Your hand curls around what should have been Sukuna's arm but instead flexes against air, eyes still closed, you pat around the bed feeling absolutely no one.
The other side of the bed is cold.
Not empty-cold, not abandoned-cold. Just cold enough to tell you he’s been gone for a while.
For a moment you consider rolling over and going back to sleep.
Then you glance at the monitor.
The nursery light is on.
A small square of blue glow and a large shadow by the crib.
You push yourself out of bed.
The hardwood floor is cool beneath your feet.
Your body still aches in strange places. Recovery has been slower than you expected. Motherhood has been more beautiful and more terrifying than anyone managed to explain.
The nursery door is cracked open when you reach it.
You stop before stepping inside.
Sukuna is crouched beside the crib.
Not standing.
Not leaning.
Crouched.
As though getting any closer might somehow disturb the tiny sleeping boy in front of him.
The nightlight paints the room with deep hazy blue little white stars speckling the ceiling.
Your son’s fists are curled near his face. His chest rises and falls in tiny, steady breaths.
And Sukuna is staring at him.
Not with pride.
Not even with wonder.
With fear.
Real fear.
The kind you’ve almost never seen on him.
You don’t announce yourself right away, you just stay in the doorway watching with the kind of wonder people usually reserve for seeing an endangered species.
But the sight in front of you almost feels the same.
His forearms rest on his knees.
His head is slightly bowed.
For a long moment he says nothing.
Then quietly,
“You’re so small.”
His voice sounds rough.
Unused.
Like he hasn’t spoken in hours.
The baby sighs in his sleep.
Sukuna’s gaze follows every movement.
Every breath.
Every twitch.
As if he’s making sure he’s still there.
“I keep waiting for it.”
You frown.
Something twists in your chest.
“Waiting for what?”
The word leaves before you mean to speak.
His shoulders tense.
Not because he’s startled.
Because he’s been caught.
For a second he doesn’t look at you.
Doesn’t move.
Then he exhales.
“The other shoe.”
You step into the room.
Slowly.
The floor creaks beneath your feet.
“He looks like me.”
The confession is quiet.
You glance toward the crib.
Your son has his eyes.
The same sharp brows though faint.
The same shape to his mouth.
You know exactly what Sukuna sees when he looks at him.
Not a baby.
A reflection.
“I know.”
He laughs once.
There’s no humor in it.
“That’s the problem.”
The room falls silent.
You watch his jaw tighten.
Watch him stare at the sleeping child.
Watch a man who has never been afraid of much suddenly look terrified of something he can’t fight.
“What if he gets the worst of me?”
The question hangs there heavy and wrong.
“I know what I was like.”
His eyes never leave the crib.
“What I am.”
You hate hearing him talk like that.
Not because it’s untrue.
Not because it’s true.
Because you know exactly how long he’s carried it.
The list of things he regrets.
The parts of himself he’s spent years trying to outrun.
“What if he’s angry like me?”
His voice is barely above a whisper now.
“What if he’s cruel?”
“What if I teach him something wrong without realizing it?”
Your throat tightens.
“What if one day he looks at someone the way I used to look at people?”
“What if he becomes the kind of man I wouldn’t have wanted around you?”
For a moment neither of you speak like maybe he’s out of what if’s.
The nursery hums softly around you.
The monitor light blinks.
Outside, the world keeps moving slowly starting to wake up.
But inside, everything narrows to the space between your husband and your sleeping son.
You move closer.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to smell the soap on his skin.
Then you squat down with him and rest your chin on his shoulder.
His body goes still.
Not because he doesn’t expect affection.
Because he doesn’t expect comfort.
Not when he’s talking about things he’d rather hide.
You look into the crib with him.
At your son.
At the tiny human who has no idea how fiercely he’s already loved.
“No.”
Sukuna doesn’t answer, but you feel him listening in the way his body slows his harsh breaths.
“No, he’s probably going to get the worst parts of both of us.”
That earns the smallest snort.
“He’s going to inherit my stubbornness,”
“My tendency to make terrible decisions,”
“Your inability to ask for help.”
His shoulder shifts slightly beneath your chin.
“And our combined talent for being difficult.”
That one almost makes him smile.
Almost.
The tension in the room eases by a fraction.
Just enough.
You slide your hand over his shoulder.
Lace your fingers together across his chest.
“But he’s also going to get the best parts.”
Sukuna is quiet.
“I don’t know if there are any.”
You squeeze his hand.
Hard.
“There are.”
His eyes close briefly.
You keep talking before he can argue.
“He’s going to be brave.”
You glance at the crib.
“He’s going to be loyal.”
Your voice softens.
“He’s going to love hard.”
And then, because it’s the thing Sukuna never sees when he looks at himself—
“He’s going to be protective.”
You feel him swallow.
“He’ll get that from you.”
For a long moment he says nothing.
The baby shifts in his sleep.
Makes a tiny noise.
Immediately Sukuna’s attention snaps back to him, instant, instinctive, protective over something as meaningless as a sound.
You watch it happen.
Watch the concern appear before he even realizes it.
And something inside you aches.
“There.”
You nod toward the crib.
Toward your son.
Toward the man crouched beside him.
“That’s what he’ll learn.”
Sukuna’s eyes stay fixed on the baby.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
You rest your chin against the top of his head.
“But I know you.”
Silence.
Then a whisper so quiet you almost miss it,
“I really don’t want to fail him.”
Your eyes sting.
Because for all his fear.
For all his flaws.
For all the ghosts he keeps expecting to find in himself—
Bad fathers don’t sit awake in the middle of the night worrying about becoming bad fathers.
Bad fathers don’t crouch beside cribs.
Bad fathers don’t spend hours staring at their sleeping sons, terrified of passing on their mistakes.
it’s your anniversary, and you’re going out. the only problem is that Sukuna doesn’t really… like the way you’re dressed?
not fluff, but not angst either (i think). let's call it... married stupidity.
Sukuna’s waiting in the living room by the dining table, holding a glass of water. He’s already dressed in a black button-up that’s straining over his broad chest and arms, reminding you that he knows exactly what he’s doing wearing it, especially with the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to show off the wristbands. His suit pants are tailored perfectly, and his pink hair is pushed back. He looks annoyingly composed, which makes you melt before you even take a step into the room.
You step out of the bedroom, wearing a dress you bought exactly for this occasion. You’d tried it on in the store and instantly knew that it was the one that would make his eyes drag over you like he was starving. It’s a black V-neck with a long slit down the side that bares your leg with every step, and it fits really tight, hugging your waist and curves beautifully.
You pause in the doorway, expecting his eyes to darken and for him to cross the room and pull you close, rasping something dirty into your ear. But Sukuna… just glances at you quickly and looks down at his watch, taking another unbothered sip of water.
Completely thrown off, you blink a few times, clear your throat, and force a light tone because you’re sure he just missed it somehow. You turn slightly, letting the silk catch the light.
“…So?” You ask, fishing for that slow, lazy once-over that always makes your knees weak and your mouth dry. “What do you think?”
He shrugs, and it immediately sets something off in your chest. “It’s fine.”
The word hits you like a cold splash of water. It’s so dismissive and so wrong; it doesn’t even belong in his mouth and, honestly, it shouldn’t even be in his vocabulary when you’re looking like… that. The smile vanishes before you can stop it, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.
“…Fine?” you quietly repeat, desperate to find a crack in that blank expression, a lie, the slightest tell, anything.
“Yeah,” he says flatly, not bothering to look up again. “It’s fine.”
Your stomach drops. Heat, prickling and hot, starts crawling up your neck, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of every inch of the fabric, every seam, every place the dress might be sitting wrong. This is the man who once had to excuse himself from a crowded restaurant just because your skirt rode up too high when you crossed your legs. Now he’s acting like you’re wearing a garbage bag and calling it high fashion.
“…You don’t like it?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady, refusing to let the hurt leak into your tone.
He lets out a slow breath through his nose, eyes glued to the glass in his hand. “Didn’t say that. It’s just a dress. Doesn’t really matter.”
That’s even worse. Your brain latches onto that sentence, tearing it apart, turning it over until it’s raw and you can’t think about anything else. Since when does it not matter to him? A sharp spike of panic hits your chest as you nod, maybe a little too fast, already backing toward the bedroom.
“Okay,” you mutter, your pride stinging. “I’ll… I’ll try something else.”
That word, fine, echoes in the silence as you stare at your reflection, trying to figure out what is wrong and where the man who usually can’t keep his eyes off you is.
The second dress is softer, less revealing. It’s still black, but looser at the waist and lower in the back. He’s loved this one before. You smooth it down, adjust the straps, check your makeup again, even though it’s perfect, and walk back out.
He looks up for a split second, and his eyes flick from your shoulders to your legs, then immediately away.
"This one?" you ask hopefully, keeping your voice light, turning so the material flows.
He hums. “Yeah. It’s fine too.”
“Too?”
He nods, rolling his shoulders like he’s just distracted or bored, as if you aren’t standing there looking like you’re about to ruin lives. Before he can offer another soul-crushing word, you duck back into the room. If you stay there any longer, you’re going to ask a question you don’t actually want answered, or the anger or the tears hit. And you’re not crying tonight. Not with this makeup.
Has something changed in the way he sees you?
The thought sticks in your throat like a thorn as you slip into the third dress—a navy blue halter that ties in a bow at the nape, that’s just begging to be untied. This time, you stay silent, giving him a chance to react on his own, and your heart hammers so hard you’re sure he can hear it.
Sukuna gives another indifferent shrug.
“Sure,” he says. “That works.”
Works.
Your fingers curl at your sides as you swallow hard and nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. Something is seriously wrong, and you still don't know what it is.
By the fourth dress, your movements are rushed and almost frantic. The zipper snags because your hands are shaking, and your thoughts are a messy, ugly loop you can’t seem to break.
Too much. Not enough. Too tight. Too plain. Maybe you misread the whole night. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe you’re overthinking everything. Maybe you aren’t.
This one is something you pick when you don’t want to stand out. Still beautiful, but safe. Maroon, fitted at the waist, long sleeves, high neckline, flaring into a full skirt that falls to mid-ankle. It’s elegant and classy, subtly showing off how good your body looks without screaming for attention.
“How about this one?"
He finally looks at you, leaning a shoulder against the wall, folding his arms. But it’s still that flat, distant expression, and not the one you’re yearning for.
"Doesn't matter—they’re all fine.”
Something inside you snaps. “Okay,” you murmur, barely audible. “Let’s just go then.”
This time, you don’t even glance at him as you head for the front door, because if you do, you might not be able to hold it together. Putting on your heels, you feel hollow and resigned to the idea that something has changed. Whatever this is, you’ll deal with it later. For now, surviving the night while pretending you don’t feel it is the only goal left.
Just as you reach for the handle, Sukuna moves in right behind you, so close you feel his breath. A hand lifts, hovering near your hip like a threat he’s been holding back all evening. He leans down, and while his mouth brushes your ear, his voice drops into a rough, hoarse rasp that makes your skin flush.
“Go put the first one back on,” he rasps, all that careful indifference stripped away. His chest presses against your back, and you can feel the unmistakable, hard line of him against your spine—undeniable proof that everything you’ve been spiraling over was a total lie. “That one made me want to bend you over the table and ruin you before we ever made it out the door.”
He’s been silently suffering for the past twenty minutes, with his cock straining against his suit pants, fighting not to walk over and prove exactly how far from fine he really was.
Relief is sharp and dizzying, but it’s immediately shoved aside by a surge of pure, unadulterated fury and the overwhelming need to either scream or slap that stupid smirk off his face. You spin around, gasping, already raising your hand with murder in mind.
“You absolute asshole,” you hiss, voice shaking now that you know you aren’t crazy. “I almost cried.”
His mouth curves, slow and utterly unapologetic; his eyes darken, finally drinking you in the way you both needed all along.
“I know,” he says, raising one brow as the thick length of him presses firmly into your stomach. “Consider us even, brat.”
And if the nearest object you can grab and throw at him survives the next five seconds, it’s honestly just luck.
a/n: this was his payback for the prank reader had played on him before. and i just very much need it to lay some ground work for a different drabble i'm very excited about lol
part 2 of suguru and satoru accidentally finding your sex tapes ˖᯽ ݁˖ part 1 here
mdni ❀ smut
wc 1004
a/n: yeah this is just smut lol. enjoy!
You should’ve known that when Suguru and Satoru didn’t bring up the tapes again, it was because they were plotting something.
You just didn’t think that something would be getting spitroasted by both of them on camera.
In hindsight, it really should have been more obvious to you.
When you had gone back to the garage after dinner that evening a few nights ago, you had only found two tapes, and you remembered Suguru telling you there were quite a few. You realize now that Satoru probably stole a couple. You’d have to get those back.
And then there was last night, after Suguru had fucked you into the mattress, when he’d murmured something along the lines of “wish I could see this every night.”
Even when Satoru initially posed the idea the first time at dinner, Suguru didn’t explicitly turn the idea down.
No, and thinking back on it, you didn’t catch the look they shared the first time. It was hard to forget now that you were seeing it in real time.
“This ‘s so much better than the tapes,” Satoru said between pants, drilling into you from behind. “Can’t believe you kept this to yourself.”
Suguru, who was fucking the back of your throat, scoffed at him. “She’s my fiancee.”
God, even when they were both balls deep inside you, they just had to start bickering.
“Sharing is caring,” replied Satoru, who was going to leave bruises with how hard he was gripping onto your hips. And thank goodness for that, because your legs were so shaky at this point that you fully believed they were going to give out at any second.
“Mmph,” you whined around Suguru’s cock, your way of telling them to shut the fuck up.
“Fuck,” Suguru hissed, fingers digging in your hair as he took in the feeling of the vibrations from your voice.
You had one hand fisting in the sheets of the bed and another gripping on to Suguru’s thigh for balance. With how hard they were both fucking you, you definitely needed it.
Kind of clumsily, one of Satoru’s strong hands left your hip in favor of sliding down to your stomach, pressing against where he felt his bulge inside you.
“Fuck, I’m so deep,” he groaned. “Can you see that?”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out who he was asking, and then you realized he was talking to the camera. Fuck, you forgot about it.
Your eyes drifted over to where it was set up on the dresser, but you must have accidentally turned part of your head as well, because you felt Suguru’s hand grab your jaw and move you back where he wanted.
“Eyes on me, baby,” he said, his voice lower than usual as you forced your eyes back up on him.
You matched his thrusts with bobs of your head, drool pooling down your chin.
You started to feel yourself reaching your…third? Fourth orgasm, and you realize you weren’t the only one as Satoru’s thrusts start getting sloppy.
Your legs quivered with every thrust, eyes shutting despite Suguru's quiet protest as you felt tears beginning to pool. All three of you were moaning and grunting now, just loud enough to get picked up by the camera, but not loud enough to cover up the obscene noises of their cocks thrusting into you.
“Fuck, she’s..” Satoru whined, cutting himself off with a moan when he felt you clenching around him. He brought the hand on your stomach down to your clit, pressing and rubbing the sensitive bud to help you get there.
“Come for us, baby,” Suguru told you, his thrusts getting just as sloppy and fast as Satoru’s.
With the overwhelming feeling of getting fucked from both ends, plus the added pressure on your clit, you don’t think you could have held out any longer if you wanted to.
You moaned around Suguru once again, this time much louder as you felt your orgasm rack through you in waves, white hot and burning. You felt like you were exploding, nerves on fire as both men kept fucking you through it.
They didn’t stop, not until you felt them both stutter and fill you up with their release. You felt it impossibly deep in your pussy, looking up at Suguru as you swallowed easily, your throat bobbing with the motion.
You hear your name hissed out from behind you, not breaking eye contact with Suguru as they both emptied themselves completely with a few last thrusts. Suguru finally pulled out, chest heaving as he let you catch your breath.
“You did so good, sweetheart,” he praised, and Satoru soon pulled out, too.
Suguru wiped your chin with the back of his hand. Satoru finally let go of you, and you almost collapsed without the hands holding your hips up.
“Shit, sorry,” he apologized breathlessly and watched Suguru lift you under your arms to prop you against the pillows facing the camera.
“‘S okay,” you responded, your voice scratchy.
Your fiance spread your legs so the camera could pick up just how much cum was dripping out of your hole and onto the sheets beneath you.
“You’re making a mess,” he scolded quietly with a small smile, and you were too tired to do anything but look up at him. “But that’s not really your fault, is it?”
Your gaze drifted over to Satoru who had collapsed on his back, still trying to catch his breath.
“Satoru,” Suguru calls, maneuvering behind you, having you sit between his legs as his arms held you against his chest by wrapping around your upper torso. Satoru tiredly lifted his head up. “Yeah?”
Suguru nodded towards the mess in between your legs. “Clean up your mess.”
Not needing to be told twice, Satoru pushed himself up and crawled over to kneel in between your legs. He lifted your thighs up over his shoulders and leaned down.
Suguru pressed a kiss to your jaw and leaned down to murmur,
a/n : pure smut im sorry...first time with sukuna after dating for a while / virgin reader / college sukuna. this was in my mind the entire week because i was ovulating thats it. HALP
wc : 5.5k
“A-are we really doing this?” You shyly hold onto Sukuna’s corded neck with a stubborn grip, hesitant to lower down against the bed.
Nervous, you bite your lip to calm yourself down. After all, you’re the one who invited him inside after your date, flirting too close to the sun. A few exchange of words and Sukuna was in a rush to leave, afraid he wouldn’t be able to contain himself in the confinement of your room, but then you pulled him by the hem of his shirt with wobbly knees and shaky fingers, his eyes twitch.
“If you don’t want to, you can always say no.” Sukuna hums, laying you down like a fragile flower. He runs his hands along the length of your thigh, smiling wolfishly when you shiver and close your legs.
Pulling off his shirt, Sukuna lets your hands touch on his tattoos, smugly showing off his muscles and wink nonchalantly. You giggle and he leans down on his elbows, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.
Soft giggles morph into lewd noises of embarrassed pleasure when his sniffs turn into hot licks on your neck and nibbles on your collarbone. Impatient, Sukuna’s hands trail up your ribcage and snake under your filmsy tank top that he can rip apart with ease, but he doesn’t, just to tease himself with your skin.
“So soft.” His large, rough hands finally reached their destination on your breasts. Soft, pillowy and spilling out between the gaps of his fingers, he squeezes and kneads. You cover your mouth to hold in a moan.
With a frown, he grabs your wrists away with a shake to his head, his freehand pushing her tank top and bra up above your chest.
“Nice boobs.” He says flatly, staring at your hard nipple.
“Stop, who even says it like that? So awkward.” You shiver and he laughs.
“What should I have said then? Like the guy in that historical romance book you read?” He chuckles, “What did he say again? Your bosoms are exquisite baby.” He imitates a lousy accent and you smack his chest in embarrasment.
“Still awkward!” You complain.
“I’ll show you awkward.” He says before he dives down to latch onto your right nipple, sucking and swirling his pierced tongue over it. The cold from the steel and heat from his saliva was driving you delirious and helpless, pulling his hair and whining for mercy. Now that’s awkward. You choke on your own moan.
Sukuna likes to stare. The most simple way to put it. His eyes are locked on your jaw, your nose, the flutter of your eyes everytime he swirls his tongue, biting your nipple gently and then pull it between his teeth to make you plead for release. He’s pretty sure the growing heat he’s feeling inside his body is heading down south to his leaking cock.
Releasing you nipple with a wet pop, his saliva trail follows down as he kisses down your middle to your bellybutton. Another kiss and wide lick at your womb, he goes further down, fingers pullling your shorts down your legs.
All the while, You whine and hold onto his messy pink hair. Too short to pull, just enough to yank. Noticing Sukuna heading downwards for your cunt, you close your legs with haste, cheeks red.
“Y-you don’t have to…"
“I want to. I’m better than everyone before me. I gurantee it.” He announces confidently before trying to go down again, but you yank his hair back up, frantic with embarrassment.
“N-no…I’m serious. I’ve never done this before…” You sniffle.
“What? No one ever gone down on you?” Sukuna almost sounds offended that your previous lovers did not want to indulge in the taste of you.
You nod, and he huffs.
“That’s fine. I’ll be the first and the last to enjoy this pussy-”
“I mean, technically you are my first…”
Sukuna’s head snaps up to meet your gaze. His eyes wide with surprise and a sudden flash of primal lust. He crawls back up to come face to face with you, a question hanging off the tip of his tongue.
“You…Are you a virgin?” His voice almost sounded excited and morbidly frightened, something perverted and depraved coming out of his usual persona.
“Y-yes? Ya? Was it not…obvious?” Replying him awkwardly, you fidget with the waistband of your own panties, wondering what’s running through his mind right now. Surely he had to have picked up on your inexperience within these two months you’ve been dating, right? Unless he thinks highly of you to have bagged a few guys before him…?
But Sukuna is your first everything, though you’re not his first at all. Makes you a little upset that you weren’t experiencing each other for the first time. Would it have been more clumsy? More—
Your train of thought is cut short from Sukuna suddenly patting his hand down to cup your sex through your underwear, middle and ring finger pressing onto your hole through the fabric. Your hands shoot up to grab his forearm, trembling with shock.
“Hey-!” His fingers are so cold!
“Are you- Fuck, no one made you cum before?” His expression is worrying you, yet turning you on at the same time. He looks angry, paired with the sudden roughness he’s handling your cunt with, thumb rubbing furiously over your clothed clit. You nod with a soft breathy gasp, wishing he would slow down a little, but the pleasure is building up so fast.
“I’m gonna be the first to make you cum. I’m gonna be the first. Oh fuck.” Sukuna sounds like he’s going to cum just from thinking about it. His palm rubs faster over your underwear, thumb swerving left and right over your clit. All you can do is nod and mewl, letting the cold pleasure build until it tenses you up like a jolt.
“Why didn’t you tell me I’m your first? Am I your first boyfriend too? Fuck, the kiss that day was your first too?” Sukuna asks right into your face, mocking in the way he searches for your eyes despite how hazy and zoned out you look in your high. His hand doesn’t stop, rubbing you off, smearing the wetness on your underwear on your thigh as his hand works you stupid.
You remember that day a few weeks back where Sukuna had kissed you while he was fixing his car. Squatting, you were surprised he slid out from the bottom of his car, pulling off his glove to grab your neck, pulling you down into a kiss.
At the time, you didn’t think that’s how your first kiss would go. Messy and quick in his garage while he was lying on a creeper, fixing parts of his rundown Toyota. Then you realized, he didn’t know that was your first kiss. He had the urge to kiss you after you listened intently to him talking about the inside outs of his car. Perhaps he felt overwhelmed with apprieciation and affection that he had to kiss you.
“I-it’s not like you asked!” Whining, you slap at his arm to stop him from pushing you into overstimulation.
“Yeah, but I assumed you at least tried something adventurous in the past.” He keeps rubbing until you cry out again for him, and his dick jumps and twitches in his pants. His boxers are no doubt ruined, but he doesn’t care about that right now.
“Sukuna- wait I’m goin’ to-” Your second orgasm hurls you off the bed, scratching at his forearm and crying out all pathetic. He holds his hand down on your womb so you don’t run too far off.
“My poor, sweet, girl. No one’s ever made you cum all your life…” Sukuna murmurs to no one, staring at your writhing form on your bed, chest heaving and jaw agape for oxygen.
The truth is, he’s never had a girlfriend before either. Casual flings here and there, then he turned 26. Then you came barging into his life, quite literally, splashing a whole bowl of hot miso soup all over him at the canteen on campus.
Mortified, you profusely apologized while trying to yank off his soaked jersey. He fought against your grip, knowing he had a rugby match in an hour. He’s strong, you’re stubborn, then it rips.
He ran all the way back to his dorm cussing you out under his breath and played in his smaller, tighter old jersey that was cutting into his armpits.
“That was too much!” You shove at his arm, pouting slightly even when he kisses your cheek in apology. Sukuna admits he’s a little too jolly about the prospect of making his first girlfriend feel good. It’s special to him, special to you. He spanks your clothed clit and watch you squirm a bit more for his satisfaction.
“It’s fine, sweetheart. I need to make you reaaallly wet anyways. Before we do anything.” He smirks.
“How wet is reeaaaalllly wet?”
“I mean, about a good 3 orgasms? For a virgin?” He entertains your need for some kind of statistic, leaning his head down again at your chest to mouth at your breast.
Clutching onto the thin stands of his pink hair, your thighs rub together when Sukuna once again reaches down your mound. Hooking his fingers into your unsexy cotton panties that he finds endearing for some reason, you’re fully bared to him. Pulling you by your ankles, he dangles your legs on the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t shave…” It’s pretty silly of you to not have prepared before you invited him in, but it’s happening right now and it’s too late to grab a razor to try.
“Have you ever shaved before?” He asks, genuinely curious.
“No, never.” You shake your head meekly.
“Well, if your pubic hair doesn’t hinder you, you don’t need to shave it then.” He simply says, leaning in to brush his nose against the coarse hairs on your mound. You try to pull his head up, flustered, but he doesn’t budge, resting his mouth on your cunt and nose idly on your pubic hair.
“W-why are you just resting on my…” It’s ridiculous that Sukuna is treating your pelvic area like a pillow, resting his lips there. He wryly smirks and lock eyes with you, sensing your growing impatience.
“Want me to do something?” His lips move and speak against your clit, and you stifle a sweet whine. His breath is hot, and the sudden memory of his pierced tongue on your breast was making you grow wetter. His piercing would feel so good against your clit.
“Do something please…” You plea with furrowed brows.
“I’m awful without instructions. What do you want?” He coos with a smile.
“Put your…um, put your mouth on my down there…” You beg harder.
“Sweetheart you’re 24.” Unamused, he speaks again, ignoring how his warm breath was making your poor clit twitch.
“Okay! Okay! Please lick my pussy!” You squeal into your palms, face burning behind your hands. It’s so embarrassing to say it out loud.
Sukuna wastes no time and pushes his tongue against your clit. The hot pleasure mixed in with the flickering cold from his piercing jolts you all in the right spot. Your thighs clamp down on his ears instantly, a loud mewl escaping your throat. He swipes his tongue side to side and you jolt again.
“‘M gonna push a finger in.” His eyes meet your clouded ones, pushing in his middle finger slowly into your cunt. It hurts, so you fight back a little as Sukuna holds an arm over your pelvis to keep you down.
“Shh shh. I know it hurts, it’s gonna feel good in a moment. Wait.” Hollowing his cheeks, he sucks on your throbbing clit hard, easing out the painful pressure of his finger with the pleasure. He keeps sucking on your little nub while his finger pushes deeper in, his own hips rutting against the edge of the bed, desperate to find a relief that comes in the form of a warm, wet cavern.
“A-ahh…It feels weird…your finger is really thick…” You softly moan, scratching his scalp.
“Unfortunately I have to push in at least two fingers to prep you bit more.” The tone of his voice is low and raspy, like he’s also on the edge. Feeling bad, you yank his head away from you more. Sukuna looks confused, mouth coated in your slimey wetness. It makes you blush.
“W-why don’t you touch yourself while helping me?”
“I wanna make you cum first.” He earnestly speaks, licking his lips. It’s insane how hot he looks while looking so unkempt, but a part of you is aware that it’s a masculine appeal that he possess. Not too domineering, not too subserviant, just enough to be a tease. It’s so nice to have a boyfriend that likes you. It’s so nice to have a boyfriend. It’s so nice to have Sukuna.
“I-I want you to touch yourself too!” Not sure where you get the sudden courage from, but you dish out an order to the man between your legs, and he chuckles with a cocky raise of his brow.
“Sure. Anything you say goes.”
Putting his mouth back on you, Sukuna’s eyes flutter close, freehand shoving into his pants and down into his boxers, pulling his cock out to stroke it. Your whines grow louder as he continues to suck and lap at your clit, seemingly even faster and sloppier this time due to him fucking his own fist. Growing hazy and fucked out himself, Sukuna is practically making out with your pussy while trying to get himself to cum.
“O-oh my god Suk-Sukuna I’m-” You cum violently for the third time, legs locking his neck and rubbing yourself all over his face. He takes it with no complaint, grunting and groaning into your cunt, letting his nose bridge bump your clit at every roll.
“F-fuck-” The schlick sound of him stroking himself gets louder, and suddenly he stands up, staring straight into your eyes and busts his load all over your chest.
“Eeeee! Your kids!” You blurt out with a giggle, touching the translucent semen on your chest, spreading the sticky substance between your fingers.
“That’s surely the first time I’ve heard someone react that way to semen.” Sukuna pants with a lazy smile, squeezing his dick once more, a few more dribbles oozing out. He’s still semi-erect after cumming.
“I mean it’s technically sperm. Like…millions of em.”
“Okay miss biologist, come here.” Grabbing a towel from your nightstand, he gently wipes your chest, then leaning down to kiss you chest to chest.
You like kissing. Or maybe just kissing Sukuna. His tongue is really active compared to yours, shoving and trying to fuck your throat deeper every gasp. You’ve gotten used to the way he likes to nip your bottom lip, before sticking his tongue out so you suck on his tongue like a good girl. It’s odd how nice it is to suck on his tongue, you dare say you prefer doing this than sucking his thumb. But maybe you only feel this way because Sukuna likes to hold onto you jaw everytime you kiss.
His hand is big, and warm, and, and, and…eughh. His touch is as equally comforting as it’s sensual. When he held your jaw trying to inspect the little pimples on your skin during your breakouts, he’d coo that you’re a pitiful girl and he’d help you apply cream. Is it bad to admit you like being pampered and taken cared of by a big mean man of little words? With everyone else, he’s closed off like a lonewolf, but behind closed doors, he cradles you in his embrace and says you’re his sweet girl.
You’re 24. Not much of a girl anymore, and you’re not sure you’re as sweet as he thinks of you to be. Then he casually pushes his fingers into your wet cunt again and suddenly you think you must look sweet and willing to him.
His finger goes in easily this time, curling it against a gummy spot inside you and you gasp against his lips. He drops his head down to kiss and plant a hickey on your neck, attempting to distract you from the pain of the intrusion from his second finger.
“I don-I don’t think it’ll- it’s really really tight…” Your nails dig into his shoulder, muffling your voice against his pink unruly hair. The short spikes prick at your nose and tickles you a little.
“Yeah. You’re really tight, you have to relax. Think about something that relaxes you.” He mutters against your skin, one hand kneading your breast, the other still trying to push his fingers in.
“Um um um, lofi music! Ambient lighting!” You squeal, eyes squeezed shut.
“Uh-huh.” He hums.
“Eating tiramisu!”
“Right…”
“ Playing Tomodachi Life!”
“Uh, sweetheart you don’t have to say it out loud.” He laughs against your cheek and now you feel ridiculous and childish for ruining the mood. Just when you’re about to chide him for poking fun at you, he curls his fingers. You gasp. His fingers went in while you were blabbing about your nonsense.
Looking up at him like an abandoned cat in the rain, Sukuna smiles with a sickly sweet look on his face, then he curls his fingers once more, you moan uncontrollably into his chest.
“See? We’re getting somewhere. You’ve never had anything in there, right?” He mocks you with a patronizing tone, continuing to pump and curl his fingers into this particular spot inside you. It feels so much different than just rubbing on your clit. The feeling is more pointed, sharper inside you, forcing out lewd moans out your throat. Now you think you’re reduced to a common whore when you’re drooling on his tattooed chest.
Knees buckling, Sukuna is quick to wrap his arm around you to support you, laying you back down on the pillows, his fingers scissoring inside you.
“I-I legit feel like I-Imma explode.”
“You’re slurring your words.”
“S-sthop.”
“It’s a good thing.”
He says nothing afterwards and targets all his attention on your cunt, using his fingers to mess up all your insides. He curls and your head is thrown back. He scissors and your toes are tightly curled. Had you known fingering was this pleasurable, you would have tried it yourself sooner.
Picking up the pace, Sukuna’s fingerfucks you until you’re hurled over the edge again, you’ve lost count on how many times you’ve cum tonight. The scoreboard is Sukuna at 1 and you at 4, you think. How he’s not already asking you to take his cock in your mouth is astonishing to you. So patient.
“T-that was so good…”
“Bet it was.”
“I never tried doing it myself.”
“Well, I’m not sure if your fingers could reach as deep as mine did.” He pulls out from your wet heat and you watch in a mix of horror and arousal as he sucks on his digits with the taste of you. He did just eat you out earlier, but for some reason it feels way more nastier with his fingers.
Panting harshly, you slowly come down from your high, lips dry and throat itchy. He brushes away the sweaty hair stuck on your forehead and it reminds you of that time he held up your hair when you had thrown up from food poisoning. The way he looks at you is the same.
Your hands hold up towards him, opening and closing your palm like a child begging for affection. Sukuna smiles and joins you downward into another kiss, hugging you, running his hands across your back. You return his gesture, as simple and primitive as it can be for two human beings to rub and caress each other’s backs in a hug. As open-hearted and unadvanced as it comes to be, sex is the same.
Something hard and phallic presses against your thigh, Sukuna looks at you with a knowing smile that’s a mix of anticipation and bashfulness. You never thought he could ever be someone who felt bashful about anything at all, but perhaps he’s embarrased by the eagerness of his manhood during your tender moment.
“You can put it in.” You offer, nodding with alacrity.
“Don’t say it like that,” He scratches his scalp, “You’re gonna work me up more.”
“Oh, sorry.” You giggle.
Bracing himself up on his elbows once again, Sukuna looks down at his dick and grabs it, trying to line himself properly.
“You’re on birth control, right? Or do you prefer a condom?”
You shyly look away, before answering him sheepishly.
“I’m- I’m on IUD.”
“What?” Sukuna stills with surprise and looks at you with wide eyes.
“Um,” You sniffle, “I got it when we started dating…”
The smile on Sukuna’s face twists into stupidly arrogant expression, cocking his head to one side.
“You wanted to fuck me raw that bad huh?”
“Stop!”
“Ah, didn’t know my sweet sweet sweet girl was this perverted and dirty.”
“Enough!” You slap his face playfully and he chuckles while rubbing his cheek. He complies and goes back to lining himself up, unaware his precum is dribbling all over your mound.
It’s true, you did get an IUD after discussing with your friends about wanting to have sex with Sukuna. Initially, you thought going on birth control and condoms was good enough, but then your best friend had recommended you an IUD. You were sure Sukuna was clean and he would never put you in danger, so you went ahead and got it at the clinic. The doctor even teased you about “having fun” after it’s planted into your arm.
“I just realized this is my first time seeing a real dick.” You whisper.
“Uh-huh. What do you think?” He whispers back, trying to focus.
“U-uh, it looks kind of t-thick. I’m not sure about the size. Also you tattooed your dick?” You stutter a little when the tip catches onto the hood of your clit, he smiles to himself at his accidental tease.
“Yeah I did when I was 20,” He scoffs in amusement like he admits it’s a silly thing to do, “Not sure about the size?”
“I mean I can’t tell if it’s big or… not big.” You certainly didn’t want to say ‘small’ and insult him, but Sukuna looks up at you as if you have.
“Hm, well, the penis size sometimes does not matter. Time to time it’s more of the technique.” He explains flatly.
“Why does it sound so complicated?”
“Even if a guy had a super big dick, for instance, 10 inch or so, he might not be able to have sex with his partner because it’s simply uncomfortable. Plus, a woman’s cervix varies in- Fuck, I’ll explain later, okay?” Sukuna abandons his educational speech midway out of frustration and you giggle, watching him line himself up. Then, he pushes in.
“S-suku…na.” You whine, feeling something foreign and squishy going inside you. His dick is kind of warm, or maybe you’re burning up inside and you’re burning him up too, because Sukuna looks as if he’s in pain and sweating.
“Y-you feel so fucking good, shit,” He pants, catching his own breath for a moment, “I don’t want to push it in too fast, so don’t squeeze me so hard.”
“I’m not squeezing you!” You let go of his shoulders.
“Not your hands, your pussy you stupid girl!” He grits.
“O-oh! Okay! R-relaxing!” You try to take deep breaths to relax, feeling an inch push further more inside you.
He shifts and adjusts himself so he’s kneeling on the bed, grabbing onto your hip to pull you against him instead of pushing himself in. He groans at the halfway point, biting his bottom lip so he doesn’t blow his load the second he fully sheathes in.
If he were to calculate, Sukuna’s been celibate for almost 2 years. Sex wasn’t really on his mind often since he was always busy with rugby and his engineering assignments, so he didn’t bother to have flings the same way he had during the first year of college. He wouldn’t say he had a low libido, but rugby definitely works him up a sweat. Then he gets super horny and jerks himself off afterwards.
A spilled miso soup and you, came tumbling into his life a year ago like a car crash, then he realizes he might be much more perverted than he had previously thought himself to be. Sukuna hates clumsy people, but he oddly found himself acquiring a mysterious source of patience to teach you how to ice skate. The glimmer in your eyes and the sheer awe you had when you held onto his arm and slid across the ice made him uncharacteristically aware of the physical contact.
Then you proceeded let go and twirl yourself around yelling “Sukuna Sukuna look what I can do!”, doing a 360 spin and posing, before stumbling on the ice like a klutz. He rubs his face to suppress the betraying happiness showing on his face, but then a glimpse of your bare nape makes him do a double take and swallow like a victorian man with a finie maiden’s ankle.
“Fuck, it’s in.” Sukuna groans with long sigh, feeling his thighs shake with adrenaline and the urge to start thrusting into you. Watching you gasping softly with your hands fisting the pillow behind you definitely doesn’t help.
“I feel so full.”
“Don’t say that.”
“No really, I-I feel so stuffed. It feels like your dick is all the way in my ribs.”
“Fuck,” Sukuna rubs his face with a shaky exhale, “Don’t say anything more unless you’re ready for me to move.”
“But I can’t,” You softly cry, “Is your dick really big because it feels like a coca cola can is nesting inside my womb.”
“What? You are so- I don’t even- Jesus,” Sukuna’s jaw clenches before he decides he has enough and it’s him to blame for dating you, “I’m going to move now.”
Sukuna slowly pulls out with an agonizing pace, before pushing back in all the way. The pressure, the tightness of it makes him groan loudly with an open jaw, then he makes the mistake to look up at your reaction and you’re covering your mouth with quick pants, looking all helpless and alarmed. Fueled by your reaction, he does it one more time, you cry out and muffle your noises again.
With a quick decisive motion, Sukuna yanks your hands away from your mouth and intertwines it with his fingers. Droplets of sweat start to form on his forehead starts to form as he starts to pick up the pace and rut into you faster. All you can do is drool and mewl and push at his abs to ground yourself, but then he presses your hands down at your stomach and you cry out at the pressure.
“A-as I was s-saying,” he pants, talking loudly over the slapping sounds of his hips against your ass, “A- a woman’s cervix varies from woman to woman. Some, fuck, some women have deeper cervix, some have shallow ones.” The tip of his cock bumps right into a sweet spot inside you, and Sukuna grins at the slick that oozes out of you more.
“In your c-case, your cervix is, shallow.” Sukuna angles himself towards that spot again and thrusts himself harder, pressing down on your stomach. You squirt a little and he laughs like a maniac.
“S-sukuna-” The tears in your eyes are starting to build from the pleasure, the friction of his thrusts with the lewd bounce of your breast is so humiliatingly pleasureable, you feel yourself about to cum again. Sukuna’s pace doesn’t falter at all, and he’s attacking that squishy spot inside you with scary good precision.
“You’re sensitive with a shallow c-cervix, it’s pretty fucking easy for you to feel good even with a smaller dick.” Noticing that you’re about to cum, Sukuna cruelly slows his pace down on purpose just to see you cry from being on the edge. Your feet kicks at him, so he lets go of your hands and places your ankles up on his shoulder.
“I-I was so close!” Your pitiful complain makes him smile, grabbing onto your thighs and leaning down more so he’s nose to nose with you. Your thigh muscles burn at the stretch, Sukuna’s grip and weight too heavy on your weaker body. He thrusts hard into you once, and savours the way you flinch and cry.
“Does it feel good?” His rhetorical question pisses you off.
“Yes! I want to cum please.” You plea harder, hoping he’ll cave in, but he slows down his pace even more. How does he have so much self control, you don’t know.
“Sorry, since it’s your first, I wanna watch you like this for a bit,” Sukuna’s hand slowly travels down your belly, and you’re feeling an arousing dread build up, “I wanna see you cum while I have you folded like this.”
With a sly smile, his thumb rests on your clit, and he starts to swipe at it vigorously. Your orgasm hits you fast and violent, back bowing and clawing at Sukuna’s nape to hold onto the last string of consciousness you have. His thumb doesn’t falter in roughly rubbing you off, prolonging your pleasure as long as he can to admire your face turning left and right, jaw slacking with drool and with shut eyes.
Sukuna thinks his head must have been fogged up with sexually depraved thoughts, because watching you so helpless and small under him activates some kind of primitive instinct in him to constantly keep you in that state of high. No warning whatsoever, he pushes your knees to your chest and plants one feet on your bed. You’re about to scream at the stretch, but he suddenly fucks into you way harder and your shrieks are silenced into moans.
You’re barely even coherent for the next 10 minutes. Sukuna is fucking into you so roughly that your head is about to bump into your headboard. He quickly places a pillow between and kisses you. The kiss is sloppier than before, gasping and grunting every few seconds with a sultry whisper of your name. You’d think Sukuna is enjoying watching your ruin.
“I’m gonna change positions-” Somehow, he uses the last ounce of his sanity to tell you, gazing at your hazy face nodding weakly.
Pulling out and flipping you over like some fish, you feel overwhelmed when Sukuna slides himself back into your cunt and press your back down with his chest. He spanks your rear once and you cry. The position feels so much deeper than the previous, your high-pitched whines entirely muffled by your pillow and Sukuna’s grunting noises in your ear.
You’re pushed to overstimulation when he snakes his hand under you and plays with your clit again while fucking you, a loud moan pollutes your ear and a hot liquid fills you up inside.
“You moan so sweetly, holy shit,” He mutters into your ear, listening to your wailing cries of pleasure. “Sounds like you’re crying.”
“Don’t be mean!” You smack him without looking up from the pillow, embarrassed by your own noises. Sukuna snorts before grabbing you up by your throat, turning your head to the side so he could kiss you.
Gently moving you, he grabs a towel from your nightstand and pulls out, staring at his cum drooping out of your pussy before wiping them away with contentment. He cheekily push back some of the cum back inside you before you kick at him again.
“I think I’m gonna pass out.” You mumble as he pulls you to cuddle, lying down beside you and immediately sniffing your hair like some dog. He squeezes your boob, you nudge your elbow at him.
“Don’t pass out yet. Go pee, else you’ll get a UTI.” Sukuna pushes your back up encouragingly, ushering you to the bathroom. He leaves an empty space in his arms to prepare for your return.
Once you return with new panties and a loose tee, he scoops you right back into his arms with a few smooches to your shoulder. He always kiss that same spot. The last time you questioned him about this, he simply said that if he does it often enough, you’ll remember the shape of his lips everywhere on your body. You told him he was being stupid and it didn’t make sense, but then you thought really hard about it because Sukuna doesn’t usually do meaningless and unnecessary things. He’s going cuckoo in the head with affection whenever he’s with you.
“That was really hot.” You admit shyly to him.
“Bet it was. Are you okay though?” He gently rubs your stomach.
“Yah,” You nod, “Don’t think I can cum for the whole week. I came so much.”
“Shame. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go again.”
“I thought men needed a refractory period before they’re hard again.” You turn to his side.
“It’s true. I’m just exceptionally horny.” He pinches your nose.
“Um…can I try sucking you off?”
His eye twitches, dick jumping at your thigh.
“If you say that again we’re not gonna sleep tonight.”
₍ᐢᐢ₎ Yuji made his baby cousin cry. His uncle is about to kill him.
Pairing: Sukuna x reader.
CW: None
⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰
"Peek-a-boo!" Yuji chimed while playing with his 8 months old cousin Yuki. She's ADORABLE. Pink hair from her papa, your eyes, chubby cheeks and the happiest baby smile ever.
Yuki giggled happily, attempting to cover her face with her blankie to hide.
That is when Yuji gently booped Yuki's nose and pretended to put it in his pocket. "I stole your nose, Yuki, it's gone." He said solemnly.
Yuki being 8 months old, did not understand at first. It took a few exaggerated moves. And when she finally did?
Her lips turned into that pre-babycry pout, eyes slowly watering as she slowly let go of her blankie.
"Ah..." She let out a warning cry as Yuji visibly panicked.
"No- Yuki, your nose is still there, I promise, I didn't steal it-" He tried to explain with all the glory of a panicked hedgehog. Yuki was full-on crying now.
"You," Yuji slowly turned towards the omnious voice from behind him. "Made my daughter cry."
Stood there Sukuna, your husband, looking like he's ready to kill because his baby is crying.
"I WAS JUST PLAYING WITH HER PLEASE DON'T KILL ME-" Yuji was babbling at this point.
Sukuna walked over and gently picked up crying Yuki, who was blindly reaching for him now. "Shh, dad's here..." He rocked her gently.
"Mmh..." Yuki let out tiny sniffles while resting her tiny head against his shoulder.
Sukuna glared at his nephew.
"If you do that again, I'll actually steal your nose, brat."
"Stop scaring Yuji! He was just playing with her!" You exclaimed, laughing at them from the kitchen.
"No one makes my baby cry." He said seriously, tucking Yuki in his chest.
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
toji finds you crying in the bathroom about your postpartum body ♡
⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ m.list
quiet sobs escape you as you stand bare in front of the bathroom mirror, observing your new body after pregnancy.
you knew pregnancy would change you — both emotionally and physically. that was a given. but you never expected to loathe yourself so much afterwards, to face the mirror and barely recognise yourself.
more quiet sobs slip out as you run your fingers over your now soft tummy, no longer flat and firm, littered with stretch marks.
your eyes trail further up, taking notice of your puffy nipples, still sore from nursing, scattered with blue and purple veins.
for the first time in your life, you hated yourself. you quickly went from quietly sobbing to full on bawling once you began to imagine what toji must think of you.
then, the bathroom door swings open.
toji catches sight of your red, puffy eyes, cheeks stained with tears, his expression immediately softening. you quickly reach for a towel, trying to hide your new body from him until he steps closer, placing two hands on your hips.
"why’s my girl cryin’, hm?" he asks, his thumbs circling your hips reassuringly. “don’t look at me, i’m disgusting," you sniffle in response, turning your face to look away from him.
almost instantly after, he moves one hand from your hip, cupping your cheek and turning you back to face him, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.
"don’t ever say that shit again, ya’ hear? toji says, his voice softer than usual, almost breaking a little from the thought of you hating yourself this much.
"m’sorry," you sob, leaning your forehead against his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears.
he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, then tilts your chin back up with two fingers so that you’re looking at him. "even more beautiful than the day i met you."
he crouches down slowly, face now level with your tummy. he holds your thighs gently as he kisses you there, then presses his lips to each stretch mark, each one a reminder of the happiness you brought into the world.
"all mine," he mutters, kissing his way up your body, reaching your breasts.
he kisses each nipple, making your breath hitch, your tears beginning to stop flowing from your eyes. “love these tits even more now," he says, gently grasping both swollen mounds, careful he doesn’t cause you any discomfort.
you’d never seen him this gentle, this patient. your hand finds his hair, fingers threading through the black strands. “just wanna be perfect for you," you sniffle.
he stands again, pulling you gently against his chest. "always perfect f’me. always will be."
you wrap your arms around toji’s waist, hugging him tightly like you’re scared to let go.
“cmon, let’s get y’into bed. atta girl," he says, encouraging your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist as he carries you to bed with ease.
a gentle reminder that no matter how much you weigh, or how much your body changes, it made no difference to him.
he lays you down onto the bed, climbing in next to you before tugging you onto his chest. “love you so much," you whisper, settling against him as he pulls the sheets over you both.
your trembling knees are smushed tightly to your chest, sukuna’s tatted hands pressing your frame deep, deep, deeeep! into the frilly comforter below you, swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“tastes like fuckin’ sugar,” he’s huffing into your cunt, the tip of his tongue slithering aimlessly around your soaked canal, mouth smacking once the pink muscle’s swabbed you completely clean.
you’ve lost track of the time sukuna’s head has been in between your legs by now. his greedy mouth forcing orgasm after orgasm out of your withering core, sweat building over the apples of your pretty cheeks.
“feelin’ real good ain’t ya?” sukuna breathes out, razor-sharp teeth nibbling on your clit only to watch you squirm, the bundle of nerves still so sensitive from your last high, spine jerking off the mattress at the febrile zap between your legs.
it’s hard to focus on the brute grumbling between your legs. your ears are ringing, head whooshing with an erratic heartbeat as blood rushes through it, your mind a big sloppy pile of sukuna colored mush, sticky body glued to the mattress.
“hey!” he’s suddenly snapping, baritone voice vibrating your belly.
sukuna’s quickly moving. with a press of his thumbs deep into your waist, your skin dimples as he uses you to host himself up to face you, the pink haired man now staring down at you instead, blown out pupils studying your fucked out expression.
if looks could kill.
“mm, what ‘kuna?” you’re quickly recovering, batting wet lashes up at his piercing crimson gaze.
he smacks his swollen lips, your slick still gleaming off them.
“ain’t listenin’ ta me you brat,” he scoffs, a large hand coming up to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth to hang wideee open, grip so tight it burns, “jus’ so fucked out that you can’t listen when i’m speaking to you?”
grabby hands cup his sculpted chest to push him off your body, shaky thighs attempting to wiggle the built man squishing you down off, yet you quickly realize it’s no use, a sound of irritation pouring from your throat.
“ridiculous,” he’s muttering, tanned face leaning down centimeters away from your gaped lips, but instead of kissing you; sukuna’s tongue gathers at his cheeks, spewing a hot glob of bubbly spit right on your open tongue, the thick liquid drifting down your throat.
the tackiness coating your tastebuds causes a high pitched whine to fall from your lips, eyes fluttering shut when his heavy cock starts to slap at the inside of your thigh, burning hot tip pressing toward your aching entrance.
“my girl,” sukuna shakes his head, quickly correcting himself, “my woman...” slipping his cock between your puffy pussy lips, his cock head squelches as it smears up and down your slit, the head hitching on the outside of your hole, then quickly halting, “…my woman’s acting like such a slut tonight, should i fuck her like one?”
you moan around nothing, head shaking on top the pillow case, “no! c-can you jus’ go slow tonight? please kuna,” mumbling, your belly tenses at the sheer size of him plaguing your senses.
you know he’s angrier than usual tonight, and your poor aching cunt is his next victim.
a silky wave of slick says otherwise, hole clenching and letting it drip out your entrance to kiss the underside of his beet-red tip, sukuna laughing once he’s feeling it. “wha’ was that? can’t hear you over how wet my pussy is.” smirking, his large hand travels downwards to the pink patch of hair on his pelvis, gripping his cock and angling himself to press inside of you.
“nothin’,” you’re muttering, nails sinking into the flesh on his chest as he begins to enter your cunt, thick veiny shaft stretching you incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt—even after all this time spent prying you open.
“o-oh, fuck!” your cunt instantly chokes his dick, walls uncontrollably convulsing as he sinks deeper and deeper, thighs burning at the dissatisfactory stretch.
his head falls to your sopping neck, sharp canines grazing your pulse point, “quit clenchin’ baby, all you’re doing is hurting yourself.”
“no i’m not! f-feels good,” you lie through clenched teeth, eager for the painful sensation between your legs to bloom into pleasure, head empty as you take what he gives ya.
“i’m sure it does brat, gotta greedy lil’ pussy, never satisfied, are ya?” he’s teasing, lifting his head up to watch the way your face contorts when he thrusts half way in, his own hips shaking as he holds onto the little resolve he has left inside of him to fuck himself all the way inside of you.
“sukuna!” screaming, your hands find his back, nails raking into the sculpted muscles to relieve the tension held deep inside your body, hole aching as he digs his way deeper.
“that’s it—right here, is it?” he’s slyly murmuring, snaking his hand between your bodies to press down to the spot just below your navel as he begins to slowly bottom out.
drool collects at the side of your mouth, the raw stretch almost primal, head shifting to scream into your pillowcase. “oh fuck—s-so big!”
“soooo biggg,” he’s mocking, giving you no time to adjust before he’s sinking out of you ‘n slamming back in, the motions of his thick cock impaling you knocking the wind right out of your poor lungs.
sukunas pounding into you like he hates you. hips feverishly smacking into you each time he stuffs you full, thick heavy balls slapping against your ass with a ‘thud’! angry cockhead smooching right up against your tough cervix.
his mouth curls into a grin when your babbles of pain slowly turn into moans of pleasure, sobbing cunt forcibly adjusting to his devilish protrusion. “needy little thing—you want it though, don’t ya?” he spits, words like venom when he places a chaste kiss to your slobbering lips, “yer fuckin’ spoiled princess.”
your trembling knees are smushed tightly to your chest, sukuna’s tatted hands pressing your frame deep, deep, deeeep! into the frilly comforter below you, swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“tastes like fuckin’ sugar,” he’s huffing into your cunt, the tip of his tongue slithering aimlessly around your soaked canal, mouth smacking once the pink muscle’s swabbed you completely clean.
you’ve lost track of the time sukuna’s head has been in between your legs by now. his greedy mouth forcing orgasm after orgasm out of your withering core, sweat building over the apples of your pretty cheeks.
“feelin’ real good ain’t ya?” sukuna breathes out, razor-sharp teeth nibbling on your clit only to watch you squirm, the bundle of nerves still so sensitive from your last high, spine jerking off the mattress at the febrile zap between your legs.
it’s hard to focus on the brute grumbling between your legs. your ears are ringing, head whooshing with an erratic heartbeat as blood rushes through it, your mind a big sloppy pile of sukuna colored mush, sticky body glued to the mattress.
“hey!” he’s suddenly snapping, baritone voice vibrating your belly.
sukuna’s quickly moving. with a press of his thumbs deep into your waist, your skin dimples as he uses you to host himself up to face you, the pink haired man now staring down at you instead, blown out pupils studying your fucked out expression.
if looks could kill.
“mm, what ‘kuna?” you’re quickly recovering, batting wet lashes up at his piercing crimson gaze.
he smacks his swollen lips, your slick still gleaming off them.
“ain’t listenin’ ta me you brat,” he scoffs, a large hand coming up to cup your jaw, forcing your mouth to hang wideee open, grip so tight it burns, “jus’ so fucked out that you can’t listen when i’m speaking to you?”
grabby hands cup his sculpted chest to push him off your body, shaky thighs attempting to wiggle the built man squishing you down off, yet you quickly realize it’s no use, a sound of irritation pouring from your throat.
“ridiculous,” he’s muttering, tanned face leaning down centimeters away from your gaped lips, but instead of kissing you; sukuna’s tongue gathers at his cheeks, spewing a hot glob of bubbly spit right on your open tongue, the thick liquid drifting down your throat.
the tackiness coating your tastebuds causes a high pitched whine to fall from your lips, eyes fluttering shut when his heavy cock starts to slap at the inside of your thigh, burning hot tip pressing toward your aching entrance.
“my girl,” sukuna shakes his head, quickly correcting himself, “my woman...” slipping his cock between your puffy pussy lips, his cock head squelches as it smears up and down your slit, the head hitching on the outside of your hole, then quickly halting, “…my woman’s acting like such a slut tonight, should i fuck her like one?”
you moan around nothing, head shaking on top the pillow case, “no! c-can you jus’ go slow tonight? please kuna,” mumbling, your belly tenses at the sheer size of him plaguing your senses.
you know he’s angrier than usual tonight, and your poor aching cunt is his next victim.
a silky wave of slick says otherwise, hole clenching and letting it drip out your entrance to kiss the underside of his beet-red tip, sukuna laughing once he’s feeling it. “wha’ was that? can’t hear you over how wet my pussy is.” smirking, his large hand travels downwards to the pink patch of hair on his pelvis, gripping his cock and angling himself to press inside of you.
“nothin’,” you’re muttering, nails sinking into the flesh on his chest as he begins to enter your cunt, thick veiny shaft stretching you incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt—even after all this time spent prying you open.
“o-oh, fuck!” your cunt instantly chokes his dick, walls uncontrollably convulsing as he sinks deeper and deeper, thighs burning at the dissatisfactory stretch.
his head falls to your sopping neck, sharp canines grazing your pulse point, “quit clenchin’ baby, all you’re doing is hurting yourself.”
“no i’m not! f-feels good,” you lie through clenched teeth, eager for the painful sensation between your legs to bloom into pleasure, head empty as you take what he gives ya.
“i’m sure it does brat, gotta greedy lil’ pussy, never satisfied, are ya?” he’s teasing, lifting his head up to watch the way your face contorts when he thrusts half way in, his own hips shaking as he holds onto the little resolve he has left inside of him to fuck himself all the way inside of you.
“sukuna!” screaming, your hands find his back, nails raking into the sculpted muscles to relieve the tension held deep inside your body, hole aching as he digs his way deeper.
“that’s it—right here, is it?” he’s slyly murmuring, snaking his hand between your bodies to press down to the spot just below your navel as he begins to slowly bottom out.
drool collects at the side of your mouth, the raw stretch almost primal, head shifting to scream into your pillowcase. “oh fuck—s-so big!”
“soooo biggg,” he’s mocking, giving you no time to adjust before he’s sinking out of you ‘n slamming back in, the motions of his thick cock impaling you knocking the wind right out of your poor lungs.
sukunas pounding into you like he hates you. hips feverishly smacking into you each time he stuffs you full, thick heavy balls slapping against your ass with a ‘thud’! angry cockhead smooching right up against your tough cervix.
his mouth curls into a grin when your babbles of pain slowly turn into moans of pleasure, sobbing cunt forcibly adjusting to his devilish protrusion. “needy little thing—you want it though, don’t ya?” he spits, words like venom when he places a chaste kiss to your slobbering lips, “yer fuckin’ spoiled princess.”
"you're looking at me while i'm naked, how am i not supposed to be?"
i mean maybe he has a point. but it's not like you're trying to be a pervert or something — your professor's assignment was clear: drawing male atonomy.
while he didn't mention a live muse, there was no harm in seeing the real thing, right? well, apparently sukuna thought can you be my naked muse was some code for let's have sex.
imagine his surprise when he arrived and there was a canvas infront of the bed. it didn't take much convicing for him to do it either way — if there was one thing the man was confident about it was his nude body.
what he probably didn't expect was that he actually had to stay in the same position for atleast an hour — atleast to have a rough sketch. the other problem? he definetly should not be hard — there's no way you're submitting a drawing of a hard man to your professor.
"sukuna this is serious — this is worth half my grade! can't you think of your grandmother or something?" you were frustated, and yet at the same time somehow flattered — it only took you looking for him to get painfully hard.
you can hear a quiet groan, right after his hand moves to adjust himself in a poor attempt to push away his boner. "trust me it's really not that easy. he was excited since you asked me to come over."
if the situation wasn't as serious as it is you would probably laugh at the pained tone of the fratking infront of you. you put your pen down, looking at the process — you were almost done, the only boddy part missing was his dick.
the drawing was beautiful — you're not sure if you're to praise or if it's the prettiness of sukuna. " i think i'm gonna hang it above my bed once it's done." it was meant to be a fleeting comment but when you hear a frustated groan coming from the bed you look up confused.
"are you serious? i was about to go flaccid before you started talking about hanging up my dick picture." you can't help the giggle escaping you at his genuinly pained voice. "what are you giggling about? this is your fault."
standing up from your chair you take off your drawing shirt — it doesn't seem like you'll come to the dirty part of drawing any time soon. "if you think undressing infront of me will help the situation i'm sorry to dissapoint." you smile, continuing to take of your pants now while looking at sukuna who doesn't think he's ever been more confused.
only when you're in your bra and panties you start to move — crawling on the bed, right between the legs of your naked muse. his eyes are set on yours, bewilderment written all over his face, but he doesn't stop you.
you part his legs, hands resting on his thighs, before moving your face down until he can feel your cold breath on his tip — his cock twitching in excitment.
“You gon' argue with me and get your pussy ate” ۫ ׅ ✧ ꒰ mdni ꒱
Did you start an argument out of nothing? Possibly.
Are you enjoying the consequences? Hell yeah.
You had been on Sukuna’s ass about buying the wrong brand of apples; now, was it a big deal? No, not at all. But that didn't stop you, arguing with your boyfriend is your favourite thing in the world. Why? Because it means he gets to go feral on you.
And his favourite punishment? Eating you out until you apologise.
You're practically folded in half on the bed, legs dangling over his shoulders and kicking feebly at his muscular back. Tufts of Sukuna’s pink hair tickle your inner thighs as his tongue lashes against your clit over and over in mean stripes.
“Are you finally finished giving me cheek, brat?” He grumbled into your cunt, sharp teeth grazing your clit, causing you to jerk and whine in his grasp. You shook your head, a pretty little pout sitting on your lips as you stared down at him between your legs.
His mouth and chin were coated in your slick and his own spit, dripping lewdly onto the sheets below. Sukuna practically growled at your response, digging his nails into the flesh of your thighs before hauling you closer to his face, “Wrong answer.”
You felt his tongue swirl around your oversensitive clit, lapping at the bud before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Obscene sounds of your wetness filled the room as he pushed two thick fingers into your cunt, curling and scirssoring them to hear the lewd squelch they made.
His dark tattoos curled around his face, ruby eyes darkening as he watched you writhe on the sheets.
“Look at you, so cute when you shut that bratty mouth of yours,” He snickered against your thigh, eyes darting between your fucked out face and the way your cunt sucked in his fingers. “S-Shut up, you're an ass — ah — hole.” He pressed a wet kiss to your clit, watching you stumble on your words while doing so.
“Is that so? Guess you don't want an asshole making you cum for the…” He pretended to ponder, fingers slowing down inside of you before he started to pull them out until just the tips remained, “Was that the fourth or the fifth, baby?” Sukuna grinned when you thrashed, hot tears welling in your eyes from the loss of contact and the ruined orgasm.
“You’re a dick, Ryo!” You sobbed, “I asked for green apples, not red.”
Sukuna huffed out a laugh, “Oh yeah? I remember you messaging me to get Akane apples, but they were out of stock, so I got Tsugaru.” Your eyes widened as your argument fell apart, “And guess what, brat? They're both red.”
Without warning, Sukuna plunged his fingers back into your sopping cunt, causing your back to arch in a perfect bow. A strangled cry left you as he leaned back down to lick a filthy stripe over your clit, tongue moving back to swirl around and tease the bundle of nerves.
“Apologise and I'll let you cum,” his voice was gruff as he groaned into your pussy. You felt anger bubble in your gut at the loss of the squabble; it was either to accept defeat and apologise, or to stand your ground and be left unsatisfied. Sukuna pinched your thigh, “I’m waiting.”
You rolled your eyes, “M’sorry,” you mumbled, voice low. He crooked his fingers, making you choke on a moan, “I can't hear you.”
You whimpered out as he moved his fingers quicker, “Fine! You win, I was being a brat. M’sorry.”
He grinned, pupils blown wide as he watched tears roll down your sweaty face, both from anger and the overwhelming pleasure of your approaching orgasm. “Atta girl,” his mouth reattached itself to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it in quick motions.
Your back arched again as you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging him closer.
You felt your orgasm wash over you while he practically moaned around your clit, his own eyes rolling back, your slick coating his mouth and dribbling down his chin.
Sukuna slowly retracted his fingers from your weeping hole, sucking them clean and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Let's give you your reward for apologising, yeah?”
blurb: john logan claims that he doesn’t do jealousy. he thinks he’s above such petty feelings. but what happens when his girlfriend gets hit on at a house party?
warnings: fem!reader, suggestive, established relationship, alcohol
note: smut pt. 2 here
“Cupcake?”
You turned around at the voice, meeting the face of a 6’2” football player you didn’t know personally but recognized from the Briar sports Instagram account.
He was staring at your headpiece; a frosting top with colorful sprinkles. You realized what he was trying to say.
“Oh, no. I’m chocolate,” you said.
He raised an amused brow, “Chocolate?”
You nodded, sipping your beer. “Chocolate.” You confirmed, then pointed across the room to where Kendall was busy making out with one of the hockey players. “She’s vanilla. We’re chocolate and vanilla swirl.”
The football player nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see,” he said before looking over at Kendall. “Though vanilla isn’t very vanilla.”
You laughed at his witty joke, both of you watching Kendall as she did a body shot off of the hockey player she was kissing two seconds ago. She was dressed in the same tube top and bubble skirt set you were wearing, complete with the knee-high boots and matching headpiece; hers a whipped white color, yours a cocoa brown.
From the other side of the room, Tucker and Logan were talking when the former spotted you chatting with the tall football player.
Tucker nudged Logan, “Yo, is that your girl?”
Logan followed his line of sight and it landed on you, leaning against the kitchen counter and speaking to the good-looking stranger with an easy smile on your lips.
Logan looked away and gulped down his beverage. “She’s a big girl.”
Logan wasn’t one of those insecure, pompous boyfriends. He didn’t do jealousy. He’s convinced jealousy was invented by a short dick man with an easily bruised ego. Logan was secure enough in his relationship with you to never have any reason to feel jealous.
You turned to the jock and gave his costume a once-over. Knitting your brows together, you racked your brain’s storage full of pop culture references and iconic fictional characters.
“Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name?” You tried.
He let out a huff of laughter, “Close. I’m Luca from the Disney-Pixar movie.”
“Ahh,” you nodded. “Practically the same.”
He flashed a charming smile, dragging a sip from his bottle. He extended his hand to you, “James.”
You shook his hand and told him your name.
“Pretty name,” he responded. “Though…” he leaned in closer, “…cupcake fits better, don’t you think?”
Ah. At that, you picked up that he was attempting to flirt with you. Forever loyal to your boyfriend, you opened your mouth to turn his advances down. But before you could, you felt an arm wrap around your waist from behind and find purchase on your hipbone. You knew who it was without even looking.
“Hey, got you a refill,” Logan said, taking the half empty can from your hands and replacing it with a new one.
“Thanks,” you said. As your hand moved to pop the can open, Logan’s deft fingers beat you to it and he cracked the tab for you.
The football player, James, eyed the two of you, biting his lip whilst reconfiguring his whole plan. “You’re both…?”
“Air signs,” Logan teasingly remarked with a straight face, casually drinking from his red solo cup. You elbowed him with a small smirk.
“No,” James shook his head. “I mean—”
“Together,” Logan told him, putting his now empty plastic cup down on the counter. His newly freed hand joined the other by holding onto your other hip and giving it a squeeze.
James nodded to himself. “Got it.” And away he went. Probably off to find his Alberto.
Logan’s eyes followed his retreating figure, not easing up until he was out of sight. Only then did he drop his hands off your body.
You turned around and looked up at your boyfriend with a wide smile. “What was that?”
“What was what?” He returned, pouring himself a new drink.
“That whole thing,” you responded.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” You repeated.
Logan shrugged. “A normal interaction, no?”
“He was flirting with me before that.”
“Oh so you’re aware.”
Your expression dropped. Oh, is that why—
“Logan.”
“Hm.”
“Logan.”
“Hm?”
You tilted his face down to look at him. “I wasn’t going to entertain it.”
“I know,” he replied.
“I was going to shut it down right before you showed up.”
“I know.”
“I want to make sure you know that.”
“And I know that.”
You squinted your eyes. This was suspiciously too easy. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
You stared at one another for a beat longer than necessary.
“You’re still upset,” you observed.
“I’m not upset,” he answered.
“So what are you feeling?” You asked.
“I don’t like how he called you cupcake,” Logan told you.
“Me neither. Not when I’m so clearly chocolate.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“Y/n.”
You sighed softly, “Okay, sorry. I thought humor would make it better.”
Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, hoping to relieve some of his tension. It worked. A little.
“It was a shitty pickup line,” you said. “Wouldn’t work on me even if I was single.”
“I hope so.”
“Oh, please, Logan. Take me out the back and shoot me if you ever see me falling for that,” you commented. He let out a small laugh. That’s progress
His hands returned to your hips and he pulled you closer. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His large hands rested just above your ass.
“What if I called you that?” Logan said lowly.
“Wanna give it a try?” You offered.
He leaned in, his lips hovering right by your ear. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. “Would you be into that, cupcake?” He whispered, ending it with a gentle nibble on your earlobe.
You shivered, feeling goosebumps crawl over your skin. “Fuck, I guess you have to take me out back with a gun, Logan.”
He pulled back with a hearty chuckle. You gave a matching smile and he held your face, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.
As he looked at you, his face turned thoughtful for a moment. You squeezed his hand reassuringly.
He leaned in again. “I didn’t like how he looked at you.”
“How’d he look at me?” You wondered.
“Like how I look at you.”
You stared up at him, biting your lip. “And how do you look at me?” You whispered.
He brought his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. “Like I want you.”
Oh screw your sexy boyfriend and his even sexier responses. And that’s exactly what you wanted to do now—if only you weren’t in the middle of Beau and Dean’s birthday bash.
You had enough of this game. You raised yourself up and pressed your lips to his. Logan was hungry; he seemed to devour your kiss, swallowing every soft sound you made. His hand strayed down to grip your ass, the other held your waist comfortably. His tongue was already begging to enter your mouth, and you obliged without hesitation.
When you pulled away several moments later, Logan chased your lips with eagerness, gently biting your bottom lip as you separated.
“Mine,” he breathed out under his breath.
You bared a dazed smile, “I only want you.” You mouthed silently.
Logan let out a soft sound of amusement, nodding more to himself than to you. Satisfied and high off your impromptu makeout session, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead before rejoining his friends, this time with a protective hand on the small of your back.
logan’s room was quiet except for the hum of the ac and the scratch of his pencil against his notebook.
you were supposed to be going over his econ notes, but somewhere between “supply and demand” and the way his thigh pressed against yours on the bed, the textbook ended up on the floor.
now?
now, you’re straddling his lap, your skirt bunched around your hips, his cock buried deep inside you. he’s still holding his pencil. still got that half-finished problem on the page. but his other hand is splayed across your waist, heavy and warm, keeping you pressed down.
“you’re so still.” he murmurs, not looking up. like it’s a compliment.
you are. that’s the whole point. cockwarming – just sitting there, full of him, feeling every pulse and twitch deep inside your cunt. no thrusting. no frantic pace. just the weight of him, the stretch of his length and the way your inner walls adjust and grip without needing to be told.
his thumb traces a slow circle on your skin. “good girl.”
your breath hitches. he keeps writing. keeps working. like you’re just a piece of furniture he’s using as weight. except you can feel his cock hardening even more inside you, can feel the way his grip tightens when you clench involuntarily.
“logannn” you whine, voice barely there.
“shh.” he finally glances up, dark eyes locking onto yours. “you said you wanted to try this. so try this.”
twenty minutes later?
your thighs are starting to ache, your clit is throbbing with that dull, denied ache, and he's just sitting there, warm and thick and utterly unbothered while you feel like you're going out of your mind.
"can we at least—" you start, grinding against him just a little.
"no." his tone is flat. "you wanted to feel full. feel full."
you let out a pathetic little groan, burying your face in his neck. "i didn't know it would take this long."
he finishes his problem set then. sets the pencil down. and in the next second both his hands are on your hips, guiding you in the smallest, laziest rock.
“you’re gonna come just from this,” he says, low and sure. “aren’t you?”
you can only nod, eyes half-closed, riding the slow burn with soft groans muffled in his neck.
and he’s right. it takes forever. builds like a tide instead of a wave. and when it finally breaks – it’s not a scream – it’s a long, shuddering sigh, your cunt milking him while he stays utterly still, letting you take what you need.
when you collapse against his chest, he kisses the top of your head.
"next time," he says, "maybe you'll last longer before you start complaining."
you think you hate him.
but you also think you're already planning the next time.
you were sprawled across logan’s bed, legs kicked up against the headboard, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk, half-heartedly pretending to study.
the conversation had drifted. like it always did with logan—from stupid shit your ex did to sex, and somehow landed on the one thing you’d never admitted to anyone.
“wait, wait, wait.” he spun around in his chair, textbook forgotten.
“you’re telling me you’ve never-”
“squirted? no.” you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your phone. “it’s fake, logan. porn shit. girls fake it for views.”
he was quiet for exactly two seconds. then his chair rolled against the floor.
“the fuck y’mean it’s fake?”
you finally glanced up. he was standing now, arms crossed, jaw tight like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline in one sentence.
“i mean…” you said slowly, “that i’ve come before. orgasms are real. but squirting? that whole gushing thing? no chance. my ex tried once, ended up practically elbow-deep, and nothing happened. so i’m pretty sure it’s a myth.”
john’s eye twitched. like proper twitched when you insult a man’s beliefs.
he walked over to the bed, grabbed your ankles, and yanked you flat before you could protest. your phone clattered onto the sheets.
“logan!” you squeak out in surprise, laughing softly.
“you’re telling me..” he said, voice low, “that some useless fuck tried to make you squirt, failed, and now you think it’s not real?”
“that’s...yeah, basically.”
he ran a hand through his hair, let out a breath, and then his gaze dropped to your hips like he was solving a fucking equation. “that’s offensive.”
“are you serious?” you snort, laughing at the look on his face.
“yeah! you’ve been walking around thinking your body can’t do something it absolutely can!” he climbed onto the bed, knees bracketing your hips, hands planted on either side of your head.
“and that i’m gonna have to be the one to prove you wrong.”
you should’ve laughed. should’ve shoved him off and called him an idiot.
instead, your thighs pressed together. “log-”
“shut up.” but he said it softly, thumb brushing your jaw. “you trust me?”
you nodded before you could think.
his mouth found yours, deep and soft, like he was tasting you for the first time. his tongue slid against yours, and his hand traveled down, down, past your stomach, fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts.
“these need to go.” he murmured against your lips.
you lifted your hips, let him peel them off along with your panties. the cool air hit you, and you shivered, suddenly hyperaware of how wet you already were.
logan looked down. let out a low whistle.
“fuck. you’re soaked. just from talkin’ about it?”
heat crawled up your neck. “shut up.”
he grinned, not fading even as he settled between your legs, broad shoulders forcing them apart. his thumb found your clit without even looking – calloused, rough, rubbing lazy circles that made your back arch.
“’m gonna show you exactly what your body can do,” he said, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “and you’re gonna feel so good you forget every single idiot who couldn’t get it right.”
“logan – i’m telling you, it’s not gonna-”
he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. no build-up. no teasing. just the sudden stretch, the curl of his knuckles against your walls. you gasped, back arching.
"feel fake?" he pumped once, twice, watching your face. "feel good?"
"..yeah."
he shoved two fingers inside you.
the words died in your throat. your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, and he curled his fingers just right, pressing up against that spongy spot that made your vision blur.
“that feel fake to you?” he pumped slowly, watching your face. “feel good?”
“..yeah” followed by a breathy sound.
“good.” he added a third finger, stretching you open. the stretch burned in the best way, and you gasped, grabbing his hair on instinct. “i got you. just breathe.”
he kept a steady rhythm – in, out, curl. his palm slapped against your clit with every stroke, wet sounds filling the room. your legs tried to close, but he pinned your thighs over his shoulders, holding you open.
“thaaat’s it. you’re so fucking tight, baby. taking my fingers so well.” he murmured softly, eyes fixated on the way your hole was moving around his fingers.
he pulled his fingers out, and before you could complain at the loss, he lowered his head. his tongue dragged through your folds, flat and wet, then his mouth closed over your clit. he sucked hard, fingers still inside you, curling against that spongy wall.
then he pulled back, dragged his tongue down, and spat directly onto your clit. you cried out, fingers twisting in his hair. he looked up at you then, chin glistening, smirk sharp.
"that got your attention."
his fingers resumed – fucking you fast now, three of them, while his mouth worked your clit in rough, sucking strokes. the pressure built like a dam about to break. your whole body trembled, legs shaking, hands fisting the sheets.
"i can't – i can't-"
"you can." his voice vibrated against your skin. "you're gonna squirt all over my hand, and i'm gonna watch you fall apart. c’mon."
he curled his fingers hard, hit that spot dead-on, and sucked your clit into his mouth at the same time.
your orgasm hit like a freight train. it gushed out of you – hot, uncontrollable, soaking his hand, your thighs, the sheets beneath. it kept coming, pulse after pulse, while you screamed into the crook of your arm. your whole body convulsed, vision white, ears ringing.
john didn't stop. he groaned against you, drinking it down, fingers still pumping you through it. when you finally collapsed, limp and trembling, he pulled back.
his palm was glistening. his chin and shirt were wet. he brought his fingers to his mouth, licked them clean, and grinned.
"still think it's fake?"
you couldn't even answer. just stared at the ceiling, chest heaving, thighs sticky and sore.
he leaned up finally, kissed your forehead, and whispered,
frustration is an understatement, but it's how satoru gojo felt when you had shyly pulled away from a kiss for the umpteenth time.
of course, satoru loved you to the moon and back! you were his beautiful girl, but damn it were you shy. it was almost like a routine between the two of you. you'd get comfortable, then would be too nervous to press your lips against his without him initiating it. and if he was being honest, it hurt.
you acted like his touch burned most of the time. satoru would offer his hand for you to hold when passing large crowds and the most you would do was hold his pinky with yours.
so, being the amazing boyfriend he was, he was going to help you.
"just keep yours eyes on me, sweets." he coo'ed, carefully slipping in his cock inch by inch. "c'mon, we agreed on working on eye contact today." he reminded.
"I know.." you whimpered, slowly opening you eyes back again, staring into his deep blue ones. satoru's eyes flickered down at your entrance, clearly struggling in welcoming in his length. "you're doing so good." he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "just keep your eyes on me."
after a few minutes, he bottomed out. his hands were holding onto your waist, bringing you closer to him. "feels big.." you gasped when he slipped all the way out before pounding back in.
"that's cuz it is big, baby." he relished in the way tears formed at the corners of your eyes, nails scraping at his biceps. "you can take it though."
"sato!" you screamed, fluttering your eyes close. and satoru? he was absolutely eating this up. for the first time, you weren't afraid to be loud with your moans. “hey you’re being louder than usual. good!” he chirped. the bastard had the audacity to smile so sweetly down at you all while he was fucking you like he hated you.
satoru moved your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper. that’s when he saw it, the bulge on your tummy. "look at that.. give me your hand." he reached it, putting it down on your stomach. "you feel me? taking me so well, fuck, you're a good girl."
you saw through your tears how proud he was. bright smile looking down at you as if you just hung the stars.
satoru has never felt more proud of himself, deciding that pda was the next big step. the pinky holding turned into holding hands wether it be at the mall or a friend hang out. but of course, he couldn't help himself when he pulled away to drag your hand onto his growing bulge.
“i don’t think this is pda..” your voice was barely a whisper as your hand made its way to wrap itself around the base of his cock which was twitching like crazy, having its own pulse.
“public display of affection.. jerking me off is in that category” he bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, being careful as to not let any sound out. the last thing he wanted was to get caught by his friends sitting across from the two of you in a restaurant. “yes fuck..” gojo grumbled under his breath feeling your hand pick up the pace.
your eyes were set on the menu in front of you, trying to force yourself to focus on anything other than the pretty sight underneath the table.
“close.. so close..” gojo gripped the edge of his seat, cock twitching violently before shooting out his orgasm. he discreetly handed a towel under the table for you, leaning in to kiss your temple. “you’ve gotten so brave, my love.”
a soft smile appeared on your lips. "thank you babe." you returned the kiss, placing it on his flushed cheek.
the intimate moment was ruined by a gagging suguru. “hey who the fuck nutted on my shoe?!”
These are personal opinions, nothing canon or confirmed.
His sweet tooth manifested in his teenage years because when he was young, his caregivers forbade sugar or anything unhealthy.
He can do really complicated card tricks and roll his tongue into a clover.
He’s hyper mobile in his shoulders and elbows.
His hair is really thick and coarse, and he’s tried to dye it several times but nothing sticks for more than a few days.
His six eyes causes him massive migraines that can only be cured with chocolate milk.
His love language is physical touch or words of affirmation, purely because most people can’t get close to him due to infinity so he turns it off for his friends. And he likes words of affirmation because he’s always told that he’s the strongest, but not that he’s brave, or he’s outgoing.
He has indents on the bridge of his nose from his glasses.
His favorite movie is perks of being a wallflower.
He prefers to be called Satoru because he hates being associated with his clan, or just the title ‘Satoru Gojo’
His ego is the size of Jupiter, but can be deflated like a balloon at one comment.
Accidentally lets misogynistic comments slip but quickly corrects himself.
He makes fun of Suguru for having long hair, claiming it’s not manly.
He thinks silk sheets are pretentious.
His fashion sense was HORRENDOUS until Shoko put him into a good style.
He stares into the mirror for hours, desperately trying to use his Six Eyes to understand why he’s so lonely, hoping and praying that they will tell him.
He’s just a lil guy
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