mma!kuna blessing your pussy before a big match. (based on this ask!)
CW: nsfw
Art: @/sxt4n
a/n: yo guys i wrote this while drunk in some rando's bathtub so if this is bootycheeks im soz✌️im too tipsy to edit ts. #much luv tho <3 and ty for waiting patiently
The locker room was a bit dim, the overhead fluorescent lights turned down to a low, quiet hum that cast long shadows across the concrete floor. It was the championship finals—the culmination of months of blood, sweat and tears paired with relentless training—and the distant, muffled roar of twenty thousand fans vibrating through the walls was a constant reminder of the stakes.
But inside the private room, the world was completely still.
When the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise, Sukuna was sitting alone on the low bench. His fight shorts hung low at his hips, exposing the sharp v-line of his torso, and his broad chest was already slick with a sheen of pre-fight sweat. In the dim atmosphere, the black tattoos covering his wide shoulders and ribs flexed with every deep, slow exhale he took. The fighter looked up, dark eyes locking onto yours, his messy salmon-pink hair damp against his forehead.
You didn't say a word, just stepped up to him with a fresh roll of thick white cotton gauze in your hands. The moment you slotted yourself perfectly between his thick thighs and sank into his lap, those muscular arms instantly wrapped around you. One heavy forearm locked across the small of your back—trapping you securely against him. The scent of your perfume immediately cut through the sharp, medicinal tang of liniment and deodorant filling the space between you.
The silence held fast—broken only by the slight rustle of fabric. You grabbed Sukuna’s big, scarred hand and grazed his blistered knuckles. Slowly, you pulled the white cloth taut over his calloused skin, smoothing it down.
As you focused on the final turns, Sukuna leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The heat radiating off his body was scorching, his damp, pink hair scratching lightly against your skin as he pressed a slow row of warm kisses against your throat. “You done?” he asked quietly against your skin, flexing his fingers beneath the fresh gauze—testing your work.
You giggled as the short strands and the warmth of his lips tickled your skin. You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, your thumb lingering over the finished wrap. “Keep your hands steady,” you whispered, smoothing out the white gauze.
“Are you nervous?” you asked softly.
Of course he had to be, you thought to yourself. This was the championship finals. The highest stakes imaginable. In less than ten minutes, he was either walking out there to claim the gold belt, or he was coming back to this exact room with a bruised face, a busted lip, and the bitter taste of defeat. The pressure was enough to crush anyone.
“Nah” he said softly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I've already won.”
A quiet laugh escaped your lips at his playful confidence, and before you could tease him back, Sukuna’s wrapped hand slid down the back of your thigh—his fingers sliding right beneath the hem of your denim skirt. With a strong grip, he lifted your leg up and guided your thighs wide, moving you so you were fully straddling his lap.
The movement instantly bunched the stiff denim fabric all the way up to your hips. Your bare thighs and the plump, soft flesh of your ass were left entirely exposed on his lap, with your simple grey cotton panties serving as the only barrier between you.
Sukuna didn't give you a chance to speak, his other hand instantly coming up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled you down into a deep kiss. His mouth parted yours easily, his tongue sliding inside with a hungry rhythm that tasted faintly of copper and
mint. A soft gasp escaped your throat—completely swallowed by his lips as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling yourself against his chest.
Unable to help yourself, you shifted your weight—your hips instinctively rolling forward. You ground your clothed cunt right against him, the grey cotton of your underwear rubbing directly over his aching cock.
Sukuna let out a low and rough breath into the kiss, his hand sliding up from your thigh to slide over your bare, exposed cheek. His rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing it with a grip that anchored your hips right against his. His other hand trailed down to grip your hip—rocking you back and forth.
The fabric of his fight shorts offered no cushioning, letting you feel every rigid inch of his heavy length straining hard beneath the flat velcro waistband. He continued to rock you, pulling you harder against him with every roll of your hips. You whined into his mouth, your hips rolling desperately against his hard bulge until your core throbbed.
Sukuna broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his lips dragging across your cheek to your ear, his chest heaving against yours. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, a rough breathless laugh catching in his throat as your desperate grinds threatened to break his control before the bell even rang.
He stood up with you trapped against his chest. And in two heavy strides, Sukuna laid you onto the high training table. The short denim skirt rode all the way up your hips, with the cold wood biting into the bare skin of your lower back and thighs.
His hands gripped your knees and guided them back, flexing your legs wide as he stepped deeply in between them. Sukuna pressed his hard bulge against your clothed cunt—letting you feel exactly how thick and hard he was for you under his gear.
Slowly, his large hand slid down between your thighs, his palm flattening over the front of your plain, soft grey panties. He didn't pull them down yet. Instead, his fingers began to trace the shape of your damp folds through the fabric, outlining the plump, aching shape. Pressing his thumb hard against your clit, circling it—making a pathetic whimper catch in your throat.
As his fingers worked over the damp grey fabric, Sukuna leaned his weight forward, slowly driving his thick bulge straight into your clothed heat. The sleek material of his fight shorts slid against your soaked panties, pinning you firmly to the wood with every slow hitch of his pelvis.
Your excitement had completely soaked through the material—the grey cotton was almost translucent, darkening from the moisture and sticking directly to your sensitive, swollen folds. Every time he shifted his weight or rubbed his thumb over you, the damp cloth dragged intimately against your clit.
Sukuna leaned down, his eyes locked on yours, watching your expression fracture. “Look at you” he said with a smirk, as his thumb took one more slow dragging stroke along the damp seam before he finally hooked two fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He slid the wet grey fabric down your legs with an impatient pull—letting it drop to the floor.
Sukuna dropped to his knees, broad shoulders wedging your thighs even wider, pinning your legs back until you were completely spread out for him.
“So fucking wet already. The only lucky charm I need.” He let his breath coat your swollen, slick
folds, watching the way you shuddered just from the heat of him. Your core was oozing onto the wooden table, the wet skin glistening under the lights, and a low satisfied breath escaped his chest at the sight. And when his tongue finally made contact, he slid it from the very bottom of your opening all the way up through your slick folds to your throbbing clit in one slow, deep lick.
A sharp gasp caught your throat, your teeth immediately sinking into your lower lip as your hips twitched against the hard table.
“Stay still for me,” he mumbled against your heat, lips flattening against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud entirely into his mouth. Sukuna rested his heavy forearms over your thighs as he lapped your throbbing cunt heavily, his tongue working in aggressive upward swipes through your slick folds, that mirrored the pace of a hard, dirty fuck.
He dragged it out—taking his time to torment you, his tongue flattening to lap broad strokes from your opening to your clit, before narrowing to swirl his wet tongue on the sensitive bud until you were whining, the sound echoing in the concrete room.
Suddenly, rushed footsteps and raised voices echoed right outside the door—the loud, frantic calls of his manager and officials checking the halls. Panicking at the noise, you instantly clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling a loud cry as his tongue swirled over your clit.
Sukuna paused for a second, looking up from between your thighs with amused eyes. He gripped your wrist, firmly pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it down against the table.
“Tryna be quiet?” he murmured.
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the voices faded down the corridor. “They’ve heard you before.”
“Sukuna, please, someone's gonna—” you gasped out, your words dissolving into a broken moan as his tongue slammed right back into your wetness.
“Mm…yeah, you like that?” Sukuna hummed with a grin.
Your eyes fluttered back, vision blurring as you looked at the dim ceiling “M-mhm…I do…please…” Fingers instantly tangling into his damp salmon-pink hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you tried to pull him even closer against you. “F-fuck…” you gasped out as your back slightly arched off the wood, your lip digging into your teeth again trying and failing to stifle the ragged whimpers escaping you.
The booming chant of the crowd outside blended with the wet, squelching sounds of his mouth devouring you. You could smell his deodorant, his sweat sticking onto your skin, feel the scratch of his short pink hair against your lower stomach, and the burning touch of his wrapped fingers spreading your wet folds wide so he could dig his tongue even deeper into your pulsing core.
Then, he pushed two thick, gauze-wrapped fingers inside of your cunt.
The rough texture of the tape dragged against your sensitive walls—the friction so sharp it made you sob, your walls clamping tightly around the texture. Sukuna let out a low grunt, immediately taking advantage of how your tightness was sucking his fingers in. He began to pump his fingers hard and fast, the rough gauze dragging in and out of your oozing heat, perfectly hitting your g-spot with every thrust while his tongue continued to lap and suck your clit.
A ragged chain of whines and moans slipped out of your lips while your hands desperately tightened their grip on his hair. The contrast of his rough tape inside your cunt and the soaking wet heat from his mouth against your folds was driving you over the edge. You could feel yourself building, the pressure pooling heavily in your lower stomach until you were trembling from head to toe.
“Sukuna—please, I’m gonna—”
“Give it to me” he murmured against your core. “Right here. Let me taste it.”
He accelerated the pace, his fingers shoving deep and fast, your internal walls contracting violently around the tough gauze. The intense friction snapped the last of your control and your orgasm hit like a physical blow, your back arching off the cold table as your eyes fluttered shut. Your internal muscles were completely squeezing and spasming around Sukuna’s wrapped fingers.
And finally your wave of release flooded out, soaking his hands and spilling directly onto his fingers, the gauze soaking it in as you whimpered, your toes curling slightly and thighs trembling against his broad shoulders as you came hard against his knuckles.
Sukuna didn't back off—he stayed put there, drinking you down greedily, swallowing every drop of your release while his fingers continued to slowly pump inside your wet folds, wringing out every last, fading spasm of your climax, letting his knuckles coat themselves completely in your wetness. He didn't stop until your frantic breathing finally began to slow to a ragged wheeze, his tongue giving one you one final, heavy swipe over your throbbing core.
When Sukuna finally pulled away, a thick, silver string of saliva connected his lips to your wet skin. He stood up, towering over you with his face completely flushed, his lips glistening and wet with you. He used the back of his wrapped wrist to swipe the wetness from his chin—flashing a satisfied look at the mess he made out of you.
Sukuna grabbed his mouthguard off the counter, shoving it into his jaw, and adjusted the waistband of his fight shorts over his aching length.
He gave your warm inner thigh one last reassuring squeeze, smoothing the edge of your denim skirt back down over your legs.
“Shouldn't take long.”
He flashed you the faintest smirk as he rolled his muscular shoulders, prepping himself. “First round.”
࣪˖ ݁Ი𐑼 ⋆ִֶָ་𝓕.𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 ִֶָ ་༘ ࣪˖ weakness is your messy eyeliner!?
𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 ꒰ fem!reader ⋮⋮ "kajal" is used in place of eyeliner ⋮⋮ not desi reader specific but desi reader was in mind when writing this ⋮⋮ oral m. rec ⋮⋮ cum in mouth ꒱
The bedroom is still quiet as morning light breaks into your shared apartment, rays of sunshine filtering through the curtains. You stirred first, from sleep, hair spilled across the pillows and the faint scent of last night's jasmine oil still clinging to your skin.
Toji laid beside you. His massive frame taking up most of the bed. One heavy arm draped lazily over your waist. His breathing deep and even, as you blinked slowly. The familiar weight of sleep still pressed on your lashes.
He woke moments later. Those sharp green eyes cracked open and landed on your face.
Your kajal. Lined so carefully every night before bed. Now smudged in the most sinful way. Dark rings shadowed your pretty eyes, making you look wrecked already. Sultry. Like you had spent the whole night taking him deep and desperate.
Toji's cock twitched hard under the sheets, because he was instantly rock hard at the sight of you like this, actually every single morning, it did something filthy to him. He tried to look away, but his jaw clenched tight, the longer he tried to tell himself, not again. Just one morning he hoped his cock wasn't aching and painful because of you.
And you noticed right away. How could you not? His body language gave him away every time, the slight adjusting or where he'd pull the covers up over himself in an attempt to hide his boner. You shifted closer voice coming out soft and teasing. "What's wrong, Toji? You look like you're in pain."
He let out a low grunt, eyes flickering back to yours. The smudged kajal around them made his thoughts spiral. "Fuck. You look too good like that, Dollface. With your eyes all dark and messy. Makes me think about.. how y'er pretty mouth was taking all of me last night, stuffed ya full didn't I?
He lifted his hand mid sentence, reaching towards your face cupping your cheek as his thumb swiped right under your eye.. right where the kajal was the thickest. "Ruined that pretty liner even more."
Your heart fluttered. Heat pooled low in your belly. You knew exactly what he meant. His eyes always betrayed him. That hungry stare. The way his gaze dropped to your full lips next. He was imagining them stretched wide around his thick cock again.
You didn't say anything at first. Instead your hand roamed down his bare chest. Fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. Lower, until you reached the heavy tent in his sweatpants. He was leaking already, a damp spot blooming under your palm.
Toji hissed through his teeth. "Shit. Yeah. Just like that."
You freed him with eager fingers. His cock sprang out. Thick, veined. The head flushed dark and shiny with pre-cum. It bobbed heavily against his stomach. You licked your lips. The sight making your mouth water.
Leaning down, you settled between his spread thighs. He opened them wider for you. Gentle and loving were his big hand as it came to rest on the back of your head. Fingers stroking through your hair with surprising tenderness.
You wrapped your plump lips around the tip first. Tongue swirling to lap up every drop of pre-cum. Salty-warm and perfect. Toji let out a guttural groan from deep in his chest. His hips bucking up just a little.
"Fuck, Dollface. Your mouth's... always so good for me."
You took him deeper. Inch by thick inch. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked. The weight of him on your tongue felt divine. Your fingers teased along his happy trail. Petting the dark hair there. Tracing the muscles that flexed under your touch.
He guided you down slowly. "That's it. All the way, baby. Take every fucking inch f'me. I know you can."
You did. Relaxing your throat. Letting his cock slide in until your nose pressed against his pelvis. Your walls massaged him tight. Wet heat enveloping him completely. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. They spilled over. Smudging the kajal even more, black mixing with your tears, running down your cheeks.
Toji's gaze was locked on you. Hyper focused. He drank in every detail. The beauty marks around your eyes. The cute one right above your upper lip. Your hair framing your face like a halo. You looked so beautiful. So fucking ruined for him.
His thumb brushed your stretched lips. Gathering the drool that slipped out. "God, you're gorgeous. Look at you. Taking me so deep. My pretty girl."
You hummed around him. The vibration made his thighs tremble. You bobbed your head. Sucking harder. Tongue working the underside of his shaft. One hand cupped his heavy balls. Rolling them gently while your other hand stroked what your mouth couldn't reach.
Toji's fingers tightened in your hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Guiding you back and forth on his cock as his breaths came rougher now. "Yeah. Just like that. Gonna make those pretty eyes water more. Love seeing my good girl gag on my cock."
You pushed yourself further. Throat fluttering around him. Tears flowing freely. The kajal was a complete mess now. Dark smudges painting your heated skin. You looked up at him through wet lashes. Eyes glassy and devoted.
That was it. The sight broke him.
Toji came with a fevered moan. Thick ropes of cum flooding your throat. Hot, heavy and endless. You swallowed around him. Milking every drop, throat working rhythmically. Taking it all like the good girl you were.
When he finally eased out, a string of spit and cum connected your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You gasped for air. Lips shiny and wrecked.
Toji pulled you up immediately. His mouth crashed onto yours in a deep kiss. Tasting himself on your tongue. Then softer kisses followed. Across your cheek. Along your jaw. Gentle presses just under your eyes where the kajal was darkest. Kissing away the messy streaks with surprising care.
"You wrecked me, princess," he murmured against your skin. His hand stayed at the back of your head. Massaging your scalp in slow circles. "So fucking pretty in the morning. Thank you. My beautiful girl. My sultry little thing."
You smiled. Curling into his broad chest. His arms wrapped around you tight. The sun climbed higher outside. But neither of you moved. Just tangled together. His cock softening against your thigh. Your smudged kajal marking him now too.
Toji pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Gonna need you to line those eyes every night. Just so I can wake up to this. Every damn morning."
His voice was low, a little possessive, but full of that lazy affection only you ever got to see. You nestled closer. Already thinking about tonight. How you'd line them even thicker. Just for him.
︵ ೀ mdni. you are unsure if you like girls but shoko is very sure she wants to help you find out
being unsure of your own sexuality is one thing. having your crush be the one to find out is a whole different disaster.
it happens on a completely normal saturday, the kind where you do nothing but lie on your dorm bed with a stack of magazines you definitely pay too much for at the convenience store, flipping through quizzes about which sorcerer technique matches your personality and whether your ideal partner is “spontaneous” or “steady.”
except you land, somehow, on a quiz titled “are you sure you’re straight?” and instead of laughing it off and turning the page like a normal person, you actually grab a pen and start answering it.
which is exactly the position shoko finds you in when she lets herself into your room without knocking, because she never knocks, because four years of friendship has apparently erased her understanding of personal space entirely.
“whatcha doing,” she says, already flopping down on the end of your bed before you can even sit up properly, and you very nearly launch the magazine across the room in a full panic, except that would make it obvious something is wrong, so instead you just sort of freeze with it pressed flat against your chest.
“nothing,” you say, in the exact tone of someone who is absolutely doing something.
shoko raises an eyebrow, reaches over and plucks the magazine right out of your hands before you can stop her, and you make a strangled noise of protest that does nothing to help your case.
she looks at the page. then she looks at you. then she looks back at the page, and you watch, in real time, the exact moment she clocks the title. “are you sure you’re straight,” she reads aloud. “question one: who do you notice first: men or women?”
“it was just there,” you say, which is possibly the weakest defense in the history of defenses, “i was bored, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s a magazine quiz, they’re not scientifically—”
“question two,” shoko interrupts without missing a beat. “‘have you ever wanted to kiss a girl?’”
“shoko,” you groan. “stop.”
“did you answer yes?”
“shoko.”
“i’m just reading the magazine.”
“you’re reading it out loud.”
“correctly.”
you let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a dying gasp, already reaching for the pillow beside you.
“question three,” shoko continues, entirely unbothered. “‘when you picture your ideal romantic partner, whose face comes to mind first.’ you wrote a name here and then scratched it out so hard you ripped the paper.”
“i did not—”
“you did. there’s a hole in the page. i can see through it to the ad for skin care products behind it.”
you drop your face into the pillow, and shoko, mercifully, stops reading it out loud, though she absolutely does not stop smiling.
“so,” she says instead, setting the magazine aside and leaning back on her hands. “you’re sitting here doing a teen magazine questionnaire to find out your sexuality made by people who also think ‘what’s your dream vacation’ can tell you your soulmate’s zodiac sign.”
“when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”
“it is stupid,” she says, nudging your knee with her foot. “those quizzes can’t actually tell you anything real. there’s an easier way to figure it out anyway.”
“…what easier way.”
“we could just kiss,” she says, like she is suggesting you split an order of fries. “way more reliable than a magazine quiz.”
“you’re joking.”
“i’m not, actually.”
“that’s—that’s not how any of this works,” you say, except your voice comes out about an octave higher than you mean it to, which does nothing for your credibility.
“sure it does,” shoko says, shifting closer on the bed. “you’ve got a hypothesis. i’m offering you a way to test it. this is basic scientific method.”
“i don’t think this is what they mean by scientific method.”
“details,” she says, and reaches out to tug the magazine fully out of your lap and toss it somewhere off to the side of the bed.
you open your mouth to argue further, to point out at least three more reasons this is a terrible idea, except none of the words come out in time, because shoko has already leaned in, slow enough that you have every opportunity to pull back and somehow don’t, and then her mouth is on yours and every single argument you’ve been building evaporates instantly.
it is, to be completely honest, a mess. you aren’t sure what to do with your hands, so they end up hovering awkwardly in the air for a second before landing stiffly on the blanket like you’ve forgotten they are attached to your body. you tilt your head the wrong way first, bump her nose slightly, make a small mortified noise against her mouth that you are going to be thinking about at 3 a.m. for the rest of your life, and generally kiss like someone who has absolutely no idea what she is doing, which, in fairness, you don’t.
shoko, on the other hand, kisses like someone who has already known the outcome of this experiment before it starts. unhurried, steady, one hand coming up to rest against your jaw like she is simply confirming something she has already suspected for a while, completely unbothered by your nose-bump or the strangled sound you made or the fact that you froze for a full second like your brain briefly rebooted.
when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at you, you are fairly certain your whole face has turned some shade of red that doesn’t have an official name yet.
“okay,” she says. “data point collected.”
“i—” you start, and then stop, because you genuinely have no idea how to finish that sentence. you don’t know what you expect. panic, maybe. confusion. some kind of internal debate. instead there is just a loud, obvious, undeniable certainty sitting in your chest.
“you okay?” shoko asks, and there is something almost gentle under the smugness, like she actually wants to know.
“yeah.”
“did you like it?”
“yeah,” you say again.
“you wanna do that again?”
“yeah,” you say, for the third time, and immediately feel like an idiot for it, because apparently your entire vocabulary has been reduced to one single word.
shoko is kissing you again before you’ve even fully caught your breath from the first time, and this one feels different immediately, slower to start but somehow more sure of itself, like you’ve both quietly agreed there is no reason to pretend to be casual about it anymore.
you don’t freeze this time. your hands find her waist instead of hovering uselessly in the air, and when she tilts her head you tilt with her instead of against her, some instinct finally catching up to what your brain has been too scrambled to manage the first round.
shoko hums low in her throat, pleased, and shifts even closer, one hand sliding from your jaw into your hair, and when she deepens the kiss just slightly, testing, her tongue brushing yours in a way that is clearly meant to be a tease rather than anything more, you make a small sound against her mouth that has absolutely nothing awkward about it this time.
“see,” she murmurs, pulling back just far enough to talk, lips still barely brushing yours, voice noticeably rougher than her usual bored drawl. “getting better already.”
“shut up,” you breathe, and pull her back in before she can say anything else insufferably smug, which, judging by the small satisfied sound she makes against your mouth, is exactly the reaction she is hoping for.
the kiss deepens almost immediately, like neither of you can pretend it’s still just an experiment anymore. shoko’s fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you as her tongue slides against yours again—less teasing this time, more insistent. you taste the faint hint of the strawberry candy and something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.
a low, shaky sound escapes you, and shoko swallows it greedily, shifting until her body is half over yours on the narrow dorm bed. the magazine thumps forgotten to the floor. one of her knees presses between your legs for balance, and the casual pressure of it sends heat rushing through you so fast your head spins.
“still good?” she murmurs against your mouth, barely pulling away.
you answer by chasing her lips, hands sliding up under the hem of her loose shirt to press against the warm skin of her waist. she’s softer than you expected, and the way she shivers under your touch makes you bolder. your fingers trace the line of her spine, and shoko hums into the kiss—pleased, almost purring.
the next few minutes blur. kisses turn wetter, slower, then hungry again in waves. she nips at your bottom lip and you arch up into her without thinking. one of her hands leaves your hair to trail down your side, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your breast through your shirt. not quite there, but close enough that your breath hitches sharply.
“shoko—” you gasp when she begins to kiss down along your neck.
“hmm?”
you don’t even know what you were going to say. something about this being crazy, or too fast, or please don’t stop—none of it matters. instead you tug her back up by the collar of her blouse and kiss her harder, tongues tangling, bodies pressing closer until there’s no space left between you.
her thigh shifts higher between your legs, and the friction pulls a needy sound from your throat that would mortify you later if you had any brain cells left to feel embarrassment.
shoko pulls back just enough to look at you, lips kiss-swollen and shiny. “better than a magazine quiz?” she asks, brushing her thumb over your damp lower lip.
you laugh breathlessly, the sound dissolving into another kiss as you roll slightly, pulling her fully on top of you. her weight feels perfect, grounding and overwhelming all at once. hands roam more freely now—yours slipping further under her shirt and hers sliding down to grip your hip, encouraging the slow roll of your body against her thigh.
the room grows warmer, filled with the soft sounds of mouths meeting, quiet gasps, and the rustle of sheets. every time you think you’ve caught your breath, shoko changes the angle or the pressure and steals it all over again.
one of her hands slides up your side until her palm cups your breast through your thin shirt. she squeezes gently, thumb brushing over the peak of your nipple until it stiffens under her touch. a broken little sound escapes you and Shoko drinks it in like she’s starving for it.
“sensitive,” she murmurs and rolls your nipple between her fingers, teasing, testing, while her other hand stays at your hip.
you can’t even form words. your back arches, pressing harder into her hand, and shoko takes that as all the permission she needs. she shifts her weight, thigh sliding more firmly between your legs.
“fuck—shoko,” you manage, barely more than a breathy whimper.
she hums in response, kissing you again, her hand slipping under your shirt this time to touch bare skin. her palm is warm against your chest, fingers brushing and teasing until your head falls back against the pillow.
you feel her shift lower onto the bed, her weight settling between your legs as she pushes your shirt up and bunches the fabric above your chest. cool air hits your skin as she looks at you for a second, then leans in.
her breath ghosts over your left breast first. then her tongue slides slowly across the underside, tracing a lazy line upward. she takes her time, licking a broad stripe over your skin before circling the nipple with the tip of her tongue, unhurried. once, twice, then closes her lips and sucks gently.
you inhale sharply, one hand flying to her hair.
she hums against your skin and switches to the other breast. this time she licks around the nipple first, slow circles that get smaller and smaller until she flicks her tongue directly over the sensitive tip. then she sucks it into her mouth too, firmer than before, tongue pressing and rolling, her thigh still pressed firmly between your legs and matches the pace of her mouth.
your breathing becomes uneven each time she sucks a little harder. shoko glances up at you through her lashes and deliberately runs the flat of her tongue from the bottom of your right breast to your nipple, before catching it between her lips and tugging lightly.
“shoko…” you breathe out.
she pulls her mouth off your nipple with a wet sound and looks up at you, lips shiny. “you like that?”
you nod quickly, cheeks burning. “yeah… i do.”
she gives you a small smirk, then sits up and swings one leg over, straddling your hips. you feel her weight settle on top of you as she reaches down, grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it off. without looking, she tosses it aside.
underneath she’s wearing a simple red bra—barely there, lacy, the kind that does more to show than to hide. the color looks striking against her skin, and your eyes lock onto the way her breasts fill the thin cups.
shoko tilts her head, watching you stare. “help me out of it,” she says quietly, almost like a challenge.
you sit up slowly, the movement awkward with her still straddling your lap. your hands are trembling as you reach behind her back, fingers brushing against warm skin while you search for the hook of her bra. you fumble the first try—the clasp slips from your shaky fingers—and you mutter a quiet curse under your breath.
shoko chuckles softly and leans in closer, her breath brushing your ear. “you’re so cute,” she murmurs.
her praise makes your face heat up even more, but it also steadies you a little. on the second try you manage to unhook the bra.t straps loosen, and shoko shrugs them off her shoulders, letting the red lace fall away.
she stays right there, straddling your lap, bare from the waist up now. her skin is warm where her chest brushes against yours. she leans in and kisses you again, slower this time but deeper, her bare breasts pressing softly against you as she cups the back of your neck.
your hands move on their own, sliding up her sides and then forward to touch her. she’s soft and warm under your palms, and when your thumbs brush over her nipples she makes a quiet sound against your mouth that sends another rush of heat through you.
she rocks her hips now, grinding down against your thigh while her hands push your bunched-up shirt higher. you help her tug it all the way off, then her fingers are at the waistband of your pants, teasing the edge but not pushing further yet.
“you still okay?” she asks between kisses.
“yeah,” you breathe. “don’t stop.”
shoko smiles against your lips. she shifts her weight, lays you back down on the bed, and follows you down. her mouth finds your neck, then your chest again, while her hands explore lower, slipping under the rest of your clothes. you do the same, fingers tracing down her back, over her hips, pulling her closer until there’s nothing but heat and skin and the sound of both of you breathing hard.
the rest of your clothes come off slowly, piece by piece, between messy kisses and wandering hands. shoko is patient but relentless, touching and tasting every inch she can reach, whispering little praises whenever you moan or shiver under her. you lose track of time, lost in the feel of her weight on top of you, her mouth, her fingers, the way she presses close and moves with you.
and for once, you don’t feel unsure about anything at all.
♡ ⸝⸝ when toji fucks you good, you take his ass to red lobster ! ❤︎₊ ⊹
cw: nsfw
“hello! my name is michael, and i’ll be your server for tonight.” he gestured to the menus in front of you. “ready to order?”
you glanced up and gave him a small smile. “not quite, give us some time please.”
“no worries, take your time.” he smiled and left.
toji looked unamused. “why’d you send him away? you said i can order whatever i want.”
you rolled your eyes. “you already know what you want? we’ve been here for like two minutes.”
“i do actually, it’s the same order every time.”
he wasn’t wrong, he was pretty consistent with what he liked. especially with you.
“yeah just like that.” he groaned and you clenched around him at his words. “if you keep—fuck—squeezing me like that, i won’t last much longer pretty.”
toji had you in yet another mating press for the third time this week. you’d asked him to come over to help fix your bed frame and you somehow found yourself on the bed, caged underneath him.
with the way he was ramming into you, he might need to come over again to fix it. the bed squeaked with each thrust, headboard banging against the wall. you were bound to get a noise complaint from your neighbors, but you didn’t care. not with the way he fucked you like his life depended on it.
he rubbed your clit with his thumb, earning yet another sinful moan from you. thighs trembling, you came hard for the second time of the night, so hard you saw stars. you whined as he drove into you, not showing any signs of stopping.
“i’m not done cutie. i promised you five, remember?”
you whimpered his name and he shook his head with a grin. he snapped his hips against yours and you yelped.
“soo tight my pretty girl, you’re doing so well for me. don’t tap out now.” he teased you lightly. gripping his bicep, you tried your best not to squirm underneath him. but toji made it hard as he fucked you at a brutal pace. your slick coated his shaft and your thighs, but he didn’t seem to care. in fact, you were pretty sure it egged him on.
“my good girl is soaked for me, huh? as if i haven’t fucked you two other times this week. greedy pussy.”
you couldn’t think straight. all you could think about was the way he grinded his hips against yours, coaxing another orgasm from you.
the lethal grip you had on his bicep as you came caught toji off guard. he was used to the broken cries and the way your cunt tightened around him, but this was something different. his hips stuttered as he buried himself as deep as possible. he came with a low, guttural moan before resting his forehead against yours.
the sounds of his ragged breathing and your panting filled the roam. his thick seed was leaking out of your sore cunt. he had just enough energy left to reach in between your legs and push it back in.
“maybe five was a bit ambitious,” he murmured against your skin. “but you said three and i get to go to red lobster.”
you wanted to laugh at how upfront he was, but you couldn’t. you were spent. he nudged you with this nose and you groaned softly. “again?”
“a promise is a promise.” he grumped.
“m’kay.”
that’s how you found yourself across the table from him, skimming through the menu like you didn’t know what you were going to order. just like toji, it was the same every time.
“hi, ready to order?” michael reappeared. he clicked his pen and looked at the two of you expectantly.
toji grabbed his menu to point at what he wanted, but not before michael caught on.
“wait, have i seen you guys before?”
unhinged asf but i’ve never seen anyone do this. queen bey you will always be famous
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Gojo lounged back against the headboard like he owned the entire fucking universe, phone held steady in one hand, that signature cocky grin stretched across his face. His blue eyes sparkled with pure mischief as he watched you straddle his pillow, already flushed and needy. "Look at you, baby," he purred, voice low and teasing, "so fucking desperate you’re gonna hump my pillow like a little slut. God, you’re gorgeous like this. Keep going. Show me how bad you want it."
You rocked your hips forward, the soft fabric of his pillow pressing right against your soaked panties, the friction sending sparks up your spine. Your clit dragged over the seam with every slow grind, the damp spot growing darker as your arousal soaked through. Gojo’s camera captured every second—the way your thighs flexed, the little gasps slipping from your lips, the way your back arched when you found the perfect angle.
"Fuck, that’s it," he groaned from behind the lens, free hand palming the obvious bulge in his sweats. "Look how wet you’re getting my pillow. Such a messy girl. Keep rubbing that pretty pussy on it. Pretend it’s my cock, yeah? Imagine how thick I’d feel sliding between your folds right now."
Your movements grew more frantic, hips rolling in tight circles as you chased the pressure. The pillowcase bunched between your legs, fabric clinging to your slick folds every time you lifted and dropped back down. "Satoru… please," you whimpered, voice already cracking with need. "Touch me. I need your fingers. I need your cock so bad it hurts."
He laughed, the sound rich and cruelly amused, still recording without missing a beat. "Aww, listen to you beg. So cute. But no touching yet, pretty girl. You’re gonna keep humping that pillow until I say otherwise. Look at how your clit’s peeking out every time you grind forward—fuck, that’s hot. Keep going. Show me how you’d ride me if I let you."
You whined louder, grinding harder, the wet sounds of your pussy sliding over the pillow filling the room. Your thighs started to tremble as the pressure built, but it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. "Please, Satoru," you begged again, eyes glassy, "I’ll be so good. Just let me feel you. I want your cock stretching me open. I want you to fuck me while you record it."
Gojo’s grin widened, but he stayed exactly where he was, phone steady. "Mmm, keep talking like that and maybe I’ll let you suck me off after. But right now? Keep riding my pillow like the desperate little thing you are. Imagine every ridge of my cock dragging over your clit instead of that fabric.
Bet you’re clenching around nothing right now, huh? So empty. So needy." He zoomed in slightly, capturing the way your hips stuttered when you pressed down harder, the way your slick left shiny streaks across the pillowcase. "Goddamn, you look so fucking hot like this. My perfect little pillow slut."
Your breathing turned ragged, moans spilling freely as you chased an orgasm that kept slipping just out of reach. Every roll of your hips made the pillow slide against your swollen clit, the friction maddening but never quite enough to push you over.
"Satoru, please," you sobbed, "I can’t—I need you. Need your hands. Need your cock inside me. Please touch me, I’m begging."
He hummed thoughtfully, still recording every desperate grind, every twitch of your thighs, every broken plea. "Not yet, baby. Keep going. You’re doing so good for me. Look at those pretty tits bouncing while you fuck my pillow. Imagine it’s me underneath you, letting you bounce on my cock instead. Would you cum all over me like you’re about to cum all over this pillow? Yeah, I bet you would." His voice stayed light, teasing, even as his own cock strained visibly against his pants. "Don’t stop. I want to watch this later and jerk off to how fucking wrecked you look right now."
You kept moving, hips rolling in messy, frantic circles, the pillow completely soaked beneath you. Your clit throbbed with every drag, your walls fluttering around nothing, the denial making everything sharper, hotter, more desperate.
Gojo’s praise washed over you in waves—"That’s my girl," "Look at you go," "So fucking pretty when you’re this needy"—but his hands stayed firmly on the phone, refusing to give you what you craved most. You were left grinding, begging, and dripping, completely at his mercy while he captured every second of your desperate, beautiful struggle.
aizawa having a wet dream about reader but its pre relationship...🙈🙈🙈
Aizawa having a wet dream about you
Nsfw
Aizawa who wakes up feeling like a teenager all over again. The gross sticky feeling in his boxers, the layer of sweat coating his body, the disturbing thoughts still swarming his head, he swore he was done with it all. He feels so much shame for it. Yet at the same time? He enjoyed it. Though he won’t acknowledge that last part. Because you’re his colleague, he shouldn’t be having a wet dream about you at the ripe age of 30. He’s too damn old for this.
Aizawa who’s self control can only do so much. He just can’t stop the thoughts from flooding his mind. He can’t shake the image of you on your knees, staring up at him with glossy eyes, his hands on the side of your head, his hips thrusting. He can’t stop thinking about his dick sliding in and out of your mouth while your hand worked the base. How every time you pulled back his dick was covered in your spit. He can’t help the physical full body shiver he does in response to it. Can’t even hide the fact his dick is still rock hard, as if he didn’t blow his load in his boxers earlier.
Aizawa who tries to go about his morning as usual. Tries to rub one out in the shower, but no matter what he does he just can’t get it to go down. So he settles for tucking it into his waist band. Hoping that ignoring it enough will cause it to go away. But it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. He’s almost late to work, all because his morning routine had been thrown off.
Aizawa who finally makes it to class, with enough time to get himself set up. But luck just isn’t on his side today. The second he steps back out into the hall he bumps into you, and the books in your hands fall straight to the ground. He’s startled at the sight of you, he hadn’t thought about you since he was in the shower. But now here you are. In front of him. Kneeling on the ground. If his dick had started to go down before it definitely wasn’t now. In fact it was harder than it’d been all morning, something he hadn’t even thought was possible. He’s too stunned by his body’s reaction to even move. So now he just looks like an asshole who won’t help you pick up the books you’d dropped. Great.
Aizawa who stutters out an apology before quickly turning back into the room and shutting the door. STUTTERS. At his grown age. He feels sick. And not because he’s disgusted with you of course, no it’s because he’s disgusted by himself. Disgusted by how much he enjoyed it. How he wished the dream wasn’t just a dream. Wished he could find a way to have you on your knees for him.
Aizawa who locks himself in his classroom during the lunch break. Doesn’t leave his room no matter how many people come looking for him. He doesn’t even open the door when you come knocking. He’s dedicated to hiding himself away. He doesn’t think he can face anyone without feeling immense shame flooding his body. Teaching was already hard enough.
Aizawa who stays late. Mostly to avoid you. Well avoid everyone really. He’s been here, like this for literal hours. No matter what he does his thoughts just keep going back to it. Every time he thinks he’s safe your face flashes through his mind. The whines, the moans you were letting out against his dick, the adorable face you’d made when he moved one of his hands from the side of your head to under your chin, tilting your head up to face him. He couldn’t stand it. But again, luck was not on his side today. He thought he was the only person left in the building, he thought it was safe to finally pack his things and leave. But no, there you were. Standing in the doorway of his classroom. The sweetest look on your face, like you’d been concerned for his health. And you had been.
Aizawa who just needs to get home and deal with it himself. But he can’t not when you’re standing in front of him and he’s about to lose his composure. “Shota are you alright?” God, your voice sounds good saying his name. “I’m fine. You should head out.” “Are you sure?” He just nods. He watches as your eyes look him up and down, briefly pausing to stare down where he’s got a very prominent bulge. But he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed anymore. “Are you sure?” you repeat. All he can do is sigh. “I’m fine. Nothing I can’t fix myself.” “If you say so.” He hears the playfulness in your voice, like you know exactly what's been going through his mind all day. He watches as you turn and leave, then hears your voice as you walk through the hall. “Later Sho! I’ll see you tomorrow!!” He swears you’re going to be the death of him.
pixelskylines
izzy806
baratheonpilled
origamiaround
germansingergirl
2087
