Happy new years, daisy dearest! (I fell asleep before i could greet any of my moots 😭😭)
That's so real Helios 😭 I always fall off the face of the Earth right when it's time to celebrate a holiday or anything...Also sleep is important!! I'd rather you be well rested than stay up to wish a happy new year to silly ol' me.
But happy happy (late) new year petal!!!!! I'm so, so glad I get to go into the new year with you! It's been so lovely getting to talk with you this last year, and your ideas have shaped some of my favorite works I got to write in 2025! I can't wait to get to keep writing your ideas and talking to you in 2026, too <3 Keep being amazing, petal, and let's have lots of fun together in 2026!!!
warning: sub!jisung, dom!reader, kinda gross jisung, established relationship, masturbation (m rec), cock/balls slapping, jisung is gross but they are so in love
=͟͟͞♡ please consider reblogging if you like my works!
“Honey, I'm home!"
Jisung is kicking off his white sneakers in front of the door. They're a bit stained with mud on the sides, and he knows he’s not allowed to step inside the house wearing those unless he wants to hear your voice reverberating through the apartment. He's still wearing his soccer gear, tiny red shorts with a white stripe down the side, cut just above the knee, and a white tank top that you're sure he wore for the training as well. It's 10 p.m., but it's still warm outside, and the white fabric sticks uncomfortably to Jisung's slim body, a few yellow sweat stains under his armpits.
His hair is still damp from the running, tied in a bun. A red hairband is pulling back his greasy locks from his forehead. He hasn't changed that in at least two weeks.
"Idiot," you chuckle in response, "how was it?"
"Uh, fine I guess" Jisung answers while kicking off his grayish, damp socks along with his shoes, "Changbin-hyung fell and ate a bunch of soil, I laughed so hard I peed my pants" he snorts.
"You all act just like children," you reply with a giggle, "I'm glad you had a good time. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner yet?"
"I ate a burger with the boys . It was huuuuge, baby. Can still feel it moving in my stomach," he replies as he finally enters in the living room delivering his signature goofy smile.
You smile as you see him patting his tummy. Jisung is very thin, almost borderline unhealthy, but a small layer of fat sits stubbornly below his belly button, and it doesn’t go away despite all of the physical exercise. Jisung says it’s okay, that he doesn't mind. But you, you love it.
"Good. You didn’t take a shower there, did you?" you ask stretching your legs on the couch and pausing the show you were watching.
"Nah, I didn't feel like it. I'll do it in a while." Jisung answers while opening the refrigerator and fishing out a can of sprite. He opens it with gnarled fingers and brings it to his lips, chugging half of it in one big gulp.
"Ew, Sungie"
Jisung widens his eyes in fake shock and leans against the peninsula of the kitchen. "Ew? To the love of your life? Your boyfriend, your future husband, the apple of your ey-"
"Enough of this," you laugh as you come closer him, leaning across the peninsula. "I could count the grease stains on your hands if I wanted to. You're dirty."
"Mean," Jisung whispers drinking the other half of the sprite and hiding a burp with one fist. "I thought I'd come home and get a better treatment than this."
You burst out laughing at his words. "Uh, did you have plans? What did you expect big boy, tell me."
Jisung chuckles again and you can see a bit of burger sauce pooled at the corner of his lips.
"Uhh, dunno. A massage, maybe? Showing your baby you love him?”
You laugh, "You want a massage? Come here, that can be arranged." You take a couple of steps back and sit on the couch, on the peninsula side, so you can stretch your legs. Jisung looks at you with a lopsided smile and brings a hand to his head, scratching behind his ear. You can see from a distance the oily strands of hair slipping through his fingers. You should find it disgusting. You really should.
You open your arms and offer him a big smile, "Come on, baby. You must be dead tired, hmm? The boys destroyed you. Come to mama, I'll give you what you need."
Jisung gulps and giggles, wobbling closer to you and letting himself fall into the space between your thighs, abandoning his back against your chest. Then he lets himself slide forward a little, pressing the nape of his neck against the softness of your breasts under the shirt you're wearing.
"Uh, uh. That feels nice already," he murmurs adjusting himself against your chest.
"Have you had some drinks?" you ask, bringing your hands to his shoulders and pinching them lightly. The fabric is damp and smells of sweat and the spray deodorant Jisung always puts on when he doesn't feel like showering.
"Just a couple of beers with Chan-hyung," Jisung sobs as soon as your fingers sink lightly into his muscles, "that man needs to get laid."
"Don't be cocky, Sungie," you reply with a grin as your hands descend to work on the muscles in his arms, "if it wasn’t for me, you'd be jerking off to one of your tacky porns as well. Be grateful I picked you up on the streets and decided you would be mine."
Your words are light, he knows you are joking. Even though, to tell the truth, Jisung was a virgin before meeting you, and the first time you had sex he was so nervous he came before he even managed to put the tip in. Adorable.
Jisung laughs and then he lets out a breathy moan when you run your fingers up between his shoulder blades, focusing on a knot. "That’s true. But now he’s the one jacking off to a shower wall. While me, I have a beautiful girlfriend who decided I was good enough to be adopted. I still am thankful for your bad taste in men."
"My taste in men is great, excuse you," you retort as your chin rests on his head, near the band that pulls back his hair. "I pulled the nastiest hottest boy around. I regret nothing."
Jisung laughs. "You literally call me your rat."
"Rats are cute," you answer back piquantly. Your fingers continue to work on the knot in Jisung's back with a little more insistence. Jisung writhes softly. "You just call me that because I'm a little gross."
You lower your head to rest a kiss on his greasy hair. There's gel residue on the strands, and it's a bit crusty.
"You know how much I love that you're a little gross. Makes me feral."
"You're a freak." Jisung laughs as your hands finish massaging his shoulder blades and descend to the front, down to his chest, to caress his sore pecs.
"Maybe," you admit. "Tell me how many beers you've had again. Just the truth this time, hmm?"
"Five. Or six. Maybe six. Ah-" Jisung gulps when you brush your thumb on his pec, grazing his nipple. "Feelin' a bit tipsy."
"I know, my love," you whisper as you continue massaging his chest with your fingers. Jisung's head is nestled perfectly between your breasts and you feel his ribcage swell and deflate quickly, like a baby bird. "You're all wriggly. You just can't sit still when you feel good, hmm?"
Jisung laughs embarrassed before letting a faint moan out when your fingers pinch his nipple again, more insistently. “Not fair though, you're t-teasing."
You nod a few times as your face descends to his ear, kissing the skin behind it, where you know that acrid, powerful smell typical of Jisung accumulates. “As if you didn't have a different kind of massage in mind from the beginning. Don't lie to mama, Sungie."
Jisung shakes his head tentatively, “I wasn’t trying to imply any of that”.
You chuckle at his words, bringing your mouth to his earlobe and nibbling at it. “Now say it again without drooling over yourself, mh?”
Jisung hiccups and goes limp against you, giving you enough space to keep nosing at his neck. A little bit of saliva is bubbling out of his parted lips, forming a shiny coat on his skin and you just wanna suck it off.
“Well, maybe. M-maybe just a little,” he grunts while the tip of your tongue brushes on the shell of his ear. “You’re mean for real.”
“Don’t call me mean when I’m about to jack you off, Sungie. That’s just ungrateful, don’t you think?” you whisper on his skin, breathing the sweet smell of his body in. Even his sweat kinda smells like beer. That’s disgusting and hot at the same time. Maybe you’re a freak after all.
“Oh. Oh. We’re… we’re doing that? Fuck, yeah. Suuuure, cool.” And then he lets out the nervous squeak he does everytime you’re about to touch him. It doesn’t matter it’s been years, he never gets used to you been enough attracted to him to give him pleasure even if he’s dirty. But, to be fair, Jisung is always kind of dirty.
You smile against his skin and your fingers find his nipple again, rolling it between your pointer and thumb over the fabric of his top. Jisung keens at that and you can feel the goosebumps forming on his arms under you.
“Wanna kiss. Give Sungie kiss first? Can you? Please?” He blubbers while your other hand is caressing just above his navel. He turns his face to look at you, and the angle is weird because he needs to force himself in this position, but his cheeks are flushed and cute, and his eyes so big you can almost see your own reflection in them.
The first kiss on his lips is just a peck, nothing else, and you can feel that Jisung tries, he tries so hard not to be affected too much this early, but as soon as you place your mouth on him and start to nibble lightly at his bottom lip, he lets out a broken whimper. He tastes like alcohol and ketchup, and his teeth are all sticky for the sprite he just chugged. You find yourself forcing his mouth open just after a few seconds just to be able to lick at them, feeling the sugar on the tip of your tongue.
“You’re so filthy, Sungie. You’re delicious.” You tease him a bit while sucking his own wet muscle into your mouth and slowly pulling it between your teeth.
Jisung lets out the quietest yet painful moan, "Ah- please, I just...", and he starts parting his thighs just a little bit, the tiniest movement showing how he is growing hard under his pants.
You look down and he is just the prettiest, all spread out for you.
“Never denied you anything,” you mutter as you scoot forward on the sofa to place a last peck on his lips. They’re a bit chapped, and a drop of blood stains your mouth.
Jisung’s head falls back on your chest, nuzzling between the comfort of your breasts, and he looks wrecked already. His eyes are teary and his vision fuzzy while his lips pucker, as if he was trying to suck on the air.
“Fuck, you’re so cute. Wish you had something on your mouth, uh?” you ask him as your left hand puts and end to the lazy massage on his lower stomach and finally cups him through his pants.
Jisung is fully hard already but, to an untrained eye, the two inches tent his erection is struggling to maintain makes him look like he’s just sporting half of a chub.
“Uh, uh - yeah, w-wanna suck please,” he manages while your hands goes a bit lower to graze his balls. “Please, mama- gimme anything.”
“Oh, Sungie, don’t beg,” you whisper kissing the tender skin of his ear one more time. Jisung’s soft sobs always make you feel lightheaded and needy, but you cannot show him. Not now. “Mama’s gonna give you fingers, mhkay?”
Jisung nods and parts his lips as a pavlovian response to your words, his tongue lolling out diligently out of his mouth. Your pointer and middle finger pinch the fat of his bottom lip and he moans softly at the teasing. When you finally ease your fingers inside of the heath of his mouth, Jisung lets out a weak cry. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” he gurgles around your digits as an indecent amount of spit oozes out and coat your palm.
When you look over his shoulder, you can see the shape of Jisung’s tiny cock angrily pointing at you, still covered by his shorts. The red fabric is somehow already wet because Jisung is always eager and leaky, and what he lacks in size he makes up in liquids.
“How many minutes today, Sungie? How much can you last for mama?” you ask, tone sticky and sweet while you thrust your fingers deeper inside his mouth and brush at the base of his tongue.
Jisung chokes on the pressure and a single tear escapes from his eyes. His cock twitches and you pat it condescendingly. “Aw, poor thing. How much? Two minutes?”
“Uh- mhhf sowy” he hiccups, mouth full of fingers and saliva, “sorry, I’m not..”
You smile and you finally wrap your free hand around his balls, squeezing it. “Don’t worry, baby. Mama gets it. Wanna come already uh?”
Your face finds its way against the crook of his neck and you lick a fat portion of skin, sucking it into your mouth. He tastes like soil, dirt and sweat. But most importantly, it tastes like Jisung. Like fried food and soda, mint cigarettes to cover the smell of unwashed teeth, ingrown hair and blemishes, acne and cum.
You bite on that sensitive spot and he sobs the most pathetic whimper out as your hand slaps his clothed cock once, twice, thrice, and your fingers go deeper and deeper, almost brushing his uvula and making him drown on his own spit.
“So-oh-sorry” he cries as his cock spasms one more time under the constriction of two layers of clothes. His knees shake and he lets out the most loud and sinful noise his voice lets him. His hips tremble with the force of his orgasm and he goes completely limp against you while spurting warm ropes of cum inside of his sweaty underwear. His eyes are glassy and full of tears while he empties himself for what it seems to be a full minute. He always cums more than he lasts anyway.
You hold him close through it as his high washes over him, arm tight around his waist, and you kiss his cheek, savoring the salt on his skin.
After a minute, Jisung turns his head in search of your reassurance, and he finds you already looking at him, your fingers falling out of his mouth to let him breathe properly.
“Well, that was a record” you chuckle at the sight of his goofy smile.
Jisung huffs and rolls his eyes at you. “I said- I said I had a few beers. That’s why.” He tries to justify himself.
You wink at him and you blow a raspberry on his nose. He always try to be the bigger man, but it never works.
“Whatever you say,” you concede. “Go change your underwear now. And take a shower.”
Jisung lazily shakes his head. “Nah. Too tired. Imma do it later.”
REALLY unfortunate how much I enjoyed this read....I am not a reblogger but LORD. A little loser boy does something special to me...where is my little loser boy with his little dick that I can coddle huh. I want the kind of loser boy that has to ramble cute little nerdy facts while he's inside of me to try and stop himself from cumming too quick (and failing anyways). I need him pathetic and whinny and exactly how Jisung was written in this. It's no longer a need it's a want I fear
It's embarrassing how hard he is when he just watches you handle his gun. It's a glock, a semi-automatic 9mm, crafted for target shooting. It's precise when in the right hands, and god, do your hands look like the right hands.
Distantly, he knows you're asking him questions. Wondering out loud about the weight and the capacity (24.9oz and 17+1 - Toji knows it off the top of his head), wondering how it would feel to shoot it.
Click.
And oh, the safety is disabled now. You handle it with ease, shifting into shooting position. You've got a gleam in your eyes that he just can't seem the place, and the way you're choking back a grin has him shifting in his seat. And if anyone else even thought about pointing a gun at him, Toji would end them. Their remains would already be splattered across the floor, blood soaking into the ugly off-white of the rug that he told you not to buy.
But you've got it cocked at him now, finger teasing the trigger, safety off. It's pointed right at his heart, and you're both standing too far away and too close.
And you're innocent to his struggle at first. You don't catch the way his eyes have glossed over or the way his sweatpants have an ever-growing wet spot coming right from where his tip is straining against the fabric. You don't see how he's straining so hard against his sweatpants that you might just be able to see the veins of his cock through them.
What you do catch is the little whimper that he lets out when you take a step closer.
It's quiet, just barely loud enough for you to hear over your own breathing. It comes from the back of his throat, and by the way his ears flush just a bit red, he knows that you heard. Knows that you know what you're doing to him now.
His cock twitches pathetically in his pants.
You're no longer hiding your grin, and the gleam in your eyes has turned somewhat sinister. You take another step. Then another. His eyes never leave the gun in your hands, even when the stain on his pants becomes increasingly obviously. No reason to hide what you already know.
And then you aim the barrel downwards. He watches it, tense, as it comes to point directly at his cock. His pathetic, leaking cock, that gushes out another stream of precum when you press the tip of the gun against his clothed cock.
He shudders, unable to do anything but whimper or twitch, mesmerized by you and the gun in your hand. The air is tense, tension thick enough to cut with a knife, when your voice slices through it.
"This is what turns you on?"
You say it with such contempt, like you're offended by how horny he is right now. He could flip the situation in a second - slip the gun from your hands and pin you down, tell you just how pathetic it is that you're turned on by this - but he won't. He can't, really. Not when you're looking at him like he's nothing more than the dirt underneath your shoe.
You wait for a moment for him to respond, but when you get nothing back, you let out a long sigh, as if he's an annoyance. Like it's his fault you're even in this situation in the first place.
"Pull your cock out."
It's a demand, not a ask. You aren't playing nice, not anymore. You nudge his cock with the barrel, snorting softly when he groans in response. His hands scramble to find his waistband, lifting his hips up just enough to yank his boxers and pants down to his ankles. His tip slaps gently against the black of his shirt, smearing precum on it. He's aching, cock flushed red from tip to balls. You want to just sink to your knees and wrap your lips around him, but you hold back. Right now, you have different plans.
Like running the tip of the gun up the side of Toji's cock, from base to tip. Your movements are slow, languid, and light - enough for him to feel, but not enough for him to get off. He wants to just make you do something, make him feel something, but he's glued to his seat, entranced by the way you handle his gun. The way your fingers look so delicate against the cool steel, yet you handle it with the ease of a trained professional.
Shit, he might just cum untouched.
And then you're straddling his legs, clothed thigh against clothed thigh. The gun is still moving lazily, but the pressure is a little stronger, and the side of the barrel presses into the heat of his skin, ice cold compared to his flushed cock. He gets a headrush from how much more blood seems to flow down, down, down to his cock, and he can't help the way his hips jut up against the steel. He's leaking so much that it acts as lube, slicking up the gun with his essence. It makes the glide against the rough metal a little smoother, and when you bring it to press against his balls just right, it has Toji throwing his head back, unable to choke back the moan clawing its way out of his throat. He can feel the way heat floods his cheeks, embarrassed out of his mind that he's even letting you do this at all, but he's already so close that he doesn't care anymore.
All he can think about is wanting to come across the gun and your hand, staining you with his seed.
And if you keep up your little movements, that dangerous smirk paired with your hooded eyes might just be enough to make him let go.
His eyes are glazed, unfocused. You let out another dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes at him.
"Watch."
He's embarrassed that he doesn't even try and look you in the eyes. He knows what you want - you want his eyes trailed on that 9mm, pressing against his pulsing cock.
"Cum."
At first, he's confused at the command. No build up, no nothing? But then, he watches your finger tease the trigger and-
Bang!
He comes harder than he's ever come in his life, eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out. Balls clenching, thighs shaking, Toji might have just seen heaven in the stars filling his vision, a constellation of your face filling his mind.
He wonders how sick in the head he must be to have gotten off on that. On the idea that you could have just blown his dick off. He thought that he had loaded that gun already, that you were actually putting a bullet right through the tip of his dick.
How embarrassing that you knew it would make him cum.
So embarrassing that he's never going to live this down, that's for sure.
Nothing here is written by us, we're a recommendations blog, these are all pieces written by other creators
If there's anything you think we've tagged incorrectly/you have a users tumblr where we don't/a link is wrong or broken - please let us know and we can adjust it
Feat. content about Toji, Nanami, Gojo, Choso, Geto, Sukuna
Reader insert content ahead
✅ - SFW Content
🔞 - NSFW Content
Toji
✅ Domesticity by @mochiqa
Toji/GN!Reader
✅ House a home by @applepiiex
Toji/M!Reader
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
Nanami
✅ Crawling back to you by @applepiiex
Nanami/M!Reader
🔞 Ruin me by @applepiiex
Nanami/M!Reader
✅ Yes to the dress by @applepiiex
Nanami/FTM!Reader
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
Gojo
🔞 Whimpering in bed by @fluttrdoll
Gojo/GN!Reader
✅ Office Culture by @creamflix
Gojo/M!Reader
🔞 Where'd you learn that? by @drouven
Gojo/M!Reader
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
🔞 Not so shy anymore by @daisies-and-domming
Gojo, Geto, Sukuna/F!Reader
Choso
🔞 Pound town by @nalgotica
Choso/M!Reader
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
Geto
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
🔞 Not so shy anymore by @daisies-and-domming
Gojo, Geto, Sukuna/F!Reader
Sukuna
🔞 Is it in yet? by @thenanamis
Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Sukuna/GN!Reader
🔞 Not so shy anymore by @daisies-and-domming
Gojo, Geto, Sukuna/F!Reader
Okay???? Are you mad at me or are you just informing me. I've never written anything for Megumi, only for Toji, and all of the rest of them are well over legal age...also this is fanfiction the canon can't hurt me I fear. I will continue to write dom!reader even though I certainly couldn't overpower them in real life ! Thanks for the heads up, I guess...?
Summary: Your boyfriend is bold - and no matter how long you’ve been with him, you can’t seem to stop the warm flush of your cheeks when he compliments you so easily. He’s used to you being shy, but one day you reach your breaking point. He wants to be bold? You can be bold, too!
Warnings: swearing, dom!reader, reader is (usually) easily fluster, petnames (Gojo calls you baby, Geto calls you my love, Sukuna calls you petal), p in an undefined hole (Gojo, Geto), praise kink (Sukuna), f!receiving oral (Sukuna)
Features Gojo, Geto, Sukuna
Thank you to the lovely @glassofapplejuicee for beta reading <3
Let me know if you think I missed anything!!
All characters are over 18 :)
– – –
This was a WIP that I never finished...I had a portion for Toji and Ino in the works, but I just haven't had time to get around to it, and unless y'all REALLY want their parts, I probably never will. Still, I hope you enjoy <3 As always, feel free to message me if you have any requests.
– – –
Gojo Satoru - Eyes on Me!
“Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight? Because if I haven’t, I’d like to get something off my chest - I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since you came downstairs, baby.”
“Satoru!” You gasp, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.
You hated how your boyfriend could waltz into the room and just say whatever was on his mind. His unbelievable self-confidence was ruinous - how were you meant to combat the constant barrage of sweet words he throws your way? You feel bad for Nanami, who just rolls his eyes and abandons your conversation, opting to go get a drink in the kitchen.
He was smart enough to know that you ceased to properly function when your silver-tongued boyfriend was around. In his defense, he couldn't help it, not when your reactions were so precious. He loved the way you froze up, and how your mouth would open and close without a word coming out. He revelled in the way your skin was warm to the touch when he spoke so brazenly, in how you couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards.
“Yes, baby?” He questioned, grinning at the bashful look on your face.
“Sorry, was that too much?”
“You’re not sorry at all!” you start with a groan, dragging a hand down your face, “Have you no shame, Satoru? You scared off Nanami!”
“Good,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.
“Then I get to have my beautiful baby aaaaall to myself. Sucks that we’re out here, or I’d show you just how beautiful I think you are,” he added with a whisper.
He thumbs at the hem of your shirt, but you’re so done with his bullshit. You hate how it barely took anything to get you all hot in the face, and you hate how much he clearly enjoys it. He was a charmer and he knew it, but it didn’t mean he could belittle you like this. Sometimes it made you feel small, like you couldn’t live up to the version of you that he had in his head.
You spin around, something feral glinting in your eyes. “Let’s go upstairs, then. You can show me just how beautiful you think I am.”
The frantic blink blink blink of his eyes would almost be comical if you weren’t so determined to remind him that you could be flashy and brazen. Two could play this game, after all.
“O-okay!” He just about stumbled over himself as he followed you upstairs.
You apologize in your head to whoever owns this house - Yaga? - because their spare room was about to look like a crime scene when you were done with him.
A house party usually means someone stumbling upstairs, drunk, and getting laid, but you were as sober as could be. This was deliberate - you were going to remind Gojo that even his title as “strongest” couldn’t save him from you.
You slip into the first empty room you can find and shove him in first, gently clicking the lock behind you. It’s dark, but you can make out the outline of a neatly made bed and a barren nightstand. You pray to every god imaginable that this room is a guest room as Gojo crowds you against the door, eyes aglow.
“Fuck, I love when you’re assertive like that, sweet cheeks,” he says, stealing a quick kiss between words.
“Let’s get you undressed, hm?”
“Off, Toru,” you say, wiggling your way out from between him and the door.
“You strip and get on the bed. Let me at least get the lights, please? Not all of us have six eyes to guide us.”
There it is again - that owlish blink - but he obeys without hesitation, making his way towards the bed. He leaves a trail of clothes in his wake as you flick on the lights, and you let yourself admire the rippling muscles in his back before you start to derobe yourself. By the time you’re done taking off your clothes, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you curiously.
You two certainly weren’t vanilla in bed by any means, but he had always been the one in control (except the one time he tried to get you to call him daddy - you quickly informed him you would NOT be doing that). This was new for both of you, but he clearly wasn’t opposed to it. If the stiffness of his untouched cock had anything to say about it, he seemed to be pretty damn into it.
“So…” he started, dragging out the ‘o’ “Are you gonna come over here, or what? I’m getting kinda bored!” Gojo whined, jutting out his bottom lip in a dramatic pout.
You roll your eyes, but make your way over to him. His eyes roam your body, and you pray he can’t see how much it’s affecting you. You try to keep your gaze steely, but you can’t help but look. He’s got goosebumps running up his arms and legs, and his cock twitches when you stare at it just a bit too long. He’s biting his lip when your stare finally makes its way to his face, eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust.
Silently, you motion to him to move further into the sheets, and he does, looking at you expectantly once he’s right in the middle of the bed.
“Alright baby,” you coo, moving to straddle him. “Be good for me, won’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he says frantically, hands hovering tentatively over your hips.
You give him the go ahead, and he kneads his fingers into the flesh of your hips, grip already bruising as you grind down on him just right.
He’s sensitive, more sensitive than he usually is, and you smirk down at him as he bites back a groan when your movements pick up.
“Feel good?” you do your best not to laugh when his head bobbles in response. “Aww, useless already? That’s okay sweetie, I’ve got you.”
“Want to put it in, can I?” His eyes meet yours, his tone dripping with need.
“Please, c-can I? Please, I’ve been guh-good, so good! Please please please, wanna feel you around me, see the outline of me in you, please!”
“Hmm, okay!” your hands reach down and you squeeze his cock hard, and your tone shifts. “On one condition. Can you do one little thing for me?”
His eyes are unfocused as you drag his angry tip teasingly against your entrance, but you won’t sink down until you’ve got your answer.
“Well, Toru?”
“Mhm- I can do it, I can do it!”
You lean down and kiss him, biting his lower lip as you pull away.
“Eyes on mine, or we stop.”
Without waiting for a confirmation, you sink down, right to the base. He’s big, and it hurts at first, but the tears at your waterline are worth it for the fucked out look that overtakes Gojo’s face. He’s already babbling nonsense, a mix of frantic swears and pleas, but you ignore him, choosing to experimentally roll your hips instead. Your eyes are on his the whole time, almost unfeeling, and it turns him on the way that you’re using him right now. He was right - you look absolutely stunning tonight.The sheen of sweat that covered your skin gave you a faint glow under the light of the room.
Nothing was more beautiful to him, he thought to himself, than you using him like an over-sized dildo.
“Might as well be,” you comment, something mean hiding in your gaze. “You’re-hah-not exactly doing much but laying there and taking it.”
Oh fuck, did he say that out loud?
“‘m not! You’re just-ngh-ridin’ me so guh-good, can’t help it!”
You rub a thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears (when did he start crying?). Your touch is far more gentle than the brutal pace you set with your hips. It’s bordering on painful, but the friction is so delicious you’re unable to stop as his cock slides against your velvet walls. He almost forgets your request, but when his eyes flutter shut and you freeze on top of him, looking down at him expectantly.
“W-why did you stop?” he sobs, eyes flying open. “C’mon, I was being so good-”
“I had one request, Gojo,” you say, tone cold.
“One request, and you couldn’t even do it. God, you’re pathetic. Got your dick a little wet and all that talk went out the door, huh?”
He whined, his hands reaching to grip your hips. He weakly tries to move you up and down his dick, legs twitching underneath you, but you won’t move. He really won’t look at you now - eyes anywhere but your face as he tries to buck up into your soft, wet heat. You know that if he really wanted to, the ball would be in his court again. He could overpower you in a second and take what he wants, but he won’t - he’s a good boy at heart.
“Are you done now?” you ask, rolling your eyes.
“Look at me.”
His eyes find yours again, searching them for a reprieve, but instead his breath catches at the look in your eyes. Despite just how mean you’re treating him, there’s something soft hiding in the glint of your eyes as you look down at him. You feel his heartbeat explode under your hand, and you let out a small huff. You grab his hand and he gives you a curious look, but as you raise it to your own chest he swears there’s nothing else in the universe but you. Your heartbeat is frantic under his fingertips, and when you look up at his face again, you think you see hearts in his eyes. But the moment passes, as all moments do, and you bring his hand back down to the sheets. Suddenly, he’s hyperaware of just how stupid he must look under you right now - hair messy, cheeks flushed, eyes teary - but he won’t look away. He thinks if you stop again he might die.
It made him nervous, seeing how composed you were above him, looking like some sort of deity. The eye contact had embarrassment clawing at him from under his skin, and a flush spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. Everything in him screamed look away, look away! but he couldn’t. There was nothing in this room, in the universe, but you you you and the way your body molded into his.
You weren’t faring much better. His eyes had always been mesmerizing, but there was something addicting to seeing them from this angle and watching them blur with tears. He was looking at you with reverence, with an unconditional sort of love, and it made your walls flutter around him. The rock of your hips started to get unsteady and you reached desperately for his hand, lacing your fingers together once you found purchase.
You maintained eye contact with him as you pulled it against your chest so he could feel the steady thump thump of your erratic heartbeat against his skin. His hips bucked up on their own, but you could barely care - not when his fat tip rubbed against your sweet spot just right with every bounce.
“Fuh-fuck, baby, can I?” he moaned, eyes teary.
“Can I, puh-please?”
He didn’t have to say it - you know what he’s begging for. But what fun is it if you let him have what he wants so easily?
“Can you what, baby? Are you asking me to stop?”
Your pace drops to a slow grind, hitting your sweet spot perfectly but not giving him nearly as much friction as he needs to let go. The whine he lets out at the loss of friction is desperate, and he can no longer hold back the waterworks. You reach down to wipe away the tears, feigning concern.
“What’s wrong, baby? I thought this is what you wanted. You couldn’t use your big boy words, so I just had to assume, you know.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll do better next time, just please go faster, please, I’m b-begging you!”
You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. “So needy, aren’t you? Well, I guess you did ask nicely…”
“S-so, nicely, please? I want it so bad, need it, please please please?”
Always one for dramatics, even when his brain is mush, you note, but at this point you’re also starting to feel a little bit desperate. You want to drag it out more but you can’t, not when his gushing head brushes your sweet spot for the nth time.
You try to keep your cool demeanor, but it starts to slip when you watch Gojo’s pretty pink lips form the most perfect little ‘o’ as your hips speed up. He’s still watching you intently; brilliant blue eyes locked on yours. You shoot him a sweet little smile before speaking again.
“You’re doing so good baby,” your voice shaky as your peak nears. “So good I might just let you cum. Are you ready to cum?”
A pathetic, needy look flashes across his features, and he begins to blubber out pleas.
“So ready, the r-readiest, never been more ready in my life!” He's struggling to keep eye contact now, but he’s trying your best (and you’re close) so you let it slide.
“Can I, can I please? Please, m-mommy, need it, I need to cum in you, fill you up, please!”
His pleas send you over the edge and your orgasm crashes over you uncontrollably, frantically clasping his hand in yours as it does.
“Cum with me, baby, c-cum, cum.”
He wails, hips bucking violently as he’s finally allowed release. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes open, too, as your orgasm sweeps over you. There’s something so strangely intimate about this moment as you both rut into each other, riding out your highs. Every ounce of love, every word he hasn’t said, he pours into his gaze, and you into yours. There’s a sort of magic in the moment, an almost tangible buzzing in the air around you two.
There’s a flicker of something in the corner of his eyes, a flash of blue lightning, and the nearby light explodes as his eyes finally roll back. If you were more aware you’d realize that Gojo had felt so good he had lost control of his jujutsu, but the jolt of pleasure-pain from the electricity at his fingertips is enough to send your eyes rolling back, too.
When you finally manage to stop the shaky roll of your hips, you look down at Gojo, smiling softly at him. He always managed to look insanely gorgeous in every moment, and you couldn’t help but admire him as he came down from his high. You’re still holding hands, and he gives yours a gentle squeeze, looking absolutely lovesick.
You want to deal with the broken glass, you really do, but instead you gently lift your hips and flop down next to him, exhausted.
Later, you’d find out that power went out across the whole block, and that the party downstairs definitely knew what you two were up to, but for now, you’re content.
Well, you were content. Suddenly, you shoot up, peering over at your boyfriend, just now processing what he had babbled earlier.
“Did you call me mommy earlier?”
He flushes, looking anywhere but you. “Shut up!!”
You laugh, letting it go for now. A conversation for another time, you suppose. You lay back down, pulling him into your chest. You don’t quite know what took over you tonight, but you’re glad. Because sometimes, your stupid cocky boyfriend needed to be reminded that you weren’t just beautiful - you were deadly.
Geto Suguru - Touch Me, Touch Me!
“Suguru.”
“My love.”
“Suguru.”
“My love?”
You can’t even look him in the eye right now. You don’t have to, because you can picture the smug, self-assured look on his face without actually seeing him. You’re out for dinner with your friends - Gojo, Shoko, and Nanami - and yes, perhaps you wanted to be somewhere else, too, but your boyfriend was being insufferable. Whispering little things into your ear, about how ravishing you look tonight and what he’s going to do to you later and how he’s obsessed with every little thing about you. And honestly? You were sick of it. Not only was he making it impossible to enjoy the night out with your mutual friends, but the warm buzz of arousal under your skin was making it hard for you to sit still. The smugness in his eyes as he watched you clench your thighs together was enough for something more akin to anger to bubble up. The image of him, on his knees, begging for just a touch had you grinning right back at him. He tilted his head, almost as if asking “what?”, but you gently shook your head, rejoining the conversation with your friends.
Biding your time proved to be worth it. The more you refused to acknowledge your boyfriend’s advances, the more desperate he got.
“How about we get out of here, hm? I’m starting to get a little bored, and I can think of something far more fun for us to do.” The teasing lilt of his voice and the predatory smirk usually had you biting your cheek and looking away, but you held your ground. Instead, your eyes moved to meet his, trying your best to remain nonchalant.
“Well I’m having fun,” you start, reaching over to squeeze his upper thigh. “So just sit still and look pretty for a little longer, okay? I know you’re impatient, my love, but you can wait a little longer, can’t you? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
You bit back a smile as confusion made its way to Suguru’s face. Mocking him, telling him to wait? You’d never done that, ever. Before he gets a chance to retort, you turn yourself back to Shoko and pick your conversation back up, leaving your hand on his thigh.
As the night dragged on, even you were starting to get bored. Somehow, Gojo had managed to get a drink, and, immediately drunk, began rambling on about his students and their adventures. You’re sure these stories would be interesting if he was hiccuping between words and taking long pauses mid-story to remember the story at all. Suguru had warned you that Gojo was a lightweight, but you were still surprised by how low his tolerance was.
Despite the drag, you had a bit of entertainment at the tip of your fingers. Quite literally, for that matter - Suguru’s thigh remained in your grip, and whenever you felt the urge, you’d give it a squeeze. If he was lucky, you might even brush over his dick first, which had stiffened noticeably since you had started your antics. You were starting to understand why he teased you all the time - his reactions were so delicious - and while he wasn’t forgiven by any means, you figured a little payback was in order.
When a (very drunk) Gojo finally got around to paying the bill, you had to try your best not to jump at the chance to leave. You loved your friends, but you had been sitting on a landmine since you’d started teasing Suguru. You had to be careful - push him too far, and he grabs whatever semblance of control you’ve created right out of your hands.
The drive home is silent. You hadn’t drank, so you grabbed the keys out of his hands, giving him a sly grin. Control is a fickle thing, so you tread lightly as you pull the car in. One misstep, and you lose. But you’re pretty confident you’ve got him right where you want him when he can barely manage to get the keys into the door. Yaga (bless his soul) had agreed to watch the girls for the night, so you two had the house to yourselves.
You watch patiently as he locks the door. He turns around to say something, but you put a finger up to your lips and grab his hand with your free one. Quickly, as to not lose your momentum, you drag him to the bedroom. You guide him to the bed, gently pushing him to sit up against the headboard. You strip yourselves of your clothes, and try to ignore the burn of his eyes as they drink you in. You wanted to tease him some more, but he could see the desperation in the slight tremble of your hands - you needed this just as much as he did.
You sink into the bed across from him, just far enough away that he can’t reach. “Hands to yourself, okay?”
“My love, you can’t be serious-”
“Hands to yourself. And that’s final, Suguru.”
You reach down to touch yourself, gently rubbing your entrance with two teasing fingers. You make sure to exaggerate how good you make yourself feel - a twitch of the leg here, a flutter of the eyes there - and his hands are already gripping the sheets, knuckles white. You suck your own fingers into your mouth, mimicking the motions of giving him head, and pull off of them with an obscene pop! Still fully clothed, you watch his cock jump in his pants, straining against the tight fabric. You grin lazily, and look him right in the eyes as you insert your fingers into your entrance. Your eyes do actually flutter this time as you curl your fingers just right, finding that spongy sweet spot deep inside of you. Your fingers barely reached it, and briefly, you miss the feeling of Suguru’s long, thick fingers, but the drunken look on his face was worth the struggle.
“Hah- haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking, aren’t you, Sugu? Does it feel good, watching me touch myself?”
“S-shut up!” A deep red flush overtook his cheeks, spreading so far that his neck glowed a beautiful cherry red.
He moves to lay down, eyes searching yours for an answer, but he finds one when you move to hover over his face. His hands move up to grip your thighs, but you swat them away.
“Did you already forget your manners, Suguru? I asked you to keep your hands to yourself. Can you not follow one, simple instruction?”
“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he cries out, tears gathering at his waterline. “Can I touch you, please? Need it, need you-”
“Hmm, let me think about it…” you look down at him, biting back a grin at the hopeful look in his eyes. “Nope! Sorry sugar, you’ll have to wait your turn. In the meantime, do you think you can touch yourself for me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” he says, frantically fumbling to get his pants far enough down for his cock to spring out. You hear it thump! against his shirt, and, at a glance, he’s leaking. Fat globs of precum are dripping from his angry, red tip, and the vein that runs so pretty up the side of his cock is bulging out. He reaches a hand down to touch himself, but you stop him, grabbing his hand. You bring his hand up to your face and look him right in the eyes as you spit into his palm. An almost pornographic moan slips from his mouth, and his eyes roll back when you guide his spit-soaked hand down to his neglected cock. Once he’s set a somewhat steady pace fisting his pathetic cock, you reach down to toy with yourself again, staring down at Suguru with lidded eyes. His eyes are fixated on your now glistening entrance, your fingers going in and out tantalizingly.
He doesn’t know what’s possessing him to listen to you - both of you know he’s more than strong enough to flip you both over and take what he wants - but there’s something so hot about the way you’re looking down on him, as if he’s not even worth your time. As if he doesn’t deserve your presence, but you’re kind enough to give it to him anyways.
He can’t help the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “D-don’t deserve you baby-hnngh-don’t deserve you! Th-thank you for letting me touch my p-puh-pathetic cock, thank you thank you thank you-”
You cut him off, clenching around your fingers at just how broken he sounded. “You’re welcome, baby. So beautiful like this, all spread out underneath me. Do you know why you’re not allowed to touch me?”
“I-I dunno, ‘m sorry.” he says with a pout. His brows furrowed in concentration, but the cross of his eyes and the tears clinging to his waterline told you all you needed to know.
“Aww, baby, fucked dumb already?” you say, tone sickly sweet. “Didn’t even touch you and you’re already about to squirt.”
He squirms under you, teary eyes blinking up at you owlishly. “‘ts not s-squirt, ‘m not a g-guh-girl! I’m not-mgnh!”
You let out a mean laugh at his pathetic protests. “No? Sure are squealing like one, sugar. Open your mouth for me.”
He does as he’s told, his tongue lolling out uselessly. You reach down with your free hand and hold his mouth open with your thumb and pointer finger and spit, right onto his tongue.
You hold him there for a little longer, watching him gurgle on your spit and his own moans. “Alright, baby: swallow.”
He gulps loudly, and a slew of broken ah ah ah!s spew out of his mouth. You can see that he’s getting close - the unfocused look in his eyes and the buck of his hips up up up from the bed told you that much - and you’re not too far off, yourself. Your domineering, teasing boyfriend was a total wreck underneath you, squealing and moaning like a pornstar. You could’ve probably cum untouched from the sight, really.
“Gonna come already?” you sneer, snarling down at him. “You’re gonna cum, fisting your pathetic cock like a slut?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, g’nna cum,” he groans out, eyes rolled into the back of his skull. “Ooooh, I’m gonna cum, please please please, need to cum, can I? Hnngh! Can’t hold it, please, cum cum cum-”
“Pull your hand away.”
He borderline screams in frustration as he rips his hand away from his swollen cock, just to actually scream when you quickly move down his body and sink down on his cock. You sigh at the feeling of him filling you up, the stretch so intense but so perfect that you couldn’t complain. You were so close you were sure a couple bounces would be all it would take. So you immediately throw yourself into a monstrous pace, the room filling with the wet shlap! of your hips meeting his.
You lock eyes with him, only for a moment, but it’s all you need. “Cum.”
As if on command, you feel him twitch inside of you, and the splash of his warm cum filling your insides. You lose control of your hips as you bounce wildly, chasing your own orgasm. You miss the way Suguru’s eyes roll back as your own find the inside of your skull, and you cum around him. It’s perhaps the strongest orgasms of both of your lives, and by the time you come down, your legs are shaking and your inner thighs are coated with a gross mix of both of your fluids. The room smells of sex and sweat, and the only sound in the room is the quiet pants of both of you as you try to find some sort of grasp on reality again.
“F-fuck, my love, what the hell was that?”
You laugh, a beautiful sound, as you carefully lift your hips to pull his softening cock out of you. “Was sick of your attitude, someone had to do something.”
“Give a guy a warning next time,” he says, throwing an arm over his face to hide the embarrassed flush of his skin. “Don’t think I’ve ever come that fast.”
“Mhm, me neither,” you admit. “Wonder if I can break that record next time…”
“Next time?? My love, you can’t be serious-”
You giggle as you head off to the bathroom to grab stuff to clean him up with. “Sorry, what was that?? I think you’re cutting out!”
“We’re talking in real life-get back here!”
Sukuna Ryomen - So Good You Might Just Taste Heaven on Your Tongue
Sukuna Ryomen was not known for his flattery. He did not go out of his way to tell you that he “loved you” or “cared for you”, or any nonsense like that. Instead he was rather blunt. Anything that came out of his mouth he believed to be the absolute truth. Which is why it was so much more flustering than if he was actually trying to flatter you. He doesn’t just mean the things he says - he believes that everyone should, too.
“Your eyes look like heaven, petal.”
“I want to hold you this instant. My arms feel empty without you in them.”
“I planted the roses in the garden because I was inspired by your beauty, but their colors seem dull whenever you walk past.”
He doesn’t hold his tongue, either. He’s the King of Curses, after all. He had no reason toe - anyone who dared scoff or even laugh at the way he spoke about you met a swift, gruesome end. He’s never minded a bit of blood, anyways.
You, on the other hand, aren’t so forward. You were more in the subtlety - a brush of the hand, a flutter of the eyelash, a love note hidden in between the pages of a book. You’re not used to the brashness in which Sukuna speaks, and he was almost confused by your flustered state at first. He was simply speaking the truth, after all. He had no reason to lie to you, his sweet petal. But as time passed, and he began to understand your silly human customs, he found your silly faces quite…endearing. There was something special about being the only one who could pull those expressions from you.
“Ryo, stop!”
Like now, for instance. He had simply told you that your eyes glittered like diamonds in the sunlight, and suddenly those same eyes were looking anywhere but his face. You hated when he did this, and he knew it, but it was so hard to resist when your lovely lips had already pulled themselves into a cute little pout. How was he to help himself? You had yourself propped on the loveseat next to the window, animatedly telling him about your day. He had chosen to splay himself on the bed (he had honestly hoped you would have chosen to sit on his lap instead, but when it comes to you, he would take what he could get). Anyone would’ve noticed the way the sun caught in your eyes and made them glow, he was sure. Why else would he be so enraptured by it?
“Sorry, petal,” he said, anything but sorry. “Not my fault you’re beautiful, is it?”
“It’s my parents’ fault, actually.”
“Ha ha.”
This was your usual tactic: attempting to hide your embarrassment behind a joke or two. You knew the sudden loss of eye contact and the nervous fiddling of your hands gave you away, but you like to pretend that you’re getting away with it each time (even when you both know you’re not).
“C’mere,” Sukuna beckoned with a lazy curl of his finger.
“Sick of you being all the way over there. Plenty of room for both of us on the bed, petal.”
“Oh, are you now?” You ask, but you’re already moving to get up.
In a moment of boldness (stupidity?) you plop yourself right onto his lap, straddling his thighs. You’re looking right at him, and now you’ve caught him off guard. You couldn’t tell from his face, but the tips of his ears were colored a bright red and it made you grin, something warm curling in your lower abdomen. It’s not often that you get to turn the tables like this on your stoic boyfriend.
You run a gentle hand up his chest, moving to gently cradle his face. He leans into your touch, eyes curious as you thumb at his lips. He lets them part and you lean in, gently locking your lips with his. It starts sweet, as all kisses do, but the heat in your stomach doesn’t disappear, and the kisses become more frantic. Your hips cant against his once, twice, before you pull away for air.
“Where’d this come from, petal? Not that I’m complaining.” Sukuna says, eyes lidded.
“Dunno,” you murmur, guiding him to lay down against the plush of the sheets. “Want to find out?”
“God, you’re hot when you take what you want.”
“Thanks,” you say, breath hot against his neck.
It made a shiver run down his spine and a heat rush down to his cock. You feel it twitch against you and you grin up, teasing, but he won’t look you in the eyes. You huff, pinching his cheeks between your hands, turning his face so he can’t look anywhere but you.
“You’re beautiful too, y’know,” you say, looking down at him so earnestly that he can’t help but gaze up at you.
And in that moment you’re hit with utter certainty that no one had ever called him beautiful but you. The scars he bore and the weight he carried on his shoulders made him a threat to everyone around him, curses and sorcerers alike. And you knew that, sure, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that he had always been that. There was no happy childhood, no middle school crushes, no family to remind him that a part of him was human at all. But he truly was naturally very beautiful - he just never had the luxury of being allowed to be so.
You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
The flush reaches beyond his ears this time, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “I’m quite certain that’s not true.”
You frown, but something in your eyes glints, feral. “Let’s start with your face, hm? Perfect cheekbones, soft lips, pretty ruby eyes, just the most rideable nose…mhm, mind if I show you just how beautiful your face is?”
He smirks, the sharp point of his canines peeking over his lower lip. “If you’re implying that you’re going to ride my face, then by all means petal, go right ahead.”
You know that you’re only holding some semblance of control because he wants you to have it, but there’s still a rush of heat in your veins at the idea of using his face to get off. You strip your pants and underwear in one fell swoop, flinging them onto the floor carelessly. They were a problem for later - right now, you were going to ride Sukuna’s face to kingdom come.
“Don’t move.” you say, moving to straddle his face.
His hands move to grab your hips, but you slap them away, sending him a warning look. He looks up at you, clearly amused, but he humors you anyways, letting his hands fall back to his side. You sink down, nice and slow, letting out a gentle sigh as his tongue makes contact with your entrance.
He laps at you gently, eyes fluttering as he tastes your essence on his tongue. A low groan grumbles out of his throat, and the vibrations against your flesh make you sink deeper on him.
Usually, his hands would sink into the meat of your hips, guiding your entrance against his eager tongue, but he was being surprisingly good, letting you take what you want without a complaint. Your hand slides down into the soft tufts of his hair, gently sifting your fingers through it before giving it a sharp tug as his tongue reaches a sweet spot inside you. You consider apologizing, but at the way his hazy eyes look up at you almost reverently, you know he wants this. Wants you to use him like he’s nothing more than a toy, like he’s just meant to be an appendage to your pleasure.
“You like this, don’t you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
“You like being under me like this.”
Shit. You definitely should’ve kept that to yourself - even when it’s true, Sukuna doesn’t like to be made less than, especially by a mere mortal. You lift your hips off of him, keen on apologizing, when a whine tears from his throat at the loss.
“G-get your hips back down here, damn it,” he demands harshly, refusing to actually return your curious gaze.
You huff softly, surprised he’s letting you take it this far. While he didn’t really ask as much as he commanded you to return to your original position, the fact that he hadn’t simply pulled you back down himself was very telling. You decide that perhaps you should test your luck. No matter the outcome, you’re guaranteed a good time, after all.
“Is that how we ask for things?” you ask, disappointment clear in your tone.
“Try again.”
“Are you serious, petal?” he responds, incredulously. “If you’re asking me to beg, I will do no such thing.”
“Okay,” you say, shifting to straddle his chest. “Then you won’t get what you want.”
He’s about to retort, but it’s caught in his throat as you let out a gentle sigh, hand moving to slip your fingers into your leaking entrance. Your other hand presses firmly on his abdomen, just above where his twitching members were begging to be touched.
He’s above this - he’s the King of Curses, damn it - but when your eyes flutter as your too short fingers just barely brush your sweet spot, his resolve crumbles just a bit. He reaches for you, rough hands circling your waist as he tries to move you back up to his drooling mouth.
“Sukuna.”
Your voice is low, commanding, and for the first time in his long life, he listens without a second thought. Hands drop back to his side mindlessly, like his body could do nothing but obey your saccharine voice.
“Good boy.”
You return to touching yourself, perched on his chest like you own him, and he seethes underneath you. How dare you do this to him, reduce him to nothing more than a dog begging for scraps. He tells himself that he’s letting you have your fun, that soon he’ll flip you over and take what he wants from you, yet he can’t take his eyes off your glistening entrance. It’s mesmerizing the way your fingers slide in and out, and the wet shlick of your entrance has him salivating. He wants to taste you on his tongue, to be the thing drawing those perfect little noises out of you, but instead he’s resigned to watching you please yourself.
The way you look down at him is almost mocking, and he snarls when he finally snaps out of his reverie to look up at you.
“So? Are you going to try again? I believe in you, ‘Kuna.”
“Fuck off!” he growls, eyes sharp. “F-fuck you, damn it! I’ll only say this one more time: get your hips back down here. Now, petal.”
You laugh, a tinkling sound, because you’re smart enough to know that if Sukuna really wanted you to give in to his words, he would’ve already grabbed you and put you in your place. He would never say it out loud, but the flush of his face and the hint of submission glittering in his eyes was enough to tell you that he wanted you to break him. Force him to beg until he was so humiliated he lost himself.
“‘Kuna. Look at me.”
The second he does, he regrets it. The sadistic glint in your eyes does something to him, and something warm sits in his abdomen that he can’t quite explain. He’s never been this turned on in his life (not that he’d ever admit that to you), and he tries his best to keep his harsh demeanor.
“What is it? Finally giving in, brat?”
“Funny,” you say, leaning down and sinking your teeth into the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
His head tilts to allow you better access, and you like a long stripe up the side of his neck, nibbling at spots that you know are sensitive. He tries to remain still under you, but when you bite a particular sensitive spot he jolts as if he’s been shocked. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt to keep any noises from escaping.
As you mark up his neck, one of your hands reaches down to toy with your entrance again. You’re soaked, and your essence is starting to leave a wet spot on Sukuna’s shirt from how much you’re absolutely dripping. If you weren’t so set on making your goliath of a boyfriend break, you’d be tempted to bring yourself to completion right here, right now.
“H-hey, brat.”
You glance up at him, curious. He seems to be expecting a proper response, but you decide he doesn’t deserve one, opting to raise a brow at him instead.
“You win, alright? I’m done with your games. If I must beg to make you cease your nonsense, then I will.”
You wait, but he says nothing else. You roll your eyes, bringing your hand that’s covered in your essence to hover right over his lips.
“I’m waiting, Sukuna. Will you be good for me now?”
“I’ve never been good a day in my life, you know that, petal-”
“Ryomen.”
You feel the shudder he lets out at you finally using his first name, enjoying the way that even words could draw out such a cute reaction from your usually stoic boyfriend.
“Fine, whatever. I will be ‘good’, sure. Just sit on my face again, won’t you? See, now I’m asking. Is that better for you, petal? Am I finally being ‘good’?”
He’s grinning, cocky, like he’s about to win some sort of prize, and suddenly you can’t help but bring a hand down, slapping him harshly right across the face. The sound echoes through his chambers as he blinks in disbelief, unable to believe that you just slapped him.
“Good? You think that was being good?” You seethe, seeing red.
“If you don’t fix your god damn attitude, I’m going to make you watch me cum over and over again and let your pathetic dicks wet your pants with precum. Let them turn purple with need, soaking your pants like a dog in heat, and then I’m going to leave you here to jerk them off alone, knowing it won’t feel nearly as good as even my heels digging into them. Do I make myself clear? Or do I need to slap some sense into you again?”
“Crystal.” he swallows, throat dry.
Suddenly it was so warm in here. You were right - he was feeling just like a dog in heat, pitifully licking his chops at the idea of tasting you. He was certain his underwear was ruined, tainted with globs of sticky precum that was absolutely gushing out of his cocks at the way you were treating him. He wanted you to hit him again, slap him like he was nothing, just do anything to him.
“Okay then, last chance, Sukuna. Beg.”
He closes his eyes. Fuck, was he really going to do this? Let some puny mortal, a feeble human, no less, walk all over him like this? He was a king, the most feared creature in all of the lands, and yet -
“Fine then. If you don’t have it in you, then I’ll just-”
“No, please!”
You grin, feral, at his response. You don’t move, letting him look up at you like he’s going to die without you on top of him.
“F-fuck, what have you done to me?” he says, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Please, petal. Don’t make me ask again, please? Need to taste you on my tongue, stop teasing me, damn it, I’ll be good, I’ll be whatever you want, just…please.”
He’s flushed red, and you save him any further embarrassment by moving to straddle his face again.
“Good boy, Ryo.”
His eyes roll back as you finally sink back down on his face, tasting your sweet nectar on his tongue. He’s been waiting too long, and he claws at the sheets when he finally has you.
He’s letting out the cutest little sounds against your entrance, sending a pleasant vibration through your core, and you thread your fingers through his hair again. All the teasing you’ve done to yourself has your orgasm barrelling at you, and you’d be embarrassed if Sukuna wasn’t absolutely drunk on your taste.
“God, f-fuck, just like that, Ryo,” you murmur, hips canting against his face.
He doesn’t respond, too lost in the way you’re dripping on his tongue. You're grinding down so hard that he can barely breathe, but he could care less about air right now - all he can think about is you you you. You riding his face so perfectly, you all dressed in white, you with a pretty little ring on your finger. Just you as a part of his forever.
“Ryo, ‘m gonna!” you say breathlessly, hips beginning to shake as the coil in your stomach starts to snap.
He knows you told him not to, but he can’t allow himself to miss a single drop of your cum, and his hands come up to grip your thighs and dig your entrance right into his waiting mouth. As your eyes roll back, his do too, and he thinks for a moment that he might just cum in his pants. Your grip on his hair is lethal, and it’s doing things to him as you use him to ride out your high. The sickening twist in his guts lets him know that he likes this, perhaps a bit too much - being merely an object to your pleasure, a means to an end.
And you - you’re looking down at him with such devotion, and as his eyes meet yours, there’s nothing short of pure adoration in your gaze. You frantically fumble to move down, a gentle hand reaching to thumb at his cheek as you take him in. He looks far too wrecked to have not been touched, and yet, without looking, you knew he was good enough to keep his hands off his dicks without you asking. Your bare pelvis brushes against the outline in his jeans as you shift to straddle him, grinning at the way he groans low in his throat. You laugh airly at this, swiftly moving to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. You can still taste the remnants of yourself on him as his hand finds the back of your head, guiding your mouth back to his. You want to remind him not to touch, but your body can’t resist how sweetly he kisses you, like you two are the only people on the Earth.
He pulls away, eyes tracing your features, an unreadable look on his face. You don’t have time to question him before he’s already speaking his mind.
“Alright, you minx,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve had enough. It’s my turn now.”
Before you can retort, he’s flipping you both over, a sharp glint of something ruthless in his eyes. You gulp, suddenly so small under his gaze.
could you put your longer writings under a read more cut please
Oh god are they not 😧 when i hit edit on my more recent works have the "read more" cut....but if it's not actually working then i will fix that ASAP 🫡 thank you for letting my know anon!! i wrote a lot of my less recent works on an ancient chromebook so admittedly things never saved quite right...siiiiiiigh tumblr makes my head hurt
New Obey Me! game....new Obey Me! game except you can only romance the demon brothers...new Obey Me! game but you can MARRY the demon brothers!! surely the fans will love and celebrate this
Summary: A new sort of Wanderer keeps appearing around Linkon City, sending the Hunters Association into a frenzy trying to figure out just what it does. When killed, it releases some sort of dangerous “pollen”, but that’s all you’re really cleared to know - other than the clear warning to get back to headquarters as soon as possible if you are hit. Turns out, that’s easier said than done.
Warnings: yes this is an A/B/O fic (the demons got me), afab!reader, omega!reader, alpha!characters, heat, swearing, petnames (Zayne calls you "darling" and "wife"), marking/mating, breeding kink (Zayne), office sex, a little bit dubcon!!
This is Zayne's part to this series! Looking for someone else?
Rafayel | Xavier | Caleb
Or use the tag #daisy's series: in heat!
Let me know if you think I missed anything!!
All characters are over 18 :)
– – –
It was a simple mistake, you try and tell yourself. You didn’t know the Wanderer was going to explode like that!
But even the simplest of mistakes gets people in your profession killed. Being a Deepspace Hunter, especially a hunter in the UNICORNS unit, meant you couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not when other people’s lives were on the line.
So you don’t go back to headquarters, not yet anyhow,heading straight for the hospital instead.
You know for a fact Zayne’s in office tonight, because you were complaining about him cancelling yet again your plans to hang out. He was your best option right now - whatever you got hit with is making you feel all sorts of weird.
The first thing you noticed was your vision blurring and your sense of smell dulling; like the world was fading into grey. You smack the side of your head, trying to keep yourself in one piece. The hospital was only two more blocks away, and you couldn’t afford to not make it. Even if Zayne didn’t know exactly what was happening to you, hopefully he could draw your blood or send you for an eval in one of the other offices. There’s no one in your life that you trust quite like Zayne, and you’re certain that he can help you with whatever the hell was going on with you.
The second thing you notice, as you draw nearer to the hospital, is the looks. People always look at you, especially when you’re in your hunter’s uniform, but there’s something…different. Some people look sympathetic, like they know something you don’t. Others jeer at you, making comments that made you wish you were off the clock right now and could kick their ass. But you’re a professional - so you hold your head high, and you keep moving.
You make it into the clear glass doors of the hospital, and that’s when the third thing hits - the smell. Your sense of smell had dropped drastically when this “pollen” had originally got you, but there was a mysterious smell coming from somewhere in the hospital that was calling out to you. It smelled like hot chocolate on a winter’s day, the kind that you have right next to the fireplace after having been outside for too long. It smelled like home, and almost mindlessly, you try to follow it.
You’re stopped pretty quickly by a nurse, who mutters something about “heat” and “omega” to one of the passing nurses. You’re led to sit down, but the bright lights of the waiting room are nauseating, and you almost lose your whole lunch as your world spins.
“-you okay? Is there anything we can do for you? If you forgot your heat suppressants, I can direct you to the pharmacy down the street-”
“Heat? What are you talking about?” You respond, snapping your head towards hers, “I’m here to see Dr. Zayne. He’s my primary care physician? Something’s wrong, I just went through a Wanderer attack, and-”
She shushes you, looking over her shoulder (likely for back-up, even you can tell you’re acting a bit crazed right now).
“Honey, you’re in heat. At this point, all we can do is suggest a heat partner. Do you have a ride home?”
You frown, still not understanding. In heat? You’re a beta, always have been. You don’t have to worry about finicky things like “heats” or “ruts”. You move to try and explain this to her, but a voice from behind the nurse cuts you off.
“Is everything alright? What could you possibly be doing here this late - oh.”
Zayne’s voice sends a spike of heat through your body, and you can’t help the smallest of whines from slipping out of your mouth. It’s quiet, but you can tell he hears it, and his whole demeanor shifts.
“Did they tell you what happened?”
The nurse tries to tell Zayne what you’ve told her so far, but he’s not actually listening - all of his senses are honed in on you. He notes your symptoms - visible fever, shortness of breath, pupils dilated - and he motions for the nurse to move, offering you an arm.
“They’re my patient. They’ll listen to me,” he tells the nurse, keeping his composure as much as he can.
He won’t tell her that it’s because he’s merely a man, a selfish one at that, and he can’t stand the burning looks of the other alphas in the room boring into you. To them, you’re nothing more than a good time, a pretty little omega for them to fuck and move on. Something protective rumbles in his chest before he can stop it. The nurse sends him a skeptical look, about to protest, when you grip on to his extended arm, and oh. Your skin isn’t even touching his, and yet it’s like a wet dream come true. You set him alight, and it takes everything in his power not to coo at you as you lean your weight into him.
“Zayne, what’s happening to me?” You sigh, looking up at him with your eyes blown wide.
“Let me get you to my office, okay? I can tell you everything you need to know there, just need to get you away from-” he sends a weary, menacing look to any wandering eyes behind him, “-from all of these heathens.”
“Okay,” you respond, so soft and sweet it sends a sick sort of thrill down Zayne’s spine.
He knows as he leads you to his office it’s a bad idea. He knows, but he can’t help himself. He’ll regret it in the morning, but for now? For now, he can have you, his darling, all needy for him in his office. He imagines bending you over every surface of the room, pushing your bare body up against the glass for everybody to see - and he’s already leaking. If you were a well attuned omega, you would be able to smell the lust rolling off of him in waves, but you don’t know what’s happening to you. All you know is that something about Zayne is sending your body into a frenzy, and you want nothing more than to burn under his touch.
Finally, finally, you make it into his office, where he guides you to sit on the couch there. He hovers for a moment, as if contemplating his next move, before leaving you there to lock the door (odd - you don’t remember him ever locking the door for your other appointments). He’s almost on top of you in the next instant, and his scent makes your brain foggy and your limbs heavy. He smells like warmth on a winter day, and you’re acutely aware, if only for a moment, that you’d let him do anything to you.
He reaches out with a hand, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to look up at him. His other hand brushes stray hairs from your face, before falling back to his side. He looks just as crazed as you feel, his pupils swallowing the chocolate brown of his eyes. If it weren’t for the lab coat he was wearing, you’d be able to see the wet patch he’s leaving on the front of his slacks, his cock already straining for release.
“So?” Yyou ask, eyeing him curiously. You’re a little on edge now, your senses a little sharper.
You may have been hit by something funny, but you’re not stupid. Zayne, in all of his quiet composure, has a tell - the tips of his ears are dusted with a light pink, and he pushes up his glasses not once, but twice (even if they’re not on his face. It makes you giggle every time). He’s holding something back, and you’re worried all over again.
That’s when a terrible pain rips through your body, like your abdomen is being ripped apart from the inside. It feels like something is trying to claw its way out of you, and a sob wracks your body. Zayne rushes forward as your body goes limp.
“Hey, hey, look at me, darling,” he says, urgency lacing his tone.
“Look at me.”
The pain ebbs a bit as he nears, but you can still feel the way the pain tears at your stomach. Barely lucid, your weary eyes find his, pleading and wet.
“I can help, okay? Are you okay with me helping? Just let go for me, darling.”
He’s close - too close - but God, you could care less right now. There’s nothing in the room right now but him, in all of his glory, hovering just inches away from you.
You give him the smallest of nods, but it’s enough. Enough for him to spring into action, hand already working at the button of your pants. You’re so wet with slick that he has to peel them off your skin, but it’s worth it to see you, poised on his work couch in only your underwear.
He thumbs at the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping under it teasingly.
“May I?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, go ‘head,” you say back, voice gravelly with want.
But he doesn’t take them off like you thought he would - instead, he shoves his face right up against your entrance, lapping at it through the soaked fabric of your underwear. Your hips buck instinctually, and his hands find their way to your thighs, kneading at them. Your legs try to close around his head, but he gives you a warning look over his glasses, and you try your best to keep them spread. A small smirk appears on his face at your obedience, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, because he’s already diving back in for more.
Even through your underwear, he can taste your arousal so potently, coating his tongue like the sweetest ambrosia. He’s sucking it through your underwear like a pervert. All open-mouthed and nasty, but it’s only making the slick pour from your entrance like a waterfall. Watching the usually cool and collected Zayne fall apart at merely a taste of you was dragging you close to an early edge. His glasses are starting to fog at the heat you’re radiating, but he doesn’t care - just dives deeper into you. He wants to taste you on his tongue forever, to keep his pretty, perfect omega satisfied. He doesn’t need anything from you, the bulge in his pants meant nothing to him. All he can think about is drawing those sweet little noises from you.
Your hand finds its way to his hair, and in a pleasure-seeking haze, you grind his face into your entrance. He groans, rich and deep, and it sends pleasant shockwaves through your system. Everything is hazy, like you’ve stepped into a dream, but you keep rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high. You’re heavy eyelids lift long enough to catch him staring up at you reverently, glasses askew and foggy, and that’s all it takes to send you spiralling over the edge. His unabashed worship for you, even now, made you clench around nothing as you came, the universe exploding into a million stars behind your eyes.
You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come back down, but by the time you do, Zayne has you in his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck. The sensitive spot just below his ear is where his scent is the strongest, and when your head feels like your own again, you shift to nuzzle your nose into it. When that’s not enough, you start to nip at his neck, placing gentle kisses between lips. You can hear him exhale through his nose, and you feel the way he stiffens beneath you, trying not to interfere with whatever you’re doing. But he’s just so sensitive, and the little “anh!” that escapes his lips at your ministrations sounds almost like a whine.
“Are-mnph-are you feeling-ah-better?” He stutters out, his whole body weak to your touch.
“Mhm,” you mumble out against his neck, still not quite sure what you’re doing.
All you know is that he smells intoxicating, and you need more of him. You want to feel every inch of his skin against yours, want to cut him open and crawl inside of his skin so you can feel him everywhere. It makes you sick just how badly you yearn for him at this moment, and you bite down a little harder at the soft flesh of Zayne’s neck, grinning against his skin when his hips buck up against you.
“Mine.” You declare, before you can stop it.
It feels so natural, to call him yours. Almost like it’s always been that way. It twists your gut in a way you don’t understand, so you don’t try to. Instead, you lean back, taking in Zayne under you.
He’s flushed, a pretty red that spreads all the way from his cheeks down his neck, and he looks like your wettest dreams. He’s gnawing at his lip as he looks up at you so prettily, and your eyes flick down to them - a question. As you lean in, you give him enough time to back out, but he sinks into you instead, meeting your lips halfway. It’s a juxtaposition to the filthiness that went on earlier, the way he kisses you like you’re something delicate. You can still taste the hints of yourself on his tongue, and it makes you melt against him, fingers tangling into the short hair at the back of his neck. The moment shifts, and everything starts to feel more intimate. With the worst of the pain gone, you realize this is Zayne, your Zayne, the one who made you little snow seals when the seals at the aquarium made you feel bad. The one who texts you to make sure you’ve eaten lunch, and to make sure you’re not overworking yourself (to which you usually respond “hypocrite”, which shuts him up awful fast). You’re overwhelmed with something akin to embarrassment, and you pull away.
“Are you okay, darling?” He searches your face, concern written all over his expression. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
You hum, a noncommittal thing, still too embarrassed to properly look him in the eyes. He huffs, and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, dragging you so close that your forehead knocks against his.
“Talk to me.”
It’s not a question, this time. It’s a command, and heat sparks in your stomach anew.
“I just…’m sorry I dragged you into whatever this is,” you say, unsure of yourself.
“I know this is probably just work to you, but-”
“It’s never just work with you.”
He says it with such sincerity you can’t help but lean in to kiss him again, short and chaste. You hope he can feel your love in every move you make against him, that this means something more than just sex to you.
And then it hits again - that twisting heat in your abdomen, like a punch to your stomach. It’s less bad, now that you’re pressed against Zayne, but it still makes you hiss, hand moving to put pressure on your stomach. He moves to pull you closer, looking down at your shaking frame.
“Anything you need, darling. Anything.”
So you beg. You plead until all that’s left of your voice is wispy breaths. You’re not even quite sure what you’re saying anymore, overwhelmed by the raw need to feel him fill you up, to have him carve the shape of himself into you. Your lips find his neck again, and your hands fumble for his belt, buried under the thick weight of his lab coat. His thighs twitch underneath you, and you shift just enough to yank his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, enough for his cock to spring out of its confines. It smacks heavily against his black button-up, and god, is it glorious.
He’s impressive in length and in girth, the kind of thickness that would just split you apart if you weren’t already dripping for him. A lone blue vein runs up the underside of his cock, prominent and glistening with his own precum.You can feel your mouth watering at the idea of tracing it with your tongue. But when you go to slide off of Zayne to do so, his fingers find purchase on your hips, dragging your dripping heat to rest just over his leaking cock. You both groan at the contact, and you can’t help but press down into him, catching your clit right on the throbbing head of his dick. Heat overtakes your body, and your hips can’t help themselves as they began to rut down into him, your body begging you for more.
“I-fuck-I need t’feel you, need it, alpha,” you pant out, already forgetting your desire to taste him.
His eyes roll back in his head, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, hard enough to bruise. Something inside of you purrs at the idea of him marking you up with the kind of bruises that leave no doubts about what happened tonight.
“Darling I-hngh!-can’t hold b-back anymore,” Zayne starts, heaving as your hips refuse to slow down, “I have to have you. Can I? Please, can I have you?”
You can barely nod before an obscene rip echoes in the room. Between Zayne’s fingers is the tattered remains of your underwear, a lewd string of slick connecting it to your entrance still. You watch in awe as he presses the ripped fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. His tongue darts out, and a groan rumbles out of his chest when he gets another taste of your slick, his dick twitching pathetically against your now bare entrance.
And when his tip just barely catches against your entrance? It’s over, his cock already spurting hot cum against you, coating his abdomen.
“W-what a waste, darling,” he murmurs, muffled by the underwear still pressed to his face. “Should-hah-should’ve been i-inside.”
And his free hand moves from its place on your hip down to his release, scooping up some of the sticky mess onto his fingers. Before you have a chance to question him, he’s pressing his fingers to your entrance, forcing his cum inside of you. The feeling of his thick fingers stretching your entrance has your head falling back and your mouth falling open in a silent scream. His fingers reach so deep, and you wonder, briefly, if you’ll even be able to take his cock. They escape your entrance once again, just to messily smear more cum into your hole, mean and unforgiving.
If you weren’t so lost in your own pleasure, you’d be able to see how Zayne couldn’t look away from your entrance, now dripping with a mix of your slick and his release. He was hypnotized by the way you can’t help but grind down on his fingers, begging for more of him. He curls them just right, and his breath catches in his throat when you fall forward into him, moaning out his name. No pleas, no “alpha!”, just Zayne.
A sick, twisted part of him hopes it takes. He can already see it - how beautiful you’d be all round and heavy with his pups - and it makes him burlly another finger into your entrance, trying to dig his cum deeper into you. All he can think about is you, his sweet little darling, all powerful and strong, reduced to his little housewife.
“Can’t take it anymore,” you whine, snapping him out of his perverted daydream. “Want your knot, want to feel you fill me up, please.”
And something mean twists in Zayne’s gut, something sharp twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at you. He slips the tattered underwear into the pocket of his lab coat, and his now freed hand moves to tilt your head to look at him.
“Are you sure, darling? I’m not sure I believe you,” he responds, eyes glowing with mirth, “Beg for it.”
What a cruel alpha he is, making a heat-riddled omega beg for his cock. But the idea of him not filling you up sends you into a frenzy, frantic pleas falling from your mouth as you squeeze around his fingers pathetically.
“No, no! Need it, promise I do. C-can’t you feel how-ahn!-wet I am? Please, ‘m drippin’ for you, need to feel your cock fill me up, need you to mark me as yours-uhn! I’m yours, aren’t I, Zayne?”
At the sound of his name, so sweet falling from your lips, Zayne rips his fingers from your entrance, fumbling to grasp at the base of his aching dick. It’s flushed red and he’s not sure how long he’s going to last inside of you when you’re looking at him like that. Like he’s the only thing left in the world, like you love him.
But neither of you can even think once his cock slides into your entrance. No amount of fingering could have prepared you for just how thick he truly was, and tears bead at the corners of your eyes at the stretch. And it just keeps going, keeps sinking into your heat until you feel him all the way in your stomach. His tip is kissing your cervix so sloppily, and it makes your walls clench around him.
And suddenly you’re in the air. You’re dizzy and disoriented as you move, his dick sliding impossibly deeper in a way that has your legs locking behind his back, keeping him there. His teeth dig into your shoulder at that, trying to keep his sounds down, but it’s impossible when you just feel so good.
With one hand, Zayne balances you against his body, and with the other, he sweeps the papers and trinkets off of his desk, not caring where they end up. He cradles your head as he drops your back to meet the cold surface of his desk, always worried about your safety, even when he’s balls deep in you. It makes your heart squeeze in your chest, an unfamiliar warmth flooding your body.
You don’t have much time to think, though, before he’s pulling his hips back until only his tip is still inside you. He stays there for a moment, loving the way you pulse around his sensitive head, before his self-control fully snaps, and he’s bucking into you wildly. The desk creaks under you, shifting under the raw power of Zayne’s thrusts, until you hear it roughly thunk against the wall.
You’re certain the whole wing can hear you two, bodies sliding and humping at each other like animals, but you don’t care, not when his cock is slamming into that spot that makes you see stars. Your body surrenders to the heat overtaking it, surrenders to him, and you’re limp in his hold, forced to take until your body is satisfied.
“Z-Zayne, mark, pl-uhn-please?” You beg between moans.
And this isn’t really consent, not when you’re so deep in an unfamiliar heat, and the back of Zayne’s mind is screaming at him to stop, don’t give in. But when your head falls to the side, baring your neck to him so submissively, how was he ever supposed to resist?
His canines sink into the delicate flesh of your skin, right in the juncture where your scent gland rests, and it’s like fireworks explode behind your eyes. It feels like your souls are intertwining, a metaphysical connection that fills your entire being with the warmth of a thousand suns. Your body convulses under him, but that just makes him dig his teeth into your skin harder, the metallic taste of your blood filling his mouth. Only when your convulsing turns into weak twitching does Zayne’s jaw unlock. He presses gentle kisses into your shoulder, licking at the blood dripping from his mark, unable to stop his hips from still bucking into your sensitive body.
“You’re mine, mine, you hear me?” He babbles, not even realizing he’s saying anything at all.
“My omega, my perfect little darling, a-aren’t you? Fuck, ‘m gonna fill you up so good, make you-mhm-round with my pups, make you a pretty momma, knot you again and again and again until i-it takes. Do you-hah-want that, darling? Want to be my perfect little wife?”
Your head is filled with cotton and your limbs don’t feel like they’re even yours anymore, but you blink your weary eyes up at Zayne. His silhouette is blurry from the tears you can’t seem to control, but even blurred he’s still a sight to behold.
His glasses are barely still on his face, askew and only really still hooked on one of his ears. He’s still almost fully dressed, but his collar is mussed, and his pants and boxers have made their way around his ankles. His belt, still looped through his pants, clanks against the floor with every harsh thrust of Zayne’s hips, mixing into the symphony of moans and squelches filling his office.
It’s obscene and sloppy, everything is dishevelled in a way that is so markedly not Zayne, but it makes you clench around him nonetheless. Only you get to see him like this, make him like this. It sends a thrill down your spine, and a rush of heat floods your abdomen, your walls fluttering around Zayne’s girth.
“Darling, darling, feel so good for me, are you going to let go? Let go, let me feel you cum around me.” Zayne coos, looking down at you adoringly.
You frantically shake your head. You’re close, unbearably so, but you want-need Zayne to come undone with you. So you lift your feeble hands to grip at the hair at the back of Zayne’s neck and to pull his collar to the side. With the last of your strength, you yank him down to you, right into your eager mouth. He gasps as your teeth sink into his scent gland, and that’s all it takes - the base of his cock swells, and you can feel his knot start to take. The pathetic whimper that escapes Zayne’s mouth as your teeth sink deeper into his skin is enough to tip you off the edge, and you cum hard, biting into Zayne’s neck in a weak attempt to muffle your noises. It doesn’t matter anymore, really - the slam of the desk against the wall and the wailing you did earlier was certainly enough to tip anyone off to what was happening in here. But as you start to come back down to Earth, a wave of embarrassment overcomes you. This was your best friend. You just had sex - you just mated - your best friend, and an embarrassing part of you doesn’t even care. You’ve just claimed and marked the illustrious Doctor Zayne as yours, and he’s going to have to walk around the hospital after this, smelling like you and wearing your mark on his gland.
“It’s going to be a while before my knot goes down.” Zayne says, his voice still strained but mostly back to his normal matter-of-fact tone.
His knot. It all floods back to you - how you pleaded for his knot, how you begged him to mark you - and you fluster under his watchful eye.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter, still unable to really even look at him, “I shouldn’t have forced you to do this, to…to mark me.”
You say it with so much contempt that it makes the ever-stoic Zayne frown, concern written in the creasing of his eyebrows. The hand thumbing at your hip moves to cradle your face, and he leans closer to you, wincing at the way his sensitive cock shifts inside of your gummy walls.
“Do you…” he ponders for a moment, “Do you regret it?”
He looks at you, searching your eyes for even a hint of anger at him, but all he finds is guilt. Like somehow you were at fault for all of the sick things Zayne did to you when you didn’t know what was happening to you. It makes something in his stomach flip, sadistic and cruel. You were so sweet, thinking that any of this was somehow your fault, and it makes him want to bite into your scent gland all over again. It was likely that the effect of whatever hit you would soon fade, but a little voice in the back of his head hopes that the mark he left doesn’t fade with it. That when you have to go back to work, all of the people that so much as glance at you can tell that you’re his, that you’re off-limits forever. In every lifetime, he’s given himself up to get even a taste of your love, and a certainty settles into his gut that he’ll never be able to let you go again, not after he’s had you.
“Do…do you regret it?” You ask, still carrying that heavy guilt in your eyes.
“Of course not,” Zayne responds, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I could never regret anything if it’s with you.”
– – –
ehehe thank you for reading!!! I don't have a sylus part planned, buuuut if anybody wants it please let me know! I just unlocked him and I wouldn't be opposed...
(also if you have other ideas for LADS send them in! I am so feral about them right now I will write just about anything)
#LADsMultiBoycott: Enough Is Enough – It’s Time to Stand Together
“We don’t hate the game—we love it enough to want better.”
Over the past few weeks, the community has been buzzing over translated leaks and rumors surfacing on Xiaohongshu (小红书) and Twitter that point to a disturbing trend in Love and Deepspace (LADs). The upcoming multi-banner—whether it turns out to be the anticipated Spring or Wedding multi—will once again feature long hairstyles separated from their outfits. Yes, again. After all the outcry. After all the feedback. We're here once more.
Let me be blunt: we can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep hoping CN girlies will save us every time. We can’t keep spending in good faith when Infold continues to exploit our loyalty and silence our voices. We can’t keep pretending that fan art and cute trailers make up for broken promises and paywalled aesthetics.
It’s time for us to join together, across servers, communities, and fandoms. It's not about Sylus mains vs Caleb mains vs the OG3. We're all getting burned by the same fire.
💥 What We Know From the Leaks
According to reliable sources:
The upcoming banner after Sylus’s Birthday Event might be another multi-banner format, either Spring or Wedding.
Long hairstyles will be separated from the outfits and placed in a separate crate—again.
This structure mirrors gacha mechanics where full outfits demand 140+ pulls, stretching across 5-star parts like socks, pants, accessories, and hair.
These decisions appear to be influenced by monetization models similar to Infinity Nikki, prioritizing profit over playability or fairness.
📢 So What Are We Doing About It?
We are organizing under #LADsMultiBoycott to push back against these predatory changes. This isn’t just a tantrum. It’s a coordinated protest.
🔥 Our Demands:
Six-month roadmaps to ensure transparency and accountability.
Higher resource drops from the highest-tier Bounty/Core Hunt.
Stop separating hairstyles from outfits in banners.
New sources of diamond income (no more stagnant gem economy).
No spending for the first 3 days of the banner. Use only your saved-up diamonds.
File official complaints to show Infold that this matters.
Email:
Even if you have funds set aside, hold them. Don’t top up.
Don’t feed the system that’s disrespecting your playtime and wallet.
2. Delay Your Pulls
Do not pull in the first 3 days. Choose your LI in the pool, then log out. Let the data show decreased first-week participation.
3. Minimal Screen Time
Yes, log in for dailies, but keep your session short, especially for iOS users. Play Store and App Store algorithms track usage data. Reduced screen time:
Hurts engagement metrics.
Lowers game ranking.
Cuts ad revenue.
4. No Banner Fanart for First Few Days
As painful as it is to hide our beautiful boys, let’s not unintentionally trigger FOMO. Fanart drives hype—hold off until after the peak revenue period.
5. Only Use Android if Possible
App Store rankings are disproportionately influenced by iOS user engagement. Reducing iOS traffic matters more than you think.
🌎 A Global Movement: We’re Not Alone
Our fellow players in China have already shaken Infold’s confidence.
CN revenue dropped by 42.2% from Nov 2024 to March 2025 (from $100M to $57.8M).
Global rankings dropped, while games like Genshin and Wuthering Waves soared.
Their success in the "stop-spending-money" campaign proved one thing: boycotts work.
If they can do it, so can we.
✊ This Is About More Than Just One Banner
Infold believes that as long as they release a sexy card, we’ll cave. They believe we don’t talk to each other. That we’re divided by LI bias and language barriers. But what they don’t see is how deeply connected we’ve become as a fandom.
We aren’t asking for perfection. We’re asking for respect.
If we let this multi go unchallenged, it sets a dangerous precedent:
Separated hairstyles in multi-banners like this become normalized.
Resources remain stagnant.
Paywalls keep climbing.
F2P and low-spenders are permanently excluded.
💡 Why Minimal Playtime Matters
Some of you might be thinking, “But this won’t work?” And here’s why it will:
“Why Cutting Screen Time Works” – The Breakdown
Engagement metrics tank. App Store/Play Store ranks games by DAU, session length, etc.
Revenue drops. Less screen time = fewer ad views = less money.
Rankings slide. Visibility goes down, leading to even fewer players.
It sends a message. A sharp drop in playtime can’t be ignored by business analysts.
💬 “But What If Infold Cancels the Game?”
They won’t. That’s just fear-mongering.
If a company is willing to kill its own cash cow just because fans want better—then it was never worth our support to begin with. But more importantly: they won’t kill it. They’ve seen that the game can pull millions. They’ll just need to earn it now.
🧱 We’re Building Something Bigger
This isn’t just about LADs. It’s about every gacha game that’s begun preying on its fans. If we roll over here, what message are we sending to WuWa, HSR, ZZZ, GI, and the rest?
We all have that one game we ride or die for. But loving a game doesn’t mean blind loyalty. Criticism is love in action.
🧩 TL;DR: How You Can Help
❌ Don’t spend money on the next multi-banner
🕒 Log in for dailies only, pick your LI, then log off
I urge everyone reading this to reblog to spread the word! Maybe we'll finally be able to come together on this and send Paperfold the clear message needed in order to stop their rampant greed and mistreatment of their consumers, as well as their characters. Enough is enough.
Hiiii! Love your writing 😘😘 wondering if you wanted to write about mammon and a little pet play with a gentle soft Dom!AFAB Mc (or GN). Have a nice day!!!
It's Always Sunny With You (NSFW)
Summary: Mammon always takes his brothers’ harsh words head on - he doesn’t care what they have to say about him! But after overhearing his brothers talking behind his back, Mammon isn’t sure how much more he can take. Sometimes, your little puppy needs to be reminded how much you love him (and just how good he is).
Warnings: sub!mammon, dom!reader, hurt/comfort, starts out angsty with a capital A, swearing, pet play, reader calls mammon “puppy” and “pup”, mammon calls reader “master”, body worship, so so much praise
Let me know if you think I missed anything!
All characters are over 18 :)
– – –
Oh Mammon my sweet sweet boy :( So excited to be writing for him! He deserves all the love in the world, and sometimes he seems to forget that. Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy! Sorry that there’s so much exposition, I can’t help myself sometimes…
– – –
Mammon put up with a lot.
This much was clear - as one of the seven rulers of hell, the second oldest at that, he had a lot on his plate. No matter how idiotic, or greedy, or in his own world he acts, he does really love his brothers (don’t you go telling any of them, now!).
Which made what was happening right now hurt so much more.
He knows he isn’t the world’s best older brother - hell, he could be a pretty terrible one at that - and the way he acted 99.9% of the time reflected that. Like all the times he’s pawned off some ridiculous anime figure of Levi’s (why have it if you’re just going to keep it in the box, huh?), or one of Satan’s first edition books, or one of Lucifer’s cursed records, or-… you get the point. He certainly has a greedy streak, but he can’t help it, okay? That’s his whole shtick, for crying out loud! Sure, he tends to gamble all the money he earned from pawning their stuff, but so what if he did? He always wins it all back eventually, anyhow. Especially if he has you - his lucky treasure - at the tables with him. He swears he always wins when you’re there to cheer him on.
But you weren’t here now, were you?
No one in this family had any idea of how to have a quiet conversation; Lucifer had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny anyways, so what was the point? It’s impossible to keep a secret in this house, so there really wasn’t any point in trying.
“-he doesn’t even treat them right, have you seen how unhappy they are when they’re with him?”
“And he’s so annoying, too. They don’t want to spend every breathing second with you, y’know?”
Immediately, tears blur his vision, and he picks up his pace. Stupid Satan and stupid Leviathan and stupid stupid Mammon. Do ya even love him? He wondered, fumbling his way into his room. Was he really just as bad as they were sayin’? He curled himself up on his bed, wrapped tight in the sheets, and sobbed quietly into his pillows. He knows he doesn’t deserve you - beautiful, kind, sweet, perfect you - it was inevitable that he would lose you. He never could hold on to treasure very long, anyways, how was he going to manage to keep one as precious as you? Who would want to stay with a greedy, annoying, clingy, disaster like him anyways? You were his everything, the reason the sun rose, the air he breathes, his most valued treasure. But you had so many people around you who loved you, who could love you better than him. Hell, you have the whole Devildom wrapped around your little human finger. Not to mention the angels who flock to you like you’re their reverie, and the shady sorcerer who insisted on taking you as his apprentice. All the powerful forces of the three Realms would come to your beck and call, so why would you want to have anything to do with someone like him?
Stupid, idiot Mammon. No one could ever love someone like you, anyways.
– – –
You sighed, trying your best to discreetly glance around the table. The brothers were rowdy as always, but one voice was missing - the voice of your boyfriend. While Mammon wasn’t always the most punctual, Beel had almost obliterated all the food already, and he hadn’t even come down yet to “grace the table with the Great Mammon’s presence”. Thinking of him made you smile at your food, but your smile didn’t last for long.
He’s never this late to dinner… you chewed the inside of your cheek, worried. I wonder if he’s okay?
“-MC, are you listening to me?”
You snap your head up from your plate, Lucifer’s piercing eyes staring you down. You flush, embarrassed, and scramble to respond.
“Y-yeah, yeah of course Lucifer! Just thinking about how dinner is so good, who made it tonight, haha? My compliments to the chef, they did a-”
“You’ve said enough. I could tell you weren’t present with us, anyways.” He glances at Mammon’s empty seat, and turns his eyes back to you. “It’s pretty obvious why.”
“Yuck, you guys are so gross!” Levi shouts, sticking his tongue out. “You know that’s normie behavior, right, MC? It’s so gross how you’re ‘in love’, or whatever-”
Lucifer rolls his eyes, ignoring Leviathan’s ranting. “Go check on him.”
You perk up, looking at him, surprised. “Really? Okay!”
Without as much as a second thought (much to the chagrin of the six brothers who were present at dinner) you throw together a plate of food and rush off to Mammon’s room. You wondered if he was sick (do demons get sick?), or maybe if he fell asleep - you knew he tended to stay out late, even on school nights. That can’t be right, you thought with a frown. He was with me last night.
Lost in your thoughts, you almost walk past his door. Double-taking, you take a few steps back and rap your knuckles on his door, to no response.
“Mammon?” Nothing.
“Hey Mammon, it’s MC! I brought you dinner, if you’d like it!”
Still nothing.
“Mammon, are you in there…?”
A muffled “Go ‘way!” rings out, and you drop your hand that had been knocking to your side.
“At least come get your dinner, you didn’t eat!”
“‘m not hungry.”
You twist the handle, noticing he didn’t lock the door. “Alright, I’m coming in there-”
“No!” you get the door about halfway open before a force is pushing it back closed. You throw your foot in the doorframe, wincing as the door tries to slam closed through your foot. Taking a peek in, you notice the room is dark. You can make out the outline of a blanket, strewn on the floor (presumably in Mammon’s hurry to close the door on you), and about nothing else.
You push against the door, adamant this time. “Mammon, please, if you don’t want to talk to me about whatever happened yet, that’s fine, but please, at least take the food-”
The door opens just wide enough for Mammon to snatch the plate out of your hands. You don’t even see him, really - just the blur of his arm reaching around the door, and the feeling of the door once again trying to close through your foot.
“I took the food, ya can go now-”
“Did I do something wrong?” He falls silent at your words, and you go on. “I’m sorry if I did, but please, let me make up whatever I did wrong-”
You thought that you had done something wrong? Mammon’s dumbstruck - you were perfect, you were you, why would you ever think you were the one in the wrong? Wasn’t it obvious that this was all his fault?
“...Mammon?” you sigh. “I- if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, I’m sorry I came to bother you, you clearly don’t want me to be here.”
He can hear your frown through the door, the tears that are probably hanging at your waterline, the dejected tone in your voice. Without thinking, he haphazardly sets the plate of food down, Diavolo knows where, and throws the door open just as you’re pulling your foot out of the frame. You blink up at him, surprised, and he immediately shrinks in on himself. He knows he’s a mess right now - ruffled hair, puffy eyes, wrinkled clothes - but he also knows that he can’t have you thinking you did something wrong. He may be a terrible boyfriend according to his brothers, but he won’t be that terrible of a boyfriend.
“Oh, honey,” you say, voice as soft as velvet, taking a few steps toward him. “Are you okay?”
And you watch as he just crumples, tears flowing openly again. He’s desperately sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, trying to get them to stop, but now that the floodgates have been opened, he can’t control them anymore.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I’m the great Mammon, after all!” he responds shakily, trying his best (and failing) to hold in his tears. “Nothing shakes me, ya know that, treasure.”
You frown at him, worry written all over your face. You gently push your way into his room, and he lets you, looking everywhere but your face as you gently close the door behind you. The gentle click of the lock catches his ear, but he’s more focused on you. He winces as you click the light on, too, and hopes you don’t mind how he looks right now. He can feel your gaze on him, all of him, tearing apart whatever walls he was feebly trying to keep up. You always knew what was up, even when he wouldn’t say it. It was one of the things he loved so much about you - he didn’t have to be good with words, because you already know what he’s going to say.
He jumps slightly as your hands reach for his face, directing it at yours. His eyes still won’t meet yours, and you sigh.
“What’ll it take for my handsome boyfriend to look me in the eye, huh?” you croon sweetly. He can see the pout forming on your lips and the glint behind your eyes without even having to look. And he’s sure that you can feel the flush of his skin under your hands as blood rushes straight to his cheeks. It didn’t take much for you to fluster him, even now.
“Mammon.”
“...MC,” he conceded, allowing himself a peek at you.
That was his first mistake. You were looking at him with such admiration, as if he had hung the moon and all the stars in the sky, and he didn’t know how to handle it. Why did you love him?
“Why do I love you? Why wouldn’t I love you?” You could tell he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but you pushed on before he could get a word in. “You’re kind, and you’re so sweet to me, and you care about your family above anything else, and-”
“That’s not true,” he murmurs, watery eyes looking away from yours once again. “They think I’m mean, and annoying, and that I’m making you unhappy-”
“Oh, baby,” you coo, thumbing gently at his cheek. “Do I need to remind you just how perfect you are for me? My perfect boy.”
He flushes, stammering as you lead him back to his bed. There’s a noticeable dent from where he laid, unmoving, earlier, but you ignore it. Instead, you gently guide him to lay down on his back, and sit to straddle his hips.
“I don’t know what’s got you all in your head,” you say, leaning down to hover your mouth just above his. “But I’m going to remind you just how good you are, okay?”
Before he can stammer out an “okay” of his own, your lips are crashing against his. There’s a sort of desperation behind your movements, and it has blood rushing down to his cock prematurely. He can’t help it, not when you’re straddling his hips and kissing him like your life depends on it. His hips buck when your tongue pushes into his mouth, and his shaky hands move to grasp at any part of you he can grab. They land on the plush of your hips, trying to guide you to grind down onto his already aching cock. You pull away at this, and he whines, a genuine sort of hurt hiding in the depths of his eyes.
“Baby, baby, look at me,” you murmur, cupping his cheek. “This is about you but that doesn’t mean you can break the rules. We go at my pace, okay?”
“S-sorry,” he hiccups, tears filling his waterline. “Sorry, I’ll be good for you, I’m sorry, I’ll be a good puppy, so please, don’t hate me!”
“Hate you? Honey, why would I hate you?”
You’re appalled that he would even think so lowly of you. Hate him? He didn’t show up to one dinner and you had about lost your mind! He had always been the sun - so bright and beautiful and charming - and you had just been lucky enough to have been pulled into his orbit. You didn’t hate him - hell, you revered him.
“T-that’s what they-hic-were sayin’,” he sobbed, the tears now at full force, “That I make you unhappy and that I don’t treat you right and and and-”
You interrupt again before he can spiral any further, squishing his cheeks between your fingers in an attempt to get him to slow down.
“But did I say that baby? Did I tell you any of those things?”
He shakes his head gently, but the babbling doesn’t stop. He’s refusing to make eye contact again, and you frown, mad at yourself for not seeing the problem sooner. He had no reason to be insecure, he was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were just going to have to remind him of that.
“Silly Mammon,” you say, leaning down to leave a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Does my little puppy need another reminder of just how much I love him?”
His head bobbles in a frantic yes, eyes finally finding yours again. There’s something feral sparkling in your eyes, but before he can comprehend it you’re slamming your lips back on his, your hands running down his pants to paw at his bulge. You toy with his belt a bit and he whines into your mouth, hips shifting under you in an attempt to get you to hurry up.
You pull away, thumbing gently at his cheek. “Use your words, puppy. What do you need?”
“W-whatever you want,” he pants, his glazed over eyes struggling to meet yours. “Anything you want, please, wan’ you!”
You try to remain composed, but you can’t help the desperate shake of your hands as you fumble with his belt. You slip off of his lap, tapping his hip gently with your pointer finger as you shift off him. He lifts them for you without a word, eyes watching intently as you guide his pants and underwear off in one swift motion. You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face when his cock slaps against his abdomen. His tip is an angry red, almost purple, and fat globs of pre-cum run down the side of his cock.
“Aw, puppy, you’re already soaking for me, aren’t you? Sweet thing,” you coo, eyes never leaving his cock. “I’m going to ruin you.”
He doesn’t get more warning than that before you’re swooping down, tongue running up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. Your hands find his inner thighs and they twitch under your touch, trying to close around you as you slide between them. His hands scramble for purchase in the sheets as your head bobs down his length, taking him into your mouth. Another spurt of pre-cum dribbles out of his cock, and you suck it up, greedy, intent on making him fall apart under you.
“M-MC,” he stutters out between moans. “Master, please, I c-can’t take it! F-feels sho guh-good!”
You hum around him, sending vibrations coursing through him. One glance up at him and you know he’s already gone - eyes teary and glazed, hair messy, and one of his hands frantically fumbling to play with his nipple. You swirl your tongue around his leaking head and give one final bob downwards before he loses control of his hips and bucks into your mouth, painting your throat white with cum. You nurse him gently through it, suckling until his hips twitch with overstimulation. Pulling off him with a pop!, you give Mammon a lazy grin, rubbing gentle circles into his thigh with your thumb.
“Feeling better, puppy?” You murmur, kissing your way up to his mouth until you’re eye to eye, once again straddling the meat of his thighs.
He nods, and you frown down at him, unimpressed.
“Words, pup.”
“Yeah,” he says, dazed. “T-thank you, master, made me feel so good.”
“Good puppy,” you murmur, pecking his cheek. “Because I’m not done with you.”
He blinks up at you in surprise, and you spit on your hand, grasping at his softening cock. He winces at the contact on his sensitive cock, hands weakly moving to stop you. You grab at his wrist, giving him a warning look.
“You were doing so perfect for me, pup, what happened?” You pout down at him, giving his cock a warning squeeze. “My pretty puppy, do you think you can give me one more? Just one more, I know you can be good, hm?”
“Y-yeah, yeah, I can be g-good, hnn! So good, master, the goodest!”
He drops his hands back to his side, letting you have your way with him. Despite his earlier protests, he hardens quickly at your ministrations, tip already leaking at your touch. You lean down and press a gentle kiss to his mouth, eating up the little whimpers slipping from his maw. Once he’s sufficiently leaking all over your hand, you shift your weight, tapping his cheek to get his attention.
“Ready, puppy?”
He blinks up at you in confusion, mouth opening to question you, but you line his cock up with your entrance and slide down, and his mouth forms a little oh instead. You flinch at the stretch, but any sort of pain quickly blurs into pleasure as you guide his tip to kiss that gooey spot inside of you. Your eyes want to flutter shut but you refuse to let them, instead basking in the drunken look on Mammon’s face. He’s clearly edging on the border of painful overstimulation and thoughtless pleasure, and when you clench around him just right, there might just be hearts in his eyes.
“F-fuck, puppy, stretching me so good, aren’t you? Can feel you-unh!-all the way u-up here, baby.”
Your hand moves to your lower abdomen, eyes mean as you tap right where you feel him. He watches you with utter reverence, unable to look away as your pace picks up, hips rolling in a steady pattern.
“So wet, aren’t you, puppy?” you pant, tightening your jaw to keep the moans from spilling out. “Absolutely gushing for me, gonna squirt for me like a girl?”
He opens his mouth to respond, and you slap a hand over his mouth. “Puppies don’t talk, remember? Or did I already fuck my puppy dumb?”
Your condescending tone has his eyes rolling back and his tongue lolling out, and you catch it, rolling it between your thumb and your forefinger. He’s drooling everywhere, little unh unh unh!s and masther!s slipping from his mouth. You tug on his tongue a bit, and you look him right in the eye as you spit into his mouth and let him choke on it a bit. When his eyes start to roll again, you let go, and watch him greedily swallow the mix of your spits.
“Say thank you, puppy.”
“W-woof!” he responds, and you give him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss in return.
“Good boy, remembering my rules. How about you play with your pretty nipples as a reward, hm? And then maybe I’ll think about letting you cum.”
His head bobbles as he nods, hands messily sliding up to toy with his nipples. He rolls them between his fingers, tugging, and you see his abdomen tense as he holds back from bucking up into your soft, wet heat.
You’re not doing much better, and when his tip kisses that sweet spot inside you again, you feel yourself start to unwind. You lose your pace, desperately chasing your high as your insides spasm around him.
“C-come undone with me puppy, c’mon, won’t you-ahn!-be good for me? My best boy. You c-can cum, fuck fuck fuck! Cum.”
At your command, he lets go, filling your insides with his warm cum. You shake around him, prying your heavy eyes open to look at the blissed out expression on his face. His cheeks are streaked with dried tears and drool, and the most delicious flush spreads all the way down his chest. You run a hand through his matted hair as he comes down from his second orgasm of the night, extremely pleased with how he wearily blinks at you, eyes unfocused.
You wince as you pull off of him, and his cum weakly dribbles out of your entrance. You roll over to lay next to him, making sure to slip your hand into his.
You’re both absolutely disgusting - smelling of sex and covered in the evidence - but you bring his hand to your face anyways, gently kissing his knuckles.
“You know I love you more than anything, right?” You say, almost so quietly he misses it, “I hate that even for a second you doubted that.”
He tries to stop the feeling bubbling to his chest, but it’s hard to ignore when you nuzzle your face into his neck. He’s never really had the luxury to love like this, since he’s fallen to the Devildom, and it fills him with an inexplicable warmth. He rolls to face you, and he stiffens as your eyes find his.
“‘m sorry I made you worry,” he says, slinging an arm over you and pulling you closer. “I just…I’m not the best person, y’know? So I figured you finally saw that.”
You nip at the juncture when his neck meets his shoulder and he yelps.
“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that. He’s the kindest, most loving, most exciting person to be around, and I’m the one who’s lucky to have him.”
The fierceness in your gaze catches him by surprise - why would you care so much? Sure, he’s the Great Mammon, but under all of his pizazz, he was just a boring, regular demon. Lucifer is influential, Leviathan is passionate, Satan is smart, Asmo is beautiful, Beel is strong, and Belphie (despite his brat behavior) is soft and sweet. But he didn’t bring anything to the table, not like they did.
“Stop that,” you say, louder this time.
“Get out of your head and look at me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You’re not annoying, and your brothers don’t know how much you do for them when they’re not looking. You’re an amazing brother, and the perfect partner. I love you, okay? I love you so much, my Mammon.”
“I love ya too, MC. Thank you for remindin’ me,” he huffs out, embarrassed at the tears springing to his eyes again.
He sniffles, hiding his head into your hair and pulling you closer. You hold him just as tight, and he drifts off in your arms, the tension of the day slipping away in your embrace.
– – –
“Do you think Mammon is okay?”
Lucifer glances up from his place at his desk, glasses crooked and face a little flushed. He tries his best to subtly adjust himself, and rubs at his temples, exasperated. Sometimes, being aware of everything happening in the house was more of a curse than a blessing. Your voice as you cooed at his brother was going to stick with him for eons to come.
“I can assure you, Leviathan, he is more than okay.”
Thank you to @glassofapplejuicee for beta reading saving this work! Love you so much babes, don't know what I would do without you <3
Happy Merry Boxing Day, everyone! I’ve been a little quiet as of late (oops), but I figured a fluffy little set of headcanons about our favorite boys would get me writing again. Lo and behold, it totally worked - so Happy Holidays everyone, and enjoy!
Summary: You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way?
Warnings: light swearing, petnames (Gojo is a menace, Nanami calls you darling, Sukuna calls you brat, Toji calls you doll, Shoko calls you lovely), minor injuries in Toji’s
Features Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Fushiguro (Toji), Ieiri, Higuruma
Let me know if you think I missed anything!!
All characters are over 18 :)
– – –
Gojo Satoru
If anyone is over the top, it’s Gojo. Definitely takes Christmas decorations too far, and is not past putting vulgar things on the tree. Tried to decorate it with Polaroids of you in…compromising positions, much to your chagrin. You shut that one down pretty quickly.
One of those rich assholes who hires people to put up/take down the lights outside. Before you, he definitely had only the boring white lights and maybe one of those sad wire light-up reindeers (like this, for example). Just one of them, all alone - he thinks it’s symbolic and deep because he was all alone at the time but it really just makes his huge yard look extra empty.
With you, however, he wants to do it himself. He thinks there’s something magical about putting up decorations together, with people you love.
(It’s sweet, really, until he sucks at it and cries because he has no actual idea how to do it - why is it so hard to hang the lights straight?? Or at all, for that matter?? You’ll probably end up having to do all the work)
Once Christmas comes and goes, he does NOT want to take stuff down. You put it up “together” (you put it up), he wants to leave it up forever! A memory of the Christmas you spent together.
Plus, his big house feels a lot less empty with all the lights and garlands and various other decorations he spent too much money on. Please, let him leave it up?
You probably let him get away with leaving up the tree until the beginning of January. He, of course, bought a huge, very much real, tree. The needles are a mess, and when it reaches the point where there are barely any needles left on the tree, you put your foot down.
He’s whining the whole time you two are taking it down. He tries to sneak out and drag it back inside, but you catch him every time.
Don’t even get him started on taking down the lights…
– – –
“But baaaaaaaabe!!”
“Gojo Satoru.”
“Full government name? You wound me, baby! Just like you’re wounding our beautiful Christmas memories!”
You groan, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s whines. “Satoru, you’re the one who wanted a real tree. I told you it was too much responsibility and cleaning, but you-”
“Baby,” he said, eyes watery and lips pulled downward in a pout. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh? Just want to keep all of our Christmas memories safe, is all.”
You soften at this. Satoru didn’t really get a chance to celebrate Christmas often, before you. You know there’s no way in hell his family celebrated with him, and you’re sure that once he lost his best friend (on Christmas Eve, no less), he and Shoko didn’t truly celebrate again. This was the first real Christmas he’s had in a while.
“Toru,” you murmur, pulling him to you. “We have plenty of years in the future to make new Christmas memories, hm? We’ll get to put up Christmas decorations all over again.”
His eyes find yours, and you wonder briefly if the glow in his eyes is the lights he refuses to take down, or the jujutsu endlessly flowing through him.. There’s a hint of something melancholy hidden in them, mixed with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He doesn’t say anything, just looks, almost studying you - you’d be freaked out if you didn’t know him so well. Know that your words and your kindness were unfamiliar to him. In a world where he’s expected to be the strongest, he doesn’t know what to do when someone expects him to just be himself. You want every piece of him, the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and you try to convey that as much as you can with your eyes.
You let him stare until the silence becomes too thick, too heavy with something inexplicably sad that leaves a lump in your throat and a weight on your chest. You pull your hand away from his, running a gentle thumb over his cheek. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, as much as it hurts.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, with such finality that he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. It’s still full of grief, but there’s a glimmer of hope in it, too. “You know that Toru. I’m here. I’ll always be here, okay? Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.” he says, devoid of his usual humor. “You promise me?”
“I promise, Toru.” you say. You barely get it out before he’s smashing his lips to yours. It’s messy, it’s frantic, and it’s full of all the words he can’t say. He knows it’s selfish of him. To want you, to love you. His life is full of danger and death around every corner, and he knows that by bringing you into his life he’s brought you into that, too. But he can’t help himself. Gojo Satoru gets what he wants, he always has, and there’s nothing he wants more than you.
So he holds you close, and hopes that you keep wanting him forever, too.
Geto Suguru
He’s been going all out for Christmas since he found Nanako and Mimiko. It was clear that the two had never really had a proper family, and he wanted to give them that as much as he could.
He went all out when they were little - fake reindeer hoofprints in the yard, piles of presents under the tree, half eaten cookies left on the plate labelled “for Santa”. The girls are his whole world, and he’d pluck the moon from the sky if they asked him to.
The girls love you, too, once you become part of their Christmas traditions (even though Suguru made you tell them that Santa’s not real because he couldn’t do it himself). You’ve helped give them a family that they never had, and they welcome you with open arms.
Nanako and Mimiko become menaces when you even mention that it’s about time you all take the Christmas decorations down. They love the way the house feels brighter with all the decorations up. Expect a bit of a fight (and no help from your boyfriend, who seemingly can’t tell his girls “no”).
– – –
“Absolutely not.”
“You want to do what?!”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t your best idea to suggest taking down the tree, after all. You figured it’d be a good thing to do together - a touch of family time that you don’t always get with the girls - but they seemed to be appalled that you had even suggested such a thing.
“Nana, Mimi, it’s not Christmas anymore.” you say, laughing a bit nervously. “We can’t leave the tree up forever, can we?”
“We certainly can,” Nanako starts with a frown, “What’s stopping us? The pressure from society to conform to its trends?”
You barely manage to stop your eyes from rolling. You loved that Suguru was honest and open with the girls about what he does and who he is, but Nanako was definitely picking up some preconceived notions from hanging around Suguru’s literal cult all the time. Perhaps you’d have to talk to your boyfriend about it.
“Nana, sweetie, I love you-”
“Clearly you don’t if you won’t let me keep the tree up!”
“What’s going on in here?”
A smooth, deep voice cuts through your conversation (argument?) with Nanako and Mimiko, and you feel a wave of relief crash over you. Surely, your lovely boyfriend would talk some sense into the girls (primarily Nanako).
“Suguru! The girls and I were just discussing taking the Christmas decorations down.”
Oblivious to Nanako’s scowl, he smiles softly at you. “What a good idea! We can do it as a family, hm? I could use a family day after the meetings I just had.”
“We’re not taking it down,” Mimiko mutters, eyes flickering between you and Suguru. “It’s too early.”
“Yeah, it’s way too early! We need to leave them up waaaaay longer. We did so much work to put them up, we can’t just take them down now!” Nanako whines out, doing her best puppy dog eyes at her father.
“You two,” you sigh, massaging your brow. “We can do it all again next year, but we seriously need to start taking these down, it’s getting a little late to still have our decorations up-”
“We can leave them up.”
Your head snaps to look at your boyfriend, mouth agape. “What?”
“I mean…” he says, looking anywhere but your face. “They seem really excited about it, you know? It can’t hurt to keep them up a bit longer…”
You should’ve known he would succumb to their puppy dog eyes, the bastard. “Suguru Geto, it’s the middle of January. We absolutely cannot keep them up much longer, the neighbors are starting to give me weird looks-”
“Who cares what the neighbors think?” he says, pulling you towards the couch. “C’mon, how about family movie night instead? We can take the tree down another day, hm?”
You know you shouldn’t let the girls win this one. You know it, and yet you let yourself get led to the couch anyways. Some 1980’s chick flick is put on, and you all settle in, curled into each other. You think you catch Meg Ryan out of the corner of your eye, but you’re more busy looking at your family, all together at this moment.
The tree can stay up another day, you decide. You could handle a couple of judgy stares from the neighbors - because you wouldn’t trade moments like these for the world.
Nanami Kento
Nanami didn’t necessarily celebrate Christmas when he was on his own. It felt like a lot of work to put up a tree and decorate it if he was barely going to be home anyways.
After his return to jujutsu, Gojo tries endlessly to try and drag him to the yearly Christmas work party to no avail. Especially after you enter the picture. Gojo wants nothing more than to tell you embarrassing stories about your lover.
But now he has you, and the little pink-haired menace that is Itadori Yuuji. You two had inserted yourselves into his life when he thought he needed solitude the most, and he couldn’t be more grateful.
Christmas, which had once come and gone, became something tangible. It meant endless hours of baking and decorating cookies, and time spent together, as a family. Yuuji wasn’t technically his son, but he was certainly a part of your little family (the gifts under the tree for him spoke for themselves).
Like Gojo, he’s oddly hesitant to take down the decorations. The memories of putting them up and celebrating Christmas with the people he treasured around them are very dear to him.
Unlike Gojo, he can picture a future with you and Yuuji. Not quite on boxing day, but before December ends, the three of you are taking down decorations together, as a family, knowing that you’ll get the chance to put them up again next year.
– – –
Despite the date being not-quite-Christmas, you had insisted on playing Christmas music as you all took Christmas decorations down. Something about it being your “last chance to listen to Christmas music!” and you needing “one last dose” of Christmas before it was gone. And any level of time spent together with you and Nanami had Yuuji bouncing off the walls, so of course he was down for Christmas music after Christmas.
Despite his slight distaste for the music, Kento couldn’t help but smile at you and Yuuji. You’re rolling the lights neatly as Yuuji unwinds them, laughing and joking as you do. He remembers when you had asked Yuuji to come over to decorate for Christmas with the two of you. He had seen the boy excited before, but there was something special about the joy he radiated as he happily agreed to come over. You’d offered him the spare room many times, and even though he “can’t” stay, his clothes soon filled the drawers and his toiletries lived in your bathroom. While there’s not necessarily a “break” from the life of being a sorcerer, Fushiguro had gone home to Gojo’s, and Kugisaki had gone home to her family for the holidays. But, with nowhere to go, Yuuji had been planning to stay at the dorms, alone. Normally Nanami would’ve asked you first, but the second he heard he invited the boy to stay - lots of empty excuses about needing more company for Christmas and not wanting to eat all of the Christmas goods yourselves. But when Yuuji came bouncing in, you already knew, giving your husband a knowing smile.
Now he was certain the house was going to feel empty, once Yuuji was gone. Ever respectful, he insisted he would be out of your hair the second the holidays were over.
“Ken, c’mere!” you call, beckoning him over. “Help Yuuji with the tree, won’t you?”
“I’ve totally got this, I’ll be fine!” Yuuji exclaims, trying to pick up the plastic tree without even taking it apart. “See?? Totally got it-”
Famous last words, of course, as he slips and thuds to the floor, the Christmas tree atop him. You and Kento both fly in, working to roll the tree off of him as quickly as possible. Of course, once he’s free, Yuuji is laughing, already re-telling the story of his “epic fall” (“it landed on me like whoosh! and I slammed against the carpet like kapow! Did you see that??”).
You sigh, glad he’s okay. “Could thank Nanami for helping you out from under it, you know.”
He flushes, stopping mid-story. “Oops, sorry! Thanks for the save, dad!”
He grins toothily before he catches his mistake, but by then, Nanami’s already tearing up. You are, too. Yuuji lost his family a long time ago. To feel safe enough, to call your husband dad? This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had, you’re certain.
And if you all end up crying? That’s nobody’s business but yours.
Sukuna Ryomen
He’s aware of the human tradition of “Christmas”, but if you think even for a second he considered celebrating it before you, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have time for nonsense like Christmas.
When you insert your annoying self into his life, he’s unsure on how to approach the holiday. His estate was not a place for “joy” or “being merry” (two very important things to Christmas, you had informed him), but with you here, perhaps it could be.
Very against decorations across the estate. In the privacy of certain spaces, he may allow it, but there will be no outdoor decorations or house-wide decorations. He does not want his servants to think he is getting soft for the human he’s been toting around. He will cede to some decorations, but he does not care about you and your silly human traditions.
(they already know he’s going soft for you. Any servant can see the way he looks at you, and how delicate his hands are with you. They’d be stupid not to know at this point the affection he holds for you)
He, at first, refuses to let you put up anything yourself in the approved rooms. He has servants, and he has made it very clear that they are yours to command. Why do you insist on doing it yourself?
You explain the importance of doing it yourself, even have the gall to ask him to do it with you, and he scoffs at this. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have the time to
Later, you will find him reading on Christmas traditions and decorations. When you catch him, he will refuse to acknowledge it, but the way he won’t quite make eye contact with you says all you need to know.
Once Christmas is over, decorations are down and boxed immediately. He instructs the servants the night before to take them down, and by the time you wake, the decorations are gone.
With all of this Christmas decorating and celebrating, Sukuna has barely had a proper moment alone with you. Now that it’s over, expect him to be the closest to “clingy” that you will ever see him.
– – –
It’s early morning, December 26th, and Sukuna could not be more glad that this “Christmas” thing was over. You had become consumed by it, and despite finding some sort of amusement in the way you bounced around all excited and glowy, he was sick of it. You talked on and on about what he had to do with you, and while he indulged you on some of them, he was not fond of being bossed around. You had also mentioned another man, whom you referred to as “Santa” - you had assured Sukuna he wasn’t real, but Sukuna didn’t like the way another man’s name was so easily rolling off your tongue - who brought gifts to children in their homes. You had made an attempt to put up a little “Santa” figurine on the mantle, but found him in pieces (and in the trash) hours later. Sukuna would not allow another man you spoke so highly of to taint his space.
You shift slightly, and he looks down at your sleeping face where it lay against him. You looked utterly ridiculous - your face was smushed against him, your hair was tousled, and you were lightly snoring - but for some reason Sukuna couldn’t tear his eyes from your form. He could hear the servants shuffling around in the other rooms on the estate, taking down the eyesores that you had put up all over the house. While he had instructed them to take everything Christmas-related down across the estate, they also had very specific instructions to never enter his chambers without explicit permission from him. This meant that his chambers were still a little Christmas bubble, the tree you had put up in the corner still standing tall.
When you first tried to get him to put a tree up in his chambers, he had refused. You could put a tree in the approved rooms, he had reminded you, and his chambers were very explicitly off limits. You had frowned, saying something about needing a “personal” tree that you could decorate yourself and keep presents “safe” under it. He informed you that anything you left under the other trees would also be safe, as this was his estate, and no one would touch anything without his permission, but you had just thrown your hands up.
“It’s about the principle, Ryo!”
“Brat, be grateful I’m letting you put up any trees at all. I could call off this whole ‘Christmas’ nonsense whenever I want, so watch your mouth.”
He sighed. He doesn’t know how you managed, but you had eventually wore him down. A sparkling tree sits in the corner of his chambers now, glowing softly. Once you had risen and started to go about your day he was going to take it down, he resolved. Whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest were the fault of this Christmas rampage you had gone on, and nothing else. Once his estate was cleaned of the Christmas blight you had cast upon it, his chest would return to normal, he was certain.
But for now, as the Christmas lights shining from the tree glowed behind your sleeping form, the feelings would remain. He felt himself melt into you, and ran a gentle hand through your hair. His eyes flick to the ceiling before drifting closed again. He sighs, and pulls you a little further into him. Softly, so softly that even the wind barely catches it, he murmurs to you.
“Merry Christmas, brat.”
Fushiguro Toji (ft. Tsumiki and Megumi)
You think this man has ever owned a house? Jokes on you honey, he’s never had that kind of money (or that good of credit).
Subsequently, there’s nowhere to decorate outside, really. Other than the apartment door, but that's too much work for Toji, so any Christmas decorations he might have are inside the walls of his apartment.
He’s boring, but surprisingly your biggest opp in Christmas decoration is little Megumi. Tsumiki is an angel as always and goes along with whatever Christmas shenanigans, but Megumi doesn’t want even a hint of Christmas in the house.
The most you get is a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, which was all Toji was willing to do before you, anyways. As much as he pretends he doesn’t, he’s always loved his kids, and keeps a plastic tree and a small box of ornaments (which is mostly comprised of the ones Tsumiki and Megumi has to make at school) shoved in the corner of his closet for this time of year. He may have been a shitty father, but he cared, in his own way.
When Megumi is little, that tree is down on December 26th, shoved back in the corner of Toji’s closet. Christmas is dumb, and so is anything that reminds him of it.
But now, with warmer memories surrounding it, the tree might take a couple more days to find itself back in the closet. It’s definitely down within the week (Megumi can only handle being sappy for so long), but maybe Christmas isn’t so bad with you around.
And (even though he won’t say it), Toji feels the same way - you see it in the mistletoe that now hangs in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, in the way his eyes find yours as you all decorate gingerbread houses together, in the way he’s just a little sweeter when Christmas comes around. You’re the best present he’s ever gotten, and the only one he needs, this Christmas and every Christmas in the future.
The actual act of taking stuff down, though? With four (mostly) grown bodies shoving around in a tiny apartment, it’s a lot more hectic than you’d like it to be. Someone always ends up minorly hurt every year in the clean-up process. It’s inevitable, and you’re considering making a Christmas scrapbook of all the injuries you all have gotten over the years.
(your personal favorite will always be when Toji yanked on the lights impatiently and the whole tree came down on him. You can still see Tsumiki’s wide eyes and hear little toddler Megumi’s laughter as Toji grumbled about “stupid tree” this and “damn lights” that. He was fine, but his ego was not)
– – –
“Shit-”
You spin around at the gruff swear from your husband, about to scold him for swearing in front of the kids, when you’re met with a facefull of Toji. His chest slams into your face, and you both go down. He barely manages to catch himself over you (if he hadn’t, you’re certain you would’ve been flattened under his weight). Your head smacks into the carpet and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut to battle the throbbing pain in your head.
“Dad, what the hell-”
“Are you two okay??”
Two overlapping voices come from above you, but you don’t think you can open your eyes. You haphazardly throw up a thumbs up, just to blindly whack your husband in the face.
“Ow, doll, Jesus Christ. Watch your hand, won’t you?” Toji gruffs out, but one of his hands is already moving to cradle your head, gently touching around it. He doesn’t feel any blood, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He didn’t really feel like making a trip to the emergency room a couple days after Christmas, especially for something this embarrassing. He’s sure they’ve had enough Christmas-related injuries from the idiots who go out and party, anyways.
“Get off of them, you oaf.” Megumi says, shoving his father off of you. Toji rolls off of you, letting Megumi shove him aside. That kid always liked you more than him, even if you weren’t related by blood.
He lets the kids fuss over you and goes into the kitchen to grab you an ice pack for your head. At worst it’s a concussion, but he’s hoping it’ll just be a bump. Not his fault that Tsumiki got distracted midway through taking the lights of the tree and left them hanging haphazardly. And yeah, maybe it was his fault that he wasn’t looking where he was going and got his feet tangled in the lights. But Megumi was complaining about them still having all of the ornaments he made as a kid, and Toji had to make sure that brat wasn’t throwing any of them away. So yeah, maybe his eyes weren’t on the floor. But in his defense, the lights were only supposed to be in two places - the box, or on the tree.
Grumbling, he makes his way back to the living room, where you’re now situated on the couch. Christmas teardown long forgotten, Tsumiki is asking you questions and holding fingers in front of your face. Megumi is standing broodily to the side. His arms crossed, as if he doesn’t care, but his eyes are watching you with rapt attention.
“For your head, doll.” Toji says, passing you the ice pack. You accept it gratefully, cradling it to where your head smacked into the floor. Your bleary eyes meet his, and you can see the glow of worry hiding behind them. You offer him a weak smile, hoping it’ll ease at least some of his worries.
“I knew I was gorgeous, but you didn’t have to literally fall for me, you know,” you joke, eyes sparkling. There’s a distinct “Ew!” from Megumi as Toji leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, rolling his eyes at your nonsense.
“Merry Christmas, doll.”
“Merry Christmas, Toji.”
And if the half-taken down tree stays up for a day or so more, Megumi doesn’t say a word.
Ieiri Shoko
Shoko has no intention of owning a house, ever. Her apartment has always been more than enough space for her, and being the only sorcerer with her abilities, she works crazy hours, anyways. She wouldn’t have the time to take care of a whole house.
Even with you in her life, she’s still home at odd hours. She tries harder now, to be home more often, but there’s only so much that’s in her control. You’ve woken up many nights to her crawling out of bed and throwing on her coat to get to Jujutsu Tech.
It sucks and she knows it, but both of you know it’s always going to be her reality unless she leaves jujutsu. And both of you know that, at this point, she isn’t going anywhere.
Your Christmas decorations are very sparing. A wreath on the outside of your door, a small tree in the corner of the living room, and perhaps a wintry candle burning. Your apartment isn’t really well-lived in, but you two try to make it as cozy as possible.
Christmas decorations could stay up year round, honestly. She barely cares to put them up, taking them down is way more work than she wants to go through. The wreath is notoriously on the door until mid-February. It’s a miracle if it’s gone by Valentine’s Day.
Things get taken down, piece by piece, until all of it is gone. Unlike most people, it’s not a day that you two do it, but over the course of the rest of December and January.
(The door wreath always gets forgotten because by the time post-Christmas rolls around you’re both used to it and forget it’s even there)
By the first of the new year, the lights and ornaments are off the tree, and all of the Christmas cookies (that you stole from Gojo’s stash) are eaten. At some point, the tree goes down. Eventually, the candle’s been burnt to the end of the wick, and it’s replaced with something more flowery. Any sign of Christmas and the holidays slowly fades away.
Until one of you remembers the wreath, of course!
– – –
A gentle buzzing shakes Shoko from her lunch. She’s rarely aware of what time of day it is in the hellscape that is the basement of Jujutsu Tech; but Gojo, in a rare moment of kindness, had visited her with lunch in his hands. He was blabbering on and on about something nonsensical, as always, but she was grateful for the break. As much as he acted like an idiot, Gojo was anything but - he knew the conversation he was holding was one-sided. He’d act all offended later, she was sure (what a headache), but her little noncommittal “yeah”s and “mhm”s would do for now.
“Ooooh, who’s calling you?” Gojo asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, looking down at the caller ID. Your name lights up the screen, a goofy picture of you flashing behind it. You had thrown the Christmas lights for the tree in the air over your head in excitement, and had ended up all tangled up in them. Despite being somewhat wrapped up in Christmas lights, you had a big smile on your face, laughing at your own predicament. It’s perhaps one of her favorite pictures of you.
Before she can answer it herself, Gojo snatches her phone from her hand, and answers it himself. “Helloooo, Ms. Shoko Ieiri speaking. How may I be of doctor-ly assistance to you?”
She can hear you snort on the other end of the phone, clearly amused.
“Hi, Gojo. How’re you?”
He gasps dramatically. “Gojo?? How dare you confuse me with that no good idiot-”
“Gojo,” Shoko starts, extending her hand, “give me my phone back.”
He sticks out his tongue, handing her the phone. “Boo, you two are no fun!”
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Hey, lovely.”
“Hey, Sho!”
“What’s up, hm? Need something?”
“Oh, nothing urgent,” you say with a laugh. “Just found something I thought you might find funny.”
“Yeah?” she says, smiling. “And what’s that?”
“Do you know what the date is?” you ask, and she hears a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone. You’re clearly on the move as you call her.
“Uhm…” her eyes drift to the childish cat calendar Gojo had hung in her office. He had insisted it would “boost morale”, but mostly it had been an eyesore. “February something-th, I’m sure.”
“Yeah!” you exclaim. “It’s February, Sho.”
“I know that,” she says, though there was no real bite in her tone. “I literally just said that.”
“Oh shut up,” you say, a bit muffled on the other end of the phone. “I’m just saying it’s February. Getting awful close to being March, even.”
“February’s short, lovely, that’s not much of a feat.”
“Shhh, let me talk!! Anyways, you know what I found?”
She racks her brain, but there’s nothing that you would find in the house that would make you react like this that she could think of. “No idea, lovely. Would you like to tell me?”
“The wreath, Sho!”
“The wreath…?” she says, before recognition sweeps across her face. “Oh my god-”
“We left the wreath up!” you’re laughing so hard she’s sure you’re crying. “I- how do we forget every year-”
“We got it down by January last year!”
“Mid-January, Sho, not by January-”
“Maybe we should stop putting it up.”
“Noooo! I love having this conversation every year. Don’t you?”
She’s laughing too, even if she doesn’t want to. “Mhm, of course, lovely.”
“Anyways, you’re probably busy, so I’ll leave you be, but Merry Christmas, Sho!”
She laughs, rolling her eyes at your antics. “Merry Christmas, lovely.”
Higuruma Hiromi
Another busy fellow. Being a lawyer and a sorcerer does that to a man.
But it also means he can afford a nice house in a nice area. You’ve got decent land, and a nice big house to decorate for Christmas.
He’s a total sap, and definitely makes time to decorate the house with you. Your tree will look more like a scrapbook than a Christmas tree - covered in picture frame ornaments of the two of you and dinky little ornaments he saw that he was out that reminded him of you.
Expect Christmas/winter dates with him, too - he may be busy, but he’s bending his schedule as much as possible to take you ice skating or to decorate gingerbread houses with you.
When December 26th rolls around, he’s in the office. He overloads himself in November to clear as much of December as he can, but it’s inevitable that he ends back in the office before the month ends. He’s just glad he got to spend Christmas with you.
The decorations stay up perhaps a little too long, but you’d both rather take things down together. You don’t always get the chance to be domestic with Hiromi, so you wait. The rare moments that you do are always worth the wait.
– – –
You can hear Hiromi across the room faintly humming some Christmas tune as you gently lift the garland from the mantle. After some sort of miracle (and a little bit of string pulling), Hiromi had finally managed to land himself a day off post-Christmas. Things always get busy after Christmas - drunk idiots making post-party mistakes, kids misusing their new toys, marriages that barely manage to scrape through Christmas day at all - and he’s been on back to back cases for a couple weeks now. His eyebags have been cutting deeper into his face by the day, and you’re glad to see something like joy in his step as he weaves the lights off the Christmas tree. Once the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the two of you would bundle up and head outside to get the lights and the wreath, but for now, you could enjoy the warmth of the house for a little longer.
You drop the bundle of garland into one of the many boxes. You knew in your heart that the you of next year would look at the messy pile of garland and be incredibly pissed, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care right now. Sounded like a problem for next year you, not a problem for the you of the present. You had other decorations to take down, and boyfriends to mess with.
You take a peek at said boyfriend as you move the other Christmas knick knacks off the mantle and into the box. He’s still humming something or other, but it’s definitely a new song. He’s dancing to it, a bit, as he gently places your ornaments back in the box. He pauses, sometimes, to look more intently at the little picture frames. A picture of the two of you, at the beach a couple of summers ago. A snapshot of your trip to Paris. A polaroid of you laughing, covered in flour, that barely fits in the frame he bought for it. That one was from this year - he had insisted that you two make Christmas sugar cookies and decorate them, but when you had pulled the flour from the top shelf, it had exploded right out the bottom. It’s what you get for buying the cheap flour, perhaps, but you remember how you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from your throat in the moment. You don’t even remember Hiromi grabbing the camera - just the snap it made as it framed your mishap forever. You shake yourself out of your stupor and look around. You’ve cleared the mantle and the side table, all that’s left in this room minus the tree was…the mistletoe. It hung neatly between the living room and the kitchen, a little glint of green and red against the horrendous light yellow of the kitchen (the old owners had been so pleased with the color that you couldn’t bring yourself to repaint it). You went to grab it down, but even with a stretch to your tippy toes, you couldn’t quite get a grasp on it.
“Hiromi,” you call out, and he makes a noncommittal sound. “Romi, honey.”
He flicks his head over to you, huffing softly at your pout. “What is it, honey?”
You point up at the offending party, its green and red staring back at you mockingly. “Can’t get the little bastard down. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out?”
“Of course, honey,” he says, striding over to you. You expect him to pluck it off its hook himself, and squeal when his arms wrap around your waist and he lifts. You know he’s strong - hell, you’d have to be strong to do his job - but he lifted you with an ease you didn’t know was possible.
“Are you going to get that down, or do I have to hold you here forever?” he says, a teasing grin making its way to his face.
You jokingly contemplate, putting your finger to your lips to ‘think’ about it. “Hmm, I don’t know, feeling pretty comfy in your arms. Might just have to stay here forever, I fear.”
He snorts, gently bringing you back down. He reaches up and unhooks the mistletoe himself, though he hesitates to bring his arm back down.
“What is it?” you ask gently.
“One last kiss? For Christmas’ sake?”
You laugh breathlessly, knowing damn well that it’s late enough into January that this kiss isn’t for anything but him. But, as he dangles the mistletoe above your heads, you can’t help but lean in to kiss him. And if you two don’t stop, even when the mistletoe is long forgotten? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours.
I'm actually going to kill myself, thanks Solmare :)))
I have SO MANY words to say about this but I don't think I can without losing it 😭 This didn't have any sort of warning at all...like you can't just put out 30 dollar dates (for only 2 of the characters, mind you) and then drop this?? It's like they wanted to milk as much money as they possibly could out of us before pulling the rug. I'm heartbroken, I'm angry, but most of all, I'm disappointed. This isn't how it should end, and I know for a fact Chapter 60 is going to just be another quickly thrown together ending. Oooooh, Solmare when I catch you Solmare...
Guys I’m so sorry I know I disappeared forever ago but I am back! I updated my page, and I look forward to writing for all you lovely people again! I’m back on my same old shit (absolutely vile dom!reader smut) so I hope you’re ready >:) This one's a little softer because I think Nanami deserves a bit of a soft!dom...I hope you enjoy! Feeling a little rusty so sorry if this isn't my best work :/
Summary: Your boyfriend has been on edge recently - most likely due to a rapid increase in curses over the last few weeks - so when you get a call from Shoko, you assume the worst. Lucky for you both, he’s not dead. However, she informs you that he’s experiencing some strange side effects, so you find yourself rushing to Jujutsu Tech to deal with a rather unfortunate… problem.
Warnings: swearing, smut, dom!reader, reader has a vagina, p in said v, subby!nanami, sex pollen/sex curse, semi-breeding kink, nanami gets his shit rocked, begging, overstimulation (reader and nanami receiving), unsafe sex (wrap your wee-wee please), a bit praise, nanami calls reader wife once
Let me know if you think I missed anything!!
All characters are over 18 :)
– – –
Bzzt, Bzzt!
You groan, eyes tearing away from the screen in front of you. Life had been in a bit of a slog recently - with your boyfriend constantly away on missions and you trapped at your boring desk job, a phone call was a welcome reprieve. What was odd was the fact that your phone was ringing at all - the only calls that can get through when your phone is silenced is your parents, Nanami, and -
Shoko.
Bright letters flash at the top of your screen as you scramble away in a hurry, phone in hand. You mumble some half-assed excuse as you fly out the doors of the office, keys already in hand, and shakily answer the call.
“Shoko? Is everything okay?” you force out, nearly slipping as you speed-walk to the car. “Is he okay?”
“It’s Nanami,” she says, panic evident in her voice. “He came back from a mission today, won’t stop asking for you. I can’t quite get a read on what he got hit with yet, and I’ve never seen him like this, is there any chance you-”
“I’m already in the car, I’m on my way,” you confirm. “He’s okay, though? No obvious signs of injury?”
“Nothing physical, no,” she says, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “But something’s still clearly wrong, and having you here might help me analyse it. Clearly he’s been hit by some effect of the curse, I’ve never seen this man frantic like this in my life.”
“I’ll be there soon as I can. Call me if you have any updates.”
Shoko hums a confirmation and hangs up, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens, and you take in a shaky breath. What could possibly be wrong? Why did your boyfriend need you, right this instant? At the very least, Shoko didn’t seem to think it was life threatening, but what relief was that? Being a sorcerer was dangerous, hell, that was why you and Nanami had quit in the first place, but you always knew he couldn’t avoid the call of it for long. You prayed that whatever this was would be out of his system in no time.
You take the turn into Jujutsu Tech far faster than you should, haphazardly parking your car. You think you hear the beep! of your car locking, but all you can really hear in your head is the pounding of your heart. Weaving across the grounds, you rush to Shoko’s office, almost barreling into her when you throw the door open.
“Where is he? Is he okay? You didn’t call me again so I assume it’s fine, but-”
“Hey, breath,” she says, oddly calm considering her call earlier. “I figured out the issue.”
“You did?” you exclaim, a little frustrated she didn’t call you. It must not be serious if she didn’t call, but still! She could’ve at least sent a text…
She wiggles her eyebrows at you, a smirk growing on her face. “You guys have to bang.”
“What??” you flush, throwing your arms up. “S-shoko, this isn’t the time for jokes-”
“Not a joke,” she says with a grin, making crude gestures with her hand. “You guys have to bang it out of his system. Fuck. Two-man tango. ‘Make love’, or whatever. Not the worst curse to get hit by, huh?”
“You had me all worried for nothing!” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I thought he was injured, or worse, dying! I could be at work right now, I didn’t even clock out! God, I’m going to be in so much shit when I get back.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. He needs your help,” she explains with a sigh. “The gas that the curse released from its body works as an aphrodisiac, a deadly one. If he doesn’t, uhm…‘mate’ any time soon it could be lethal.”
You flush deeper, blinking at her owlishly. You waited, hoping she was joking, but she was clearly dead serious. “Where is he?”
“He’s got his own room, all the way down on the left,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Don’t ruin my equipment, you hear me?”
You salute, grinning at her, “Aye aye, captain!”
She rolls her eyes, watching you go. It’s going to be a long shift, she thought, rubbing her temples once again. They don’t pay me nearly enough for this.
You make your way down the hall, fluorescent lights flickering above your head. It smelled like chemicals and death down her, a terrible combo. You wrinkle your nose. How does Shoko put up with this all day, every day?
Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even realise that you’re at the end of the hall until you hear it. Frantic, almost manic, heavy breathing from the door on your left. You gulp, rubbing your thighs together. Fuck, in all your time with your boyfriend, you’ve never heard him this desperate before. Like the world was going to end if he didn’t get his dick wet. Lord, you haven’t even seen him yet, and you’re already soaking through your underwear, you can feel it. Tugging on the hem of your sleeve, you nervously raise a hand to knock on the door.
“Kento…?” you startle at the sound he lets out at the sound of your voice. It sounded like…a whine?
“Darling, ooh, darling,” he groans, pitchier than you’ve ever heard him. “You shouldn’t be here, love, get out of here.”
“Ken, honey, I can’t just leave you like this-”
“Please, before I do something I regret, you have to go- hngh!”
There’s a wet splatter on the other side of the door, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. You freeze momentarily, not wanting to believe it.
“Ken, did you just…?”
“Fuck, darling, you don’t know what you do to me,” he groans out. You can hear it now - how he’s rutting into his hand on the other side of the door. The wet shlick of dick sliding in his hand, the way he didn’t stop, even after he came. And he’s certainly never swore this early on, before he’s had your hands on you.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” you say, fingers finding the buttons of your shirt frantically. You don’t care that you’re in the hallway, you don’t care that Shoko’s just down the hall - there’s nothing in your head but the needy sounds of your boyfriend on the other side of the door.
“Please, you have to leave-”
“Open the door, honey,” you say, voice syrupy and sweet. “Want you to fill me up so good, can you do that? For me?”
You hear a quiet “Fuck!” from behind the door and the door handle rattles as he struggles to open it in his haze. At this point, you’re dripping, and you reach a hand out to help him. Easing the door open, you can feel the heat coming off of Nanami in waves. There’s a heady scent of pure sex in the air, and you don’t get a chance to take him in before he’s closing the door and trapping you against it.
“You shouldn’t be here, love,” he murmurs against your neck, hot breath tickling your ear. “Please, go before I lose control.”
Without hesitating, you pull him back by the hair and smash your lips to his. He’s motionless against you, for a moment, before his lips slot against you frantically. His hands come to grope your sides, mean and careless with his touch. He slots his legs between yours almost absentmindedly, and his hips begin to cant against you.
You separate, panting. “So desperate you’re already humping my leg like a slut?”
He flushes, slowing his hips down. You could feel his cock twitch against you, and you grin up at his dishevelled state. He’s a wreck - his tie pulled loose from his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his pants not even off, just hanging loosely around his ankles - and you’re grateful, for a moment, for the curse that hit him.
“S-sorry, love,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. “Can’t control it, please, need you, need you so bad- mngh, fuck!”
You grin, lazily palming his angry cock. “Oh, honey, I’ll help you out. Think you can get on the bed for me?”
He nods, whining softly when he pulls away from your hand. He stumbles over to the bed, losing his pants along the way. He sits and looks at you expectantly, flushed all the way down his neck. His hands are shaking from how much he’s holding back, and he bites his lip so hard it bleeds as you walk over, stripping as you approach. Ever the gentleman, he doesn’t reach out and touch, though it’s clear that he wants to. But right now, you’re in control, and even with the heat coursing through his veins, he lets you take what you want from him.
“Oh, sweetheart,” you say, voice thick with need. “Gonna let me ride your cock? Let you fill me up, breed me?”
“God, darling,” he says with a groan, a bead of precum running down his angry cock. “Want to fill your pussy up, put my kids in you, make you nice and round- mmph!”
You slam your lips to his, guiding him to lay back on the bed. You throw your legs on either side of his and grind down hard, smiling against his lips at the way his hips twitch up against yours. You reach back, fumbling to grip his cock and guide it to your waiting hole. You’re soaking, and there’s a wet shlick as sink down to the base of his cock.
“Shit, fuck, sorry, honey-” His hands find the plush of your hips, and he holds you down as he cums, hot and warm inside you. Your surprised laugh quickly morphs into a moan as you feel him fill you. It’s neverending - you’re certain he’s never come this much in one go before - and you quickly regain your senses, grinding your hips in slow circles, riding him through his orgasm. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his back is arched as he twitches, but he never softens inside you.
“Already came again?” you mock, looking down at him condescendingly as he blinks back into reality. “Some curse you got hit with, must feel so good to let go, huh, baby?”
“C-couldn’t help it, fuck!” he stammers out, hips bucking into your slow grinding. “Need it, need to cum again, need to feel you cum around me as I fuck you full, please, darling, can I?”
His eyes flick up to yours, desperation evident in his gaze. Your boyfriend, who rarely swears during sex, begging you to cum? You were certainly in no place to say no!
Without warning, you pick up the roll of your hips, holding his hips down so he can’t buck into you. He moans, flush spreading all the way down his chest. His thighs are flexing below yours, aching to buck up into you, but you won’t let him.
“If you want my help, you let me control the pace,” you bluff, trying your best to keep your head with how his tip is brushing against your sweet spot oh so sweetly. “Keep trying to buck up and I’ll leave you here to take care of your little predicament yourself.”
“No!” he pants out, frenzied. “No, please, darling, don’t go, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good for you, please-”
“Yeah?” you say, grin feral as you pick up your pace even more. You’re barely able to get words out anymore, but he’s certainly not faring any better. “G-Gonna be good for me? Gonna- hngh, fuck! - fill up my pretty pussy, give me your- ahn- give me your babies?”
He nods, hand fumbling to rub at your clit. His fingers are mean, out of control, but the rough feel of his fingers against your clit is delicious nonetheless. Your head falls forward, and your hips get frantic, pace inconsistent as heat coils in your belly.
“Close, ‘m getting close-” you moan out. “Need you to cum with me, make me full, can you do that for me?”
“Mhmm, anything for you, love,” he says, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself to the feeling of your gummy walls around him. “Love you, love you so much, please, can’t hold on much longer, need to cum- oogh, fuck!”
With a soft ahn, ahn, ahn, you’re cumming around him, grinding your clit down into his hands as he cums, shooting his seed deep into you. You can’t help but keep grinding down, dragging your orgasm out as long as possible. You shakily drag your hips to a stop, head falling forward to knock with his. You let out a soft breathy laugh as you swoop down to kiss him again, his cock finally starting to flag inside you. As you move to get up, he grabs your waist, wincing as he holds you on his cock.
“Sorry honey, ‘m still sensitive,” he whimpers, twitching out a few more spurts of gooey cum into you. “Can- can you sit here, for a little longer?”
“Of course, Ken,” you say, smile soft as you place a kiss against his temple. “Whatever you need. Are you feeling better?”
“A little sore, for sure,” he notes, eyes roaming up your body. “Though you’re probably hurting too, is there anything I can do for you?”
You bark out a laugh, shaking your head. Really is such a gentleman, you think as you struggle to control your face. After all that, he’s worried about me?
“I’m okay, Ken, I wasn’t the one hit with a curse, after all,” you note, hands absentmindedly running up his sides. He smiles up at you, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and pulls you down into him.
“Hey, we need to clean up-”
“Just a second, darling,” he says, yawning as he speaks. “Just need a second to hold you, that’s all.”
You melt against him, knowing that you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. As his breath steadies and he drifts under you, you trace circles on his chest, letting your heavy eyes fall closed, too. He’s right, just a second…
– – –
You wake up with a jolt to a banging on the door, a chorus of voices on the other side.
“Nanamin, I heard you got hit by a curse, are you okay??”
“Be quiet, Itadori, he’s probably trying to rest.”
“Shut up, Fushiguro, you don’t know that-”
“Will both of you shut up?? Either way, he’s definitely awake from all the racket you’re causing-”
You groan, tuning them out as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You glance up at your boyfriend, disagreeing with Nobara - Nanami was still asleep, a little bit of drool coming out of his open mouth. You cringe as you sit up, every muscle in your body burning in protest as you disentangle yourself from Nanami. You wince as you slide off his cock, his release trickling down your leg as you make an attempt to gather dress yourself. Nanami finally stirs awake, groaning softly as his bleary eyes peel open. His eyes find yours as your fumble through the clothes on the floor, throwing his pants to him. He rubs his eyes and rolls to sit on the edge of the bed, watching you intently.
“We need to get dressed,” you say, voice scratchy with sleep. “The kids want to see you.”
“Mm, they can’t wait a little longer? I want some alone time with my wife now that I’m feeling better.”
“Your wife?” you say, grinning at him. “I know I gave you a good time, but you gotta put a ring on it first, mister.”
He laughs, pulling you against him and burying his head into your stomach. Your fingers come up to play with his hair, and he breathes you in, for a second.
Soon, he thinks. Soon I’ll put a ring on that finger.
