After a brief hiatus, I have now graduated college and had 1 question to ask everyone:
What JJK character do you want a full-fledged fic of?
Gojo
Choso
Toji
Geto
Other(reply your answer)
Voting ended onMar 12
I have really been in the writing mood lately and wanted to know everyone's thoughts. Additionally, would we like this fic as an "__ x reader" or OC? I am extremely malleable to the choice LOL so yall can pick for me!
A/N: MDNI. NSFW. Another small little drabble of something for the JJK boys as I continue writing my ask prompts lol enjoy
you just can't help but think there's something so attractive about an injured man doting on you.
You can see the fresh bruising littering his torso, the clenching of his fists and the fresh nail digs in his palms as he stands back, hiding his winces. The way his muscles tense as he pulls off his shirt, slower than usual. The way he groans slightly enough, hardly for anyone to hear as he turns to face away from others.
And you pay attention to how, despite his straining muscles, he's pulling you closer to his sitting position on your bed. He lays his head on your stomach, putting your hands in his hair to knot through. Your standing above him and feel the rise and fall of his chest as his hands slowly warm up and down your sides.
Or how earlier, despite the flinching from his apparent bruises, he knelt in front of you with a cocky grin, hair disheveled to one side and head quirked to the other. His hands found their way to your thigh as he leaned into you, asking how you are, and what you wanna do later.
And maybe you took it upon yourself to show him some grace. You could see the pain ripple through him as he took off his jacket for you to wear in the cold, so you figured you'd lend him the same courtesy.
And boy, was he more than willing to finally let you play nurse. How could he say no to your fumbling hands, forcing him to position himself against the headboard and let you do all the work. The way you grasped his hands to guide up your body, the way you could feel his mouth gravitate to your breast.
Your knees may not have been the sturdiest, but you figured you'd try just for him.
Even if it meant he had to steady you with a laugh, at least he didn't have to overexert himself quite yet. Not when the bruising and cuts all across his skin constricted with each gripping movement your cunt wrapped around him. Not when the light laughing from your struggling caused him enough pain to contemplate flipping you over anyway and driving into you the way he knows you both deserve.
Please I need some college au player turned simp Sukuna!! Hot shit at school. Captain of something. Football,basketball,hockey,the swim team it truly doesn't matter. Cocky for a reason 😏(eww). Doesn't have to work to get girls and then meets "the one" and he has to have her. By any means possible. NSFW or at least allude to it?
And also if you can maybe a friend's turned enemies. Very one sided. Mainly fem. Maybe some kind of miscommunication between them or Choso isn't a very good friend and they make up later. The whole you don't realize what you have until it's gone vibes. NSFW please 🥺
Thank you! 💞
A/N: This is honestly mostly fluff. I only realized after writing this out that I kinda wrote your Sukuna prompt wrong but since I didn't wanna trash it I'm posting it sjfjsjfn feel free to send another ask 😭😭 this is mostly proofread
Plot: College Judo Champion!Sukuna x Reader. Reader gets hurt. Sukuna is an asshole in a very cocky way. Uhhhhh idk what else lmao a fair amount of scene changes here n there. Also, a lot of cussing kinda. Enjoy!!
wc: 5,143
"Fuck- It had to be fucking glass."
Your head bobbed; the stinging error of your ways stabbed the nape of your neck as a pulsating reminder. You couldn't help staring at the abysmal landscape behind Sukuna, barely even registering the tattoos displayed on his blood-sodden arm. You knew it was dark, but everything became too dark too quick. Was it always this blurry? Weren't there-
"Turn that shit off."
Weren't there strobe lights before? That's why it had to be this dark. They had completely wrecked your vision into static- Into floating particles with faint remnants of an oncoming migraine aura.
Was the pink and red coloring what you were envisioning? Isn't it familiar?
"Prices will go up soon," Your radio blared out, "So get a shiny new Arctic AC from the Elmer Brothers before the offer runs out! No interest or payments for a ye-"
"Fuckin' waste of gas," You close your eyes from the sudden nose-splat you took into his shoulder, "Stop keeping your car on for the AC. Or for the fuckin' AC ads."
He smelled like his cologne.
At least you could still smell.
It wasn't supposed to be this dark- There were strobe lights, right? And didn't they kinda look like his hair? The faint remnants of your migraine- Was it his hair?
Your head wasn't just hurting, it was being stabbed. The nape of your neck pulsat- You've thought that already.
What have you done? Your head swayed, your eyes strained, your nose was runny.
It was like you were high.
And you just blinked.
Usually you'd be more aware of your surroundings. You'd be able to pick up the dimly lit LED's on the overhead compartment of your car, you would have foraged through the trash and grime for the first aid kit you knew was hidden behind you, and you'd be more worried about the man before you who was fighting between his pain and his attitude.
But your head hurt.
You'd have made sure he was the one sitting in the passenger seat, right? Being taken care of while you stood next to the door. The breeze would have lifted up the corner of the tattered shirt you bought from Goodwill, giving him direct access to grazing the bare skin he subconsciously likes to grip onto.
But you weren't aware of this. All you could process was the blurry vision- The speckled lights flickering in your peripheral vision. Either from tears or shock, it didn't matter.
Was the pink and red coloring what you were envisioning? Or are you catching glimpses of his hair?
"Talk to me, sweetheart." His voice was firm, but you could barely even register his arm reaching abroad to flip open your glove box, "Now's not the time to be quiet."
There never was a time to be quiet when it came to Sukuna. Some time prior- and you couldn't even be bothered to remember when, he had won a championship for the university's Judo team.
A team you didn't even know they had.
"Sukuna!" Your friend had yelped in your ear, "Over- Hey! Hey, over here!"
Your eyes had closed from the gripping shock her shriek held on your eardrums, opening them at an inopportune time for another shrill of undesirable voices.
Well undesirable to you, anyway.
The crowd was chanting, swallowing up the referees and competitors into inaudible pro-Sukuna marches.
"Let's fucking go!" His friend bellowed in front of you with a sturdy jump off the bleachers.
"Sukuna!" You flinched your eyes shut once more, "I told you we could do it! W-"
"Where's your first aid?"
He was good at doing that. Another stupid little mumble of his that momentarily pulled you back, forcing you to agonize over the situation at hand.
What were you doing? Where were you? Why are you of all people going silent? Why couldn't you do anything worthwhile?
Why are you such a goddamn fucking coward?
"It's in the console," You spoke faintly. Maybe too faintly. Even if you had been preoccupied with your thoughts and unbecomings, Sukuna was juggling between bandaging himself up and watching you.
"Hello to you, too." He laughed, "The console?"
Yeah, it was the console. You had said that already, and maybe you would have muttered it again prior to your cheek hitting the car seat.
It rubbed against you like chalk. You knew you drove a piece of shit, Sukuna talked about it all the goddamn time. He was probably thinking about it now, even as he shifted through your shit as his knees steadied near the door.
Had you been standing by the door, you'd have felt the breeze lift up the corner of your Goodwill shirt- Something you've thought of already. But then, had you not been sat where you were, you wouldn't feel the slight brushing of his forearm against the sliver of exposed skin on your hip.
Another instance of something for him to grab, at least.
You could feel the tiniest of goosebumps litter you while staring beyond him to nothing. Nothing but the abysmal landscape and his tattoos. His left arm steadied itself on the seat head, aligned perfectly with your eyebrow ridge.
The wound was in your face.
You had no idea if he was making any commentary or not, but assumed it was likely.
"The fuck is this?" He once sneered.
You blinked in confusion with a purse approaching your lips, vaguely acknowledging the students that chattered in the background of the university's main walkway.
"Mm... A car? You ever hear of them?"
The faintest skin contact you had with him sent blood rushing straight to your ears. Your heart was pounding, but this time it wasn't out of any ill-timed crush or adoration.
It was because you were weak.
"It's shit on wheels," he had remarked, "You got all this shit in here-"
"It's not shit on wheels." you curled back, "You, on the other hand-"
"What the fuck do you need this for?" he held up the bag in disgust, prying his fingers away from his face as he leaned against the frame.
You shrugged.
"Trash."
He proceeded to shove it into your chest, huffing as he turned back to the open view of your backseat.
"You ever fuckin' use it?"
You knew he was probably thinking that. Was he silent about it, or verbalizing it? Sukuna wasn't one to keep his thoughts to himself, but he was also hurt at the moment.
He was hurt because you were weak and incapacitated. You were helpless, powerless, fuck it- Impotent in the eyes of any physical activity that required somebody to rely on you. You couldn't even manage to get the shitty first aid kit you bought online yourself; he had to scour through your piece of trash vehicular knockoff while you sat there with your knees facing forward and poor, precious- Useless hands in your lap. He had to be the one to set it next to your leg, to open it, and to prepare it himself.
"Why do I need a first aid kit?" you had questioned him with your knees pulled into a hug while sat in the corner of his training facility, "I'll just... Go to the hospital or something, I don't know."
he had looked at you with a scrunched nose and hints of bewilderment.
You shrugged, "They're expensive."
His head swooped down, "And the hospital isn't?"
your eyes looked at the ceiling. Usually the facilities here had leaking spots, almost as if someone shook a carton of soda and went crazy. This one was clean, though.
"Got me there."
His movements were precise- Knowledgeable even, and it would have caught your attention had it not been for the gash on his arm. He had blood everywhere.
Why? All because you're weak? He has to get stitches because you can't throw a punch? He has to clean it himself because your hands aren't capable of doing anything besides hiding the crocodile tears you knew you were shedding? As if you'd be able to be genuine in any moment, let alone this one.
He had maneuvered his left arm from your seat and settled it on the door frame as he grasped onto the bandage roll. You could use this moment alone as proof of gravity; Hopefully he'd be willing to clean up the spots of blood that splattered across the frame.
You watched as he fumbled with the wipes, the Alcohol- The whatever he was going to use to sanitize it. You noticed how the cut completely ignored the lines of tattoos on his arm, almost as if he was slaughtered by a child's attempt at a coloring book. Your eyes followed when he crouched himself before you, mumbling obscenities to himself while flexing the blood off his vein like a dripping faucet.
"See somethin' you like?" he quipped.
He cleans it off himself, because you weren't capable of doing anything. He was fumbling with everything in your kit, trying to prioritize whatever sequence he thought was best for cleaning the wound. And once he got himself situated, he attempted the unraveling of the roll. You caught how a few trickles of blood wiped along the edge of the bandage as it swayed over the wound. He faced his elbow up towards him, using his other hand to wrap it around the width.
It kept coming off, there was no secureness in it.
And maybe he was doing it on purpose. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna to be playful with your self-hatred.
"You gonna keep staring at my arms or are you gonna help me clean this up?"
He was always playful with it. He knew where it came from. He knew you never thought yourself as better than anyone, of worthy of anything. He could have guessed for a multitude of reasons. It could have been because you were struggling financially, but you never really cared about wearing hand-me-downs. It could have been because you didn't put too much effort into your appearance, but that was because your laziness and worry of spending even a penny outweighed any desire to be seen as purely presentable.
But it's not like you walked around like a complete buffoon.
At least, not in your eyes.
"Yeah, okay." he bunches up the wrap to reveal it in your face. "Here."
he holds it out, but you don't move. Like a coward you sat, still staring below the item at his arm.
"Come on," he forces it into your palm, "Put those hands to use if you're not gonna talk."
You stare.
You stare and you can't help but think somebody else would have been better in this situation. Somebody who would have been competent, somebody who would have had more experience with not freezing up.
There was a gymnast one time that you knew, who completely worshipped the very movements of Sukuna's Seoi-Nage and Hane-Goshi. You, as stupid and un-worldly as you are, asked her:
"Who's Hana Gosh-"
"C'mon, I don't have all day." his face cocked downwards to meet your eyes, "You want me to bleed to death?"
You don't know much about Judo, much to Sukuna's demise. You looked at him, the glint in his eyes and the withering of the bandages let you know once more, that he's not all that bothered by what went down. Sukuna has been slowly, but surely, forcing his knowledge onto you. He had taken you to the mat the other day, throwing you around like a ragdoll in the name of self defense.
He at least did it wisely though, having previously spent weeks teaching you how to fall properly and without pain.
Yet here you were, showing him the true cowardice that poisoned your soul. What was the point of any lesson- Of any book he threw your way to make you learn?
Your eyes gravitated towards the wrap. Your nimble and freezing fingers hesitated like a stutter as you loosely grabbed it. You might as well as try now, God knows Sukuna's probably done with you.
Why wouldn't he be?
You look at the back of his forearm, more than familiar with the hairs that laid flat on them. Just yesterday, your nails were digging into them as he had you on the mat once more for practice, facing away from him in a headlock. He was cocky then, and as it turns out, being the girlfriend of a cocky asshole gave him your permission to express what else he could do to you on the mat.
"Kinda like you in this position," he had whispered into your ear. You could feel the tip of his smile graze it; the arm that locked around your neck felt precariously warm and bit into the free edges of your nails. he chuckled at your grip, "What're you gonna do about it, baby?"
you rolled your eyes with a smile, slightly shaking your head at his absurdity.
"Nothing," You joked, "That's why I'm here, remember?"
he tsked at your response, "It's been weeks. Show me something."
"Or else what?"
"Keep testing me." his voice was low as his other hand splayed across your stomach, "I want you to find out what'll happen."
You stretch out the flimsy, pale wrapping weakly. Lifting your hand to the fresh blood that just started to clot, you attempt to place it flat as lightly as possible. Your fingers shook in a struggle of getting a meager, even breath out of your lungs.
Sukuna flinched back.
Your eyes shot to him, stalling the sounds of your expanding chest.
"My eyes are up here." he winked.
The dangling wrap in your hand had more blood on it than before. Your hands shake from the cold, possibly from fear. It's not as if the desperate attempt to wrap the bandage around him was the cause, but whatever has you shaken is noticeably the reason you can't seem to grasp the roll with any strength. It sat in your lap as you manage to just barely place it around his forearm when you accidentally, as always, drop it.
Your eyes travel down to the bandage that trailed itself along your leg. There was a tint of red on your finger.
You were here because of your mistakes- Because of your decisions. You couldn't even grasp a fucking bandage that weighed nothing more than a feather. The least you deserved was for blood to roll off your fingers just as it did with his.
"You're okay." he felt mere inches from your ear. The very hair on your neck stood straight from the low hush of his voice, "Pick it up and try again."
You do.
After a moment, you pick it up with a pinch from your leg, setting your sight on the brunching of it in your hands. You start the process over. You look at his forearm, you touch him hesitantly and lightly, and you shakily secure the corner around him with your thumb.
And you finally, after too many moments of deliberation, start wrapping it securely around his forearm.
"Make it tighter," his voice was low and quiet, "I'll be fine, I'm a strong boy."
You took in a breath while adjusting the pressure with a twist around your palm, giving him the tightness he was asking for.
"There you go." he groaned, looking away from you with a hidden expression, "That's better."
Who knows how long it took for you to complete the task. Had you been athletic, you would have had more quickness with it as if it were muscle memory. Had you been competent, you could have given pointers regarding the sanitization. Had you been anything besides meek and vulnerable, you could've been something to him.
Sukuna was a star athlete.
The head of the Judo team with a voice that could immediately trigger someone's fight or flight. You weren't scared of him when you first met though, you didn't even know him. You had no idea who he was when you were sat at a table in a shitty little pizza parlor with your friends. You had never seen tattoos like that until they were wrapping themselves around her shoulders, causing you to glance in her direction at the new presence.
"-'s Sukuna!"
"Su-what?" you spoke with strained eyebrows, realizing you just completely missed his introduction.
"Sukuna!" she giggled while bringing his hand to her face, "I wanted you to meet him."
Your eyebrows furrow once more as you bring your finger up to scratch the tiredness away from your waterline.
"Why'd you want me to meet him?"
He had sat himself down on the booth next to her solo chair, a smile etching on his face as he looked at her.
"No, not you." she shoots a look at you, "I'm talking to S-"
"So, You got a thing for my arms, now?"
Your ears were ringing.
Had you kept your eyes open the entire time?
You watched as he flexed his forearm once more, "Can't say I blame you."
You've heard him say that before. When you first started to get to know him, he hardly ever even referenced you. In fact, you couldn't pay him five bucks to remember your name.
"You just gonna stand there and watch?" he had joked, "Can't say that I blame you."
You stared at him on the ground, squinting at his expression.
"...Aren't you supposed to be a good athlete?"
Just that one stupid little sentence of yours made him pause from his attempt at standing back up. He swiveled his head with a sigh loosening his lips to give you a crooked, cocky grin. He caught your eyes as he leaned back on his palm, gravel digging into it as he shoved his other one in the air for you to take like he was a princess needing to be escorted.
"Help me up," he spoke, "I'll show you how good I am."
Your eyes traced his fingers, taking a quick glance around the curvature of his rings. They were silver and black, speckled with a mirror-clean image. You trailed your eyes back to him, and with a deep, hefty breath...
You walked away.
"Oh c'mon," You heard his bellowed laugh, "What're you afraid of? We don't even know each other!"
"You literally throw people for a living," you shot back without looking.
And you had proceeded to walk away.
Sukuna, brave and mighty as he may be, was confined to crutches for a few weeks because of a bad strain. The truth of the matter may have been a little different, you're more inclined to believe he kept them so long for sympathy. You weren't in the mood to play into his flirtatious throwing skills, knowing full well he could body you with or without any temporary handicap that made him eat shit, face first.
However, for the weeks that followed with him hanging off of your friend, you still actively went out of your way for him because he was on crutches. You knocked rocks out of his path when he trailed behind you whispering sweet nothings into your friends ear. You walked the friend group around buildings to the accessibility ramps when you knew they were playing follow the leader, as their drunk asses couldn't give a shit about anything other than giggling their gossip amongst each other. You even held an umbrella over hers and his heads once on a particularly rainy day. All of which never really earned you a thank you from him. It wasn't like you were doing this to gain his favor, but you simply did it as a gesture for him slowly integrating into your friend group.
It all came to a head though, when you finally did do something stupid that got his attention.
Enough for him to remember your name.
"Repeat that for me."
You let the silence fester.
Your ears picked up the distant music, the rustling of leaves, and the laughing of a group not too far from where you sat in the car. You had spoken, apparently.
It was the main thing on your mind.
"I think we should break up."
You sniffed your nose, refusing to make eye contact knowing full well that you are the only reason he's hurt. Hopefully, your voice wasn't too meek and too quiet.
You stared down at your shoes. Previously-white would be a compliment to the off-brand-off-color soles that stilled below.
A few months ago, you had side stepped yourself in front of him to take a punch. Kicking up a tuff of grass- Probably the little speck of muck you can see in the corner of the outsole.
You knew it was stupid. You knew he could have dumped the crutches and fought back, but it was like an innate action in you abrupted. That wasn't the sequence of events that got you stuffed into the passenger seat after you attempted to start the car, however.
No.
What happened was simple, and it wasn't justifiable in comparison to the bloodied figure that stood before you.
You had, completely on accident and not at all your fault, bitch slapped his enemy.
It wasn't your fault; you shot your hand back like memories of childhood cat fights resurfaced.
And then, you ran.
Because you realized you had, indeed, just bitch slapped his enemy.
Sukuna thought it was the funniest fucking thing he had ever seen. He couldn't help but watch in an erroneous awe as the umbrella you held over his head fell to the floor, corners smacking the top of his head as you scurried off like a drowned rat.
He stared back at the guffawed crowd that slowly formed, using the end of his crutch to trip the guy that tried to go after you.
And from then on, he bothered you tremendously. He wasn't one to thank people, but he also wasn't one to feel like he owed somebody. It didn't sit well with him that he wasn't able to predict a stranger jumping in for him, and as cocky and competent as he may be, his guilt started to seep in after the hilarity of the situation washed off.
Because you had unknowingly just made yourself an enemy of another talented fighter. All because he was on crutches.
Your stupid decision on day one of Sukuna finally remembering your name built up to this moment, where the guy you had bitch slapped wanted to prove to everybody that he wouldn't let you get away with it.
Your hands started to shake in your lap as your ears perked at his low chuckle.
"Sure we should." Sukuna brought his hand to his face, wiping off the streak of blood that convened on his chin. "And I should win a Tony award."
"I'm serious," You spoke.
"I'll bet you are." he turned towards you from his heightened angle, "I'm not breaking up with you over a scratch."
Your eyes squint, your eyebrows furrow. Actions that you can't seem to prevent around him.
"It's not just a scratch-"
"You think I give a shit about this?" he held up his forearm for you to view, "They were bashing your fucking head in and you think I give a shit about some glass? Get the fuck outta here. Break up, my ass."
Everyone had just watched. Sukuna wasn't the only person that hadn't bothered to remember your name. And unfortunately for you, if you exist as a nobody, you get beaten as one as well.
The only person to do anything about it had arrived late, but the second he realized what was going on, he had thrown him off you. And his enemy decided to break a beer bottle to finish the fight.
Hence, why Sukuna was mocking your sulking attitude with jokes about his gorified forearm.
You listened as he slid himself down with a huff against your car door.
"We're not breaking up because you feel bad."
"I'm fine." Your voice nothing more than a mutter, still refusing his line of contact.
"Look at yourself in the mirror and say that shit to me again."
Your ring finger traced the corner of your eye. Every little thing seems to be a memory for you. And luckily, they were largely good.
"Say that shit to her again," he had laughed, almost maniacally. "Let me hear it this time."
"I'm not talking t-"
"Say that shit to my girlfriend again or walk the fuck away from me." his palm traced your lower back, "Your choice."
And they stood silent.
"Or I could make it for you, too."
You hadn't known you were his girlfriend at that point. Not that it was your fault, you just hadn't had the conversation yet. Sukuna was not a particular fan of that following conversation though, even if you just wanted unabashed clarity.
You could still hear the party going. You finally let your eyes view over him, crinkling your nose at the way his muscles strained over his knees and biceps flexed with his calloused fingers.
You couldn't help yourself eventually. He was, unequivocally, extremely hot.
For you, it started with his voice. Son of a bitch had the mouth of a sailor, but if it wasn't honest, it was for a joke. His reputation didn't precede him, it completely misconstrued him. Sukuna liked to laugh, liked to fight, liked to eat, and liked to watch pretty girls walk around while giggling with their friends.
But he also liked you.
He liked that you tried, even if you didn't succeed. He liked that you knew nothing about Judo- He could make a mockery of you and you wouldn't even know what it meant.
But you still caught on.
And you persisted with him and his banter. You both were allowed to exist with each other wholeheartedly, which included moments of insecurity and vulnerability.
Even if it was hard for him to take those moments seriously.
"They had you on the floor." he cracked his neck swiftly, "I don't give a shit if you didn't get hurt. I bought you that jacket, and they ruined it. That's good enough for me."
you look down at it, grasping the hefty material between your fingers.
It became your sole jacket, now blood soaked and alcohol bleached. Sukuna had noticed you often wore jackets despite the enraging temperatures outside.
And of course, that was just another thing he gave you shit for.
"I don't need your permission to break up with you, Kuna."
he laughs at you, folding his healthy arm into the crook of his lap.
"Yeah, you do."
"No," You shook your head in opposition, "I really don't."
"I've decided you do." he nods along, flicking a piece of dirt off his knee.
"Well," you trailed your words behind his mocking, "Then, I've decided, just now, that I don't."
You can feel the piercing of his eyes into your skull. God forbid he ever be granted lasers, you'd surely be evaporated in moments on one of his bad days.
"Seriously?"
your eyes travel away from him further, knowing you're once again a reason for his bad days. His voice was firm as always, but it was more strained and annoyed than his usual temperament with you.
"You're gonna break up with me because I defended you?"
"You got hurt." Your eyes continue to refuse his glare, "It's my fault."
"So did you," he gestures, "I spent weeks teaching you how to fight. You want me to break up with you because you can't do jackshit?"
In his defense, you really couldn't do jackshit. He couldn't even start out on punches with you. He had to teach you how to properly stretch.
As in, literally just reaching your fingertips to the tips of your feet.
"Yes."
"Bullshit. We're not breaking up over this."
"We should."
"No."
"Kuna-"
"We're not having this conversation," he bit out with a fling of his head away from you, "Not when you look like a Black Friday victim."
your brain stuttered, slightly malfunctioned at his insult.
"A what?" a small smile forms on your lips.
he gestures around with his bloodied hand, "You look like that wack ass Barbie from the movie we watched."
Oh.
"You mean Weird?"
"Yeah, you look fuckin' weird."
"No, I mean Weird Barbie." You curl your expression from him.
"Sure," he nods, "You can be Weird Barbie."
"I'm not saying I wanna b-" his eyes meet yours as you sigh, "What's that got to do with Black Friday, anyway?"
He shakes his head as you both look away, enjoying the temporary vacation from any banter to listen to the wind blowing.
It was still Sukuna, though. And this was the first instance of him seeing you in a state like this. Sure, he usually lets his propensity for shit talking overrule his mouth, but even he could recognize when it wasn't enough for him.
"You really okay?"
He had asked you several times before. While he was dragging your tripping feet to the car you agreed to take home together. While he forced you away from the drivers seat after your fingers found the slot for your keys. After he had shoved you into the passenger seat and inspected you inch for inch, hardly saying anything between his gripping and tugging.
You were lucky that you weren't bleeding. Just bruised with a shattered ego.
"Sure."
"Change your mind about the hospital?"
"I think you need it more than me."
he shook his head, "I don't need shit."
"Then, I don't either."
"Yeah, right."
"What, you wanna re-enact all your freaky nurse dreams with me or something?"
He scoffs a laugh, "If you're offering."
"That was not an offer," You look away, "Most people call it mocking."
"You're mocking me?"
"Is there an echo?"
"Oh, so now you're suddenly brave huh?" he cocked his head, "Where was this attitude half an hour ago?"
"Mm... It got drowned in vodka."
"You drank tonight?"
you held up your fingers, a small distance between them up for him to view.
he pushes himself up from the ground, a sly grin crossing his face as he makes his way to you.
"Good." he ruffles your hair with a laugh as he moves your legs in the car, "I'm gonna take advantage of you while I still can."
"Can I stay at yours tonight?"
"What'd you think I meant?" he grips the door, "Watch your fingers. And no vomiting in my car."
"It's my car."
"Su car, Mi car."
"You're not failing Spanish, are you?"
he shoves your head down to make you look in your lap.
you smile to yourself, lifting your head as you hear him close your door and walk around the front, gripping your car keys in hand as he strides.
A/N: NSFW MDNI. Another short drabble as I am working on some of the requests I got in my ask me anything !
JJK boys who have an unusual obsession with being the only thing inside of you.
You want to buy a toy to prepare yourself? He'll ask why you don't just start out on his nose, slowly working yourself up to his fingers.
You want to feel what a vibrator is like? He'd rather take his time devouring you, showing you that slow, purposeful, pulsing licks get more out of you than that fast rose toy you wanted to buy.
You heard mechanical devices are the quickest way to squirt? Sweetheart, you're never leaving the bedroom until you do. He doesn't care if you're begging, if you're pleading. You threatened his ability- Completely ignited his desire to win a challenge.
And that's how you ended up where you are. On your back, hands stuck in his hair as he mutters into your cunt his disdain for you wanting a toy.
And you feel it all. It's not kitten licks, it's not hesitation. It's him using his tongue to it's full ability. He's pressing your hips hard into the mattress to keep you from squirming as he flattens his tongue against your aching clit. He's going slow, tantalizing your agony and desperation. He doesn't care if you wanted it fast, he gets the most reaction out of you when he's slow.
When he's dragging his fingers in and out of you at a decreasing pace, which only makes you plead and plead more, not even knowing what you want. When he folds your legs into your chest, using his spit for lubricant and refuses to heed into your desperation.
No, he doesn't care if you want it fast. Toys are designed to go fast.
He, however, is designed to take his time. And he always does on you.
pleaseee use my ask me anything as a prompt request ! I am trying to get some more writing drafts out as I progress with my story ideas and would love any opportunity to just... write ty ty 😪😪
Also, while I've started doing jjk fic and what not, I am open to any suggestion for whatever fandom someone has so ! use my ask me anything !
A/N: NSFW mdni! Geto x Reader. Small drabble as I'm doing miscellaneous plotting.
Suguru Geto isn't someone who second guesses himself much, but perhaps his first impression of you was off.
Suguru Geto doesn't know how to respond when you're the first person to gift him small things simply because he's near you and you like to give people trinkets.
Suguru Geto, who lends you his jacket as his first gift, after you had given yours up to another friend but started freezing your ass off.
Suguru Geto's hand will linger on your back when you're scared, preventing you from stepping away in fear and making you stand your ground.
Suguru Geto will take a while to warm up to the idea of a date with you. Not because he's nervous, but because he's hesitant to believe if you feel the same way.
Suguru Geto's hand engulfs yours for the first time, completely of your own volition. He peers down at you from his angle on the chair as he watches you play with the rings on his fingers.
Suguru Geto doesn't mind that it takes time with you, feeling himself grow more and more fond of the little touches you send his way as you get comfortable.
Suguru Geto also doesn't mind if he has to guide you. Taking your hand in his to trail down past the elastic band of your sweatpants, under the underwear you made sure was appropriate for the night.
And Suguru Geto adores the way you try to keep quiet. His competitive streak grows as he learns over time just how exactly to make you louder.
Suguru Geto doesn't second guess himself when it comes to you. Days that turn into months have led him to realize that you're more consistent than he first thought, and that the way your gummy walls constrict around his length is what makes him appreciate your vulnerability and the time it took to earn your trust.
Suguru Geto, who just can't get enough of you for who you are, and what you're becoming.
If I were to continue my Geto fic in full, would yall prefer first person, second person, or third person?
I am naturally inclined to third person as it's my preferred writing style lol but if first person or even second person is more preferred, then I will oblige 🫡
just to clarify: I mean this in regards to the WHOLE story, I can keep the smut as self insert or I can make it a part of the established pov. depends on what the crowd wants 😪
A/N: NSFW content! mdni! m!receiving! partial f!receiving! (wait for pt 2 HAHA), attitude!Geto x honest!reader, bj!reader, first-time (ish) reader, fem!reader. Established relationship. slight!dacryphilia (if you squint). This is my first time writing smut so pls be kind 😔😵💫 It's not fully proofread cause I wrote this in like an hour 😪😪
Geto stood tall.
His forearms grazed against his thigh with the water trickling down his veins, each subtle sway of his fingers relinquishing the droplets back down to the drain.
His hair, wet and sticking to his cheeks. His eyes, peering down at the little thing in front of him.
You.
"Can I try?" You spoke, almost as if swallowing a gulp. Your eyes caught his and were not daring enough to look away.
"If you want to."
His voice was breathless. Had you not spent the past several minutes making out, fumbling your way through the bathroom door, tripping over your discarded clothes and fumbling with your undergarments, then perhaps he may have remnants of his usual firm yet calm facade.
This, however, was different. It was a new occasion.
An occasion that involved you, down on your knees, a hairs width from the stiffened head of cock.
You had wanted to spend time on the rest of him; Dedicating each ragged breath of yours to his chest, admiring the flinching of his abdomen as you forced him to relinquish control. You were not always in the mood to take charge, particularly as Suguru Geto made it known that he was the more domineering one in this relationship. You wanted to worship all of him. You had spent time trailing kisses down his neck, sucking up the water that was being wasted in the shower just to spray down the faint trickling hairs under his belly button. The faint voices of your elders lingered in the back of your mind as you quietly forgot your worries about the monthly water bill. What you don't know is that Geto would never make you pay for it in the first place.
Oh, right.
First place.
How had you gotten here in the first place? Not just on your knees, begging your lover to suck the life out of him. No, how have you snagged the hottie with the boddie of the year?
His eyes never left yours, what felt like hours was in actuality moments. Long silencing moments you couldn't wait to bear just for him.
You were here because he didn't just love you.
He respected you.
"Can you tell me what to do?" you laugh lightly in hopes of trying to be more open and honest with your sex life, "I've never given one before."
The moments of eye contact you had previously forsaken in the limited months you've dated are all adding up here. His eyes deepened into your soul as his hand lightly grabbed yours in his. His palm engulfed yours. It was warm, calloused from years of aggravation and violence. The pure feeling felt secure, letting you know those very hands would never be against you.
"Stay on your knees."
And it was silent once more. The shower head provided light white noise, effectively washing over any fear you may have had in the first place.
"So demanding," You nodded, "I'll need more than that-"
His hand, still lingering around yours, took the words out of your mouth as he wrapped your dripping fingers around his width. It caught your attention, as it usually did. Although you weren't a complete stranger to him and his girth as a whole, you had only just started your sex lives.
Suguru wined and dined you until you finally caved in from need, having never pressured you to feel like you owed him for his time. It was the way he was, and that was why you strayed further and further and further away from your studies, your TV shows, your hobbies, your life- Just as each waking moment was slowly etched with his initials.
How had you gotten here again?
"Just so you know," you blinked up at him innocently, "I do have a gag reflex, so I can't do it all yet."
"Use your other hand."
You were here because he had an attitude.
Suguru didn't like you when you first met. And unfortunately for you, it was indeed your fault. Just, not purposefully. He had misconstrued you. He thought you only liked him for his looks, not understanding the man that truly was beneath the hair you braid every Friday night.
"Start at the tip."
Unbeknownst to him at the time, you were mocking a friend that only admired him for his looks.
"Teeth or no?" You asked.
"No."
He had misunderstood you. Framed you for actions you did not partake in.
"Use your tongue."
That friend, who no longer has a seat in your contact list, was the one he should've had an attitude with. He only came to know this after months of getting to know you. Of realizing the truth of who you are. Someone not perfect, not completely innocent, and who was more than willing to let people treat you like shit.
The only thing he grew to hate about you.
his left hand gripped yours as you both slowly moved up and down his shaft together.
You sure did love group activities with him.
Your other hand naturally lifts itself to the movements as your face was drawn closer and closer to his glistening length. You wanted to do to him what he has done to you. You wanted to show him appreciation and the same worship he makes you feel.
Your face is mere inches from his cock, where you opted for the side to lather soft, delicate kisses onto him. Your lips moved with hesitation, your tongue slightly peeking through your teeth with each intricate press. You open your mouth slightly more with each kiss, allowing your tongue to ruminate on his most vulnerable exposure.
He smelled of coconut, all thanks to you. The body washes added up in his shower as he procured them through each stay you privied him with.
The smell, the intoxication of his touch, the presence of his being. It was all too much and not enough. It manifested itself in kitten licks and adoration. You traveled slower and slower to the tip until you reached just the side of it. You allowed yourself to feel a little more free, a little more open. This was Suguru after all. The man you think about even when you don't realize it
"Put it in your mouth, sweetheart."
And you do so.
Your mouth closes around just the tip as your hand continues to move.
"Use your..." he's breathless, "Like that."
You swirl it. Plopping his pinkened hardness in and out like a lollipop, moving your hands faster and faster in congruence.
"Can you go further?"
That's all he needs to say to get you feeling a little more brave. Time is spent on him, yet it all seems to stop. You don't quite reach him to your gag reflex, knowing the last thing you need is to gag on your lover. You feel him as far as your tongue can go, head lolling back as you gyrate with him.
He groans a little. Almost... Stifling it?
Which was all the confirmation you needed.
Your hands take charge on his base as you match his speed, daring to go faster. Your tongue darts around his tip, feeling each crevice and softened pulped skin. His hand let's go of yours, forcing it into the creases of your hair. The tugging, the motions, his moans, they all add up until you feel yourself becoming nothing more than his whore. You can feel yourself enjoying this, the space between your legs feeling forced to close around something.
The very something in your mouth.
You let the spit gather in your mouth as aided lubricant just as his strength gathered in his grip. You hollow your cheeks as your hand speeds, feeling your tongue dart every which way but loose. The feeling of it, skin soft and warm but built like a fucking cucumber.
You were mouth fucking a cucumber.
And you hear him, groaning, almost on the verge of whimpering. You alone were the reason this six foot something would be left a withering mess.
But Suguru, as always, had other plans.
He could feel it. He knew he was building to it. The way your mouth was hesitant at first but took control, the way you never allowed yourself to feel too embarrassed with him. The way you showered your affection, let him feel as beloved as you do, let him feel your touch as with his. He knew your tongue inside and out. He knew the scaring you had in your cheeks from years of biting, he loved the way he got to teach you to kiss.
And he could not last now, knowing you are giving him head on his instructions. His tip was slobbered with your spit, peeking in and out of your mouth like you were savoring it. His brutal moan built continuously, having to consciously hold himself back from bullying his way into the back of your throat. He wanted to see you wither. To make you feel the way he was.
And he was not done.
"Fuck," he groaned. His grip on your hair was more forceful than the previous seconds, yanking you back with a jolt.
"Stop."
And you did.
You stared at him as his hands moved with quickness down himself. In seconds, he's done.
And it's all over your chest, spurting and falling across your tits as you stare at him, unsure if he's upset or satisfied.
He's breathing heavy, head thrown back as he continues to finish across you. His hair covered his cheek all the way down to the sides of his neck.
It was only now that you really started to feel the pelting water behind you, littering your back with misty bullets.
A never-ending time loop resulted in him finally cupping your hands and trailing them up his chest as he brought you into an assaulting kiss. He forced you onto your feet, slowly losing all stability as you felt the progressive loss of stimulation on your back.
That's when you hit the wall.
Your lips fell into his as his hands cupped your face. You held onto his arms for dear life, feeling how his bicep moved itself along you. Grabbing a fistful of your supple skin, gripping your thigh with life as he lifts your leg, placing it right over his elbow.
"You don't..." you stuttered on his roaming hands, "You don't have to."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You're busy today," Your breath halts as his fingers lightly dance down you, slowly entangling itself with your clit, "You can- You can g-go."
You feel everything. You feel how delicate he is as he slowly caresses his fingers up and down your folds, much as you had done to him moments ago. You stare into his eyes as your grip on his upper arms dig in further, understanding that he is the only reason you haven't fallen yet.
Realizing you are about to be in an even more vulnerable position than he was, moments ago. that's when he brings himself to your neck, slowly guiding his lips back up to your earring-less lobe with a whisper that echoed goosebumps into your spine.
"I have time."
A/N: I literally had to google ear anatomy bc I forgot the word for earlobe
I am currently a college student and as with many people on here, writing is everything to me. I am employed as a professional script writer through a local entertainment/video game company as well as a music teacher and am looking to expand my horizons (and pay off my degree lol). To get started, I am taking commissions for ANYTHING for 5 dollars and have opened a $3/month Patreon membership! There's no word limit, plot exceptions, nothing. If you happen to join the membership, I'm also taking free commissions from members to get started for a month!
If perhaps you're looking for help with learning an instrument (Guitar, Bass, Piano, and Viola), any commission for help is also available at $5 dollars or via membership! I am mainly looking to expand my page so that when I do get to publishing the story I am working on (will be out by next year), it's not falling on deaf ears. Please help a current debt-grower out 😭😭
What exactly is the demand for original paid work? Because I am STRUGGLING in college debt and am a professional writer (including scripts) and would love to know if anyone would pay even a little bit to a patreon or smth for requests 😭😭 like idc what it's for ILL DO ITTTTT
thinking of publishing to wattpad but like... does anyone read there anymore??? I don't wanna do ao3 since it's an ow im writing and not ff but... ajdjjs idk man what are my options 😭😭😭
In honor of the recent 10 year anniversary of the ending of How I Met Your Mother, I wanted to post this quote. The show had a lot of ups and downs and an obviously controversial ending, but I genuinely have loved some of the life lessons sprinkled throughout. I think about this quote a lot.
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