✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

kiki ⊹♡⋆˚ 28 ⊹♡⋆˚ she/her

[kiki-freak]

kiki ✩₊˚.⋆ she/her ✩₊˚.⋆ 28

about me & what i write ✩₊˚.⋆ masterlist

⚠︎ this blog contains +18 and dark contents ! minors and antis dni !.

⊹♡⋆˚currently obssesing over jjk and kny

⊹♡⋆˚requests are open !!

⊹♡⋆˚my inspo writers !! @sixxels ; @indiewritesxoxo ; @swearimnevergivingup ; @classyrbf ; @carriedlikeabriefcase ; @vrystalius ; @onuz ; i love them sm ˃͈◡˂͈

dividers by @dollywons !

kiki-freak © feel free to share my works but pls don't edit it or feed it to ai :( fuck ai !! ☹︎

[shiruigami]

GROUP CHAT WITH MY EXES 💬

in which you’re bored af so you make a group chat with your ex boyfriends

content: aged up jjk characters, language, crude humor, more comedy than romance, reader is a certified playaaaa™, highkey everyone needs to be jailed bro

exes: gojo, geto, nanami, naoya, toji, yuta, sukuna

[shiruigami]

🔖 tags: @lucyienne @colortheoryrocks @celestialhvns @16llui @Kekeanna266 @nishinoya-senpaai @undedin @heartfushi-main @softtashoney @claymoreshaze @yoshinorecommends @rookicookie @wqsrs @colortheoryrocks @yoshinorecommends @luckybunnyx @icreamcake @@estella-novella

sign up for the taglist here !! if you want to be removed, send me an ask c:

[kiki-freak]

dadkuna x daughter reader ✩₊˚.⋆

Sukuna being your father is kinda nice.

you've learnt to love him the way he is. although he doesn't always remember special dates like your birthday, or your graduation, or your medical appointments—you get it. he's not world's best dad.

but when he does remember, he's gifting you expensive presents like a designer bag, buying that make up collection you've talked about once, getting you a reservation at a nice restaurant that makes your favorite food (just in the way you like it).

he loves you. in a way only a father could do. even if he never says it out loud.

you know he does when his aching cock is mapping your insides, angling his hips to hit that spongy spot while he presses down your clit, leaking pre everytime that bulbous red tip kisses your cervix.

if he didn't, he wouldn't be so invested in trying to make his good little girl cum, right?

“god fucking dammit- this tight little pussy's gonna be the death of me, mama” daddy whispers in your ear as you fuck yourself back onto his cock, the slap slap slap! of skin echoing through the room. big veiny hands gripping at your ass, spreading your cheeks open to watch you swallow him whole, disappearing inside you every time they jiggle when they ripple on his pelvis. “yeah, that's right, fuck your fat ass back on daddy. show me how much you've learned”

and every damn time you get a new boyfriend, Sukuna is right behind him, observing quietly as you leave your bedroom door half closed, letting him watch while that prick makes a fun of himself poorly eating your pussy, forcing you to fake an orgasm in order to get him to stop slurping your urethra.

and even worse, when they have the audacity to ask “you like it?”, your father's quick to get them out of your chambers, making them wait in the living room for ‘privacy’, feigning a family related emergency that's urgent enough it can't wait.

when in reality, it's your dad who's eating your pussy now, plumbing two thick fingers in, curling them as he sucks on your pretty swollen clit, making you cum in less than a minute, laugh muffled, grunting when you grip his hair, pushing him full-face into your warm cunt.

“ah-! fuck dad, ‘m gonna-hah cum!” slick juices getting his chin soaked, fingering through your orgasm until your moans are nothing but soft whimpers and your legs are closing around his head.

he'll slap your pussy afterwards, finger fucking you into another orgasm out of overstimulation, threatening to never bring a guy as useless like him to his house ever again.

if your boyfriend ever ask about those sounds you'll jokingly admit it's just some kind of roleplay between father and daughter, nothing serious.

"god no! we're not having sex! what kind of wicked mind you have? i can't believe you'd ever thought that about me!"

making him feel bad as he's quick to start apologizing but you're already getting him out of the house, eager for a round two with your dad where he's going to remind you what a real man can do.

so happy to be in this fandom (ˊωˋ*)

might do a fic for this soon <3

[kiki-freak]

Toji helping you open up your hips ✩₊˚.⋆ 18+ MDNI

your kinesiologist recommended you to do some exercises at home that focus on your hips to keep up with the monthly sessions.

she of course makes you do a few of them but an hour’s not enough if you want to see actual results. you’ve already tried yoga though it didn’t seem to work as well as you thought. and so, she gives you a few stretches to make at home.

and Toji is more than happy to oblige with that.

“ah, ah - tsk- now where do you think you're going?” your boyfriend has you in a mean missionary, knees hitting your shoulders as your back arches every time he rolls his hips inside you, absentmindedly shying away from the force of his thrusts, inertia dragging you up on the bed. “didn't ya doctor tell you to loosen up? I'm just helping you here, doll, and free also -heh- ain't you just ungrateful, tch”

calloused palms almost the size of your head grabs at your hips, sliding you down on his dick crudely. fingers dip on the bone, massaging the thickness of it as he pulls out until only the tip's inside.

“you ready, ma? you tell me if it hurts too much. it’s gonna be a biiig stretch, alright?” toji caresses the back of your thighs, hands finding comfort in the space between your hamstrings and calfs, pushing them up to your chest and outwards, spreading your legs wide open, kneecaps slightly touching the sheets below.

the guttural sound that comes out from deep inside you as he plummets his hips back down is like none you’ve ever made before.

“ah! toji- s-stop! ‘s too much- i- i can’t-hng!” you scream, face contorting in pain, hands flying to his shoulders, desperately clawing and pushing at his chest, trying (and failing) to get his weight off of your body. 

Toji scoffs dryly at your feeble attempts to rub him off before he starts resting his full mass further on top of you, bearing all the pressure on your hips, muscles and tendons fighting for a break.

“i know mama, i know. relax f'me, take a deep breath. you're doing so well already-hah fuck” his smirking face comes closer to yours, licking a long stripe from your jaw to your lips, slurping up all whines and whimpers that comes out of your mouth as he leers down to where you’re both connected. “look at that mama, look how well yer takin’ me- you see that?” he chuckles “aha, ya won’t be needin’ no yoga class to spread you open no more doll. i got you here. doctor's got you, understand?”

you’re absentmindedly nodding along to his every word as tears start rolling down your face at the overstimulation, the pain on your hips was so unbearable not even in your physiotherapy sessions you’ve felt it this intense before, the aching tight muscles getting stretched out soooo nice and deep it’s overwhelming.

yet you're finding yourself angling your pelvis upwards to meet the brutality of his thrusts. his hands slip down between your bodies, fingers skimming over the adductors, massaging the tense muscles thoroughly, thumbs pressing down a specific spot that makes you instinctively twitch, a loud moan released from your throat as your legs start spasming, threatening to close on their own.

“there we go, found the spot. ya like it when I touch you here, mm, baby? tell me. tell doctor toji what ya feelin’, want me to stop?”

a deep feeling from the depths of your core starts rising at the pressure like bile to your mouth. an intense urge to cry, trash and scream overwhelms you, as if your entire nervous system completely deregulated itself on the click of a switch. too many sensations and emotions at the same time while his movements never faltered even a little bit. instead, a thumb glides over sweaty skin to your clit, encircling it in slow motions, pressing down just the slightest, the bulbous tip of his cock touching your g-spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“oh f-fuck, toji don’t stop. please, please- it’s so-!” words get swallowed down again by his mouth making out with your lips, tongue darting out at the back of your throat, feeling it vibrate by the grunts and moans of each as he feels the way your pussy start spasming down on him, “tojiii ‘m gonna-!” you get to whine out before an orgasm rips through, pulling a long cry out of you, voice cracking as your whole body convulses under his weight. his own climax crashing down soon after with a soft groan, gripping at your hips and fucking you through it.

“fuck yes, mama, that’s right- hah, knew y’could do that f'me. doctor’s really proud of ya”

immediately after the rough session toji aids you to clean yourself, running a warm bath for the both of you to give you a good massage (and a few painkillers), and lets you rest for the night.

throughout the next few days he’s making jokes when you’re asking for help doing mundane stuff like getting out of bed or sitting down, stating that doctor toji’s willing to take the pain away if you let him.

and you’re regretting even indulging him in when he insist in going with you to the next kinesiology appointment, where your actual doctor’s pleasantly claiming your hips flexibility got so much better since the last time, asking what kind of physical therapy you’ve been practicing, and looking over suspiciously when your face gets heated and toji’s only smirking without a word.

it hits you just how much money you’ve thrown away after barely thirty minutes, when she’s dismissing you with a polite smile, and you realize Toji has actually done a better job at this than the woman previously seated on the fancy chair across from you.

while his methods might not be medical-approved, they’ve certainly felt more effective than yoga.

[kiki-freak]

dadkuna x daughter reader ✩₊˚.⋆

Sukuna being your father is kinda nice.

you've learnt to love him the way he is. although he doesn't always remember special dates like your birthday, or your graduation, or your medical appointments—you get it. he's not world's best dad.

but when he does remember, he's gifting you expensive presents like a designer bag, buying that make up collection you've talked about once, getting you a reservation at a nice restaurant that makes your favorite food (just in the way you like it).

he loves you. in a way only a father could do. even if he never says it out loud.

you know he does when his aching cock is mapping your insides, angling his hips to hit that spongy spot while he presses down your clit, leaking pre everytime that bulbous red tip kisses your cervix.

if he didn't, he wouldn't be so invested in trying to make his good little girl cum, right?

“god fucking dammit- this tight little pussy's gonna be the death of me, mama” daddy whispers in your ear as you fuck yourself back onto his cock, the slap slap slap! of skin echoing through the room. big veiny hands gripping at your ass, spreading your cheeks open to watch you swallow him whole, disappearing inside you every time they jiggle when they ripple on his pelvis. “yeah, that's right, fuck your fat ass back on daddy. show me how much you've learned”

and every damn time you get a new boyfriend, Sukuna is right behind him, observing quietly as you leave your bedroom door half closed, letting him watch while that prick makes a fun of himself poorly eating your pussy, forcing you to fake an orgasm in order to get him to stop slurping your urethra.

and even worse, when they have the audacity to ask “you like it?”, your father's quick to get them out of your chambers, making them wait in the living room for ‘privacy’, feigning a family related emergency that's urgent enough it can't wait.

when in reality, it's your dad who's eating your pussy now, plumbing two thick fingers in, curling them as he sucks on your pretty swollen clit, making you cum in less than a minute, laugh muffled, grunting when you grip his hair, pushing him full-face into your warm cunt.

“ah-! fuck dad, ‘m gonna-hah cum!” slick juices getting his chin soaked, fingering through your orgasm until your moans are nothing but soft whimpers and your legs are closing around his head.

he'll slap your pussy afterwards, finger fucking you into another orgasm out of overstimulation, threatening to never bring a guy as useless like him to his house ever again.

if your boyfriend ever ask about those sounds you'll jokingly admit it's just some kind of roleplay between father and daughter, nothing serious.

"god no! we're not having sex! what kind of wicked mind you have? i can't believe you'd ever thought that about me!"

making him feel bad as he's quick to start apologizing but you're already getting him out of the house, eager for a round two with your dad where he's going to remind you what a real man can do.

so happy to be in this fandom (ˊωˋ*)

might do a fic for this soon <3

[kiki-freak]

omg i'm really close to hitting 100 followers!!!! (≧∇≦)/

i'm so nervous about it idk what to do omg omg im thinking i should write my very first fic for this blog??id love some ideas!! ໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১

[kiki-freak]

masterlist ⊹♡⋆˚

JJK

✩₊˚.⋆piss kink with geto pt. 2

✩₊˚.⋆analsex with choso

✩₊˚.⋆gynecologist sukuna ft. obstetrician toji

✩₊˚.⋆toji opening up your hips

KNY

✩₊˚.⋆hashiras eating pussy (hcs)

banner by M.ayra on pinterest and dividers by @/dollywons !!

[kiki-freak]

Toji helping you open up your hips ✩₊˚.⋆ 18+ MDNI

your kinesiologist recommended you to do some exercises at home that focus on your hips to keep up with the monthly sessions.

she of course makes you do a few of them but an hour’s not enough if you want to see actual results. you’ve already tried yoga though it didn’t seem to work as well as you thought. and so, she gives you a few stretches to make at home.

and Toji is more than happy to oblige with that.

“ah, ah - tsk- now where do you think you're going?” your boyfriend has you in a mean missionary, knees hitting your shoulders as your back arches every time he rolls his hips inside you, absentmindedly shying away from the force of his thrusts, inertia dragging you up on the bed. “didn't ya doctor tell you to loosen up? I'm just helping you here, doll, and free also -heh- ain't you just ungrateful, tch”

calloused palms almost the size of your head grabs at your hips, sliding you down on his dick crudely. fingers dip on the bone, massaging the thickness of it as he pulls out until only the tip's inside.

“you ready, ma? you tell me if it hurts too much. it’s gonna be a biiig stretch, alright?” toji caresses the back of your thighs, hands finding comfort in the space between your hamstrings and calfs, pushing them up to your chest and outwards, spreading your legs wide open, kneecaps slightly touching the sheets below.

the guttural sound that comes out from deep inside you as he plummets his hips back down is like none you’ve ever made before.

“ah! toji- s-stop! ‘s too much- i- i can’t-hng!” you scream, face contorting in pain, hands flying to his shoulders, desperately clawing and pushing at his chest, trying (and failing) to get his weight off of your body. 

Toji scoffs dryly at your feeble attempts to rub him off before he starts resting his full mass further on top of you, bearing all the pressure on your hips, muscles and tendons fighting for a break.

“i know mama, i know. relax f'me, take a deep breath. you're doing so well already-hah fuck” his smirking face comes closer to yours, licking a long stripe from your jaw to your lips, slurping up all whines and whimpers that comes out of your mouth as he leers down to where you’re both connected. “look at that mama, look how well yer takin’ me- you see that?” he chuckles “aha, ya won’t be needin’ no yoga class to spread you open no more doll. i got you here. doctor's got you, understand?”

you’re absentmindedly nodding along to his every word as tears start rolling down your face at the overstimulation, the pain on your hips was so unbearable not even in your physiotherapy sessions you’ve felt it this intense before, the aching tight muscles getting stretched out soooo nice and deep it’s overwhelming.

yet you're finding yourself angling your pelvis upwards to meet the brutality of his thrusts. his hands slip down between your bodies, fingers skimming over the adductors, massaging the tense muscles thoroughly, thumbs pressing down a specific spot that makes you instinctively twitch, a loud moan released from your throat as your legs start spasming, threatening to close on their own.

“there we go, found the spot. ya like it when I touch you here, mm, baby? tell me. tell doctor toji what ya feelin’, want me to stop?”

a deep feeling from the depths of your core starts rising at the pressure like bile to your mouth. an intense urge to cry, trash and scream overwhelms you, as if your entire nervous system completely deregulated itself on the click of a switch. too many sensations and emotions at the same time while his movements never faltered even a little bit. instead, a thumb glides over sweaty skin to your clit, encircling it in slow motions, pressing down just the slightest, the bulbous tip of his cock touching your g-spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“oh f-fuck, toji don’t stop. please, please- it’s so-!” words get swallowed down again by his mouth making out with your lips, tongue darting out at the back of your throat, feeling it vibrate by the grunts and moans of each as he feels the way your pussy start spasming down on him, “tojiii ‘m gonna-!” you get to whine out before an orgasm rips through, pulling a long cry out of you, voice cracking as your whole body convulses under his weight. his own climax crashing down soon after with a soft groan, gripping at your hips and fucking you through it.

“fuck yes, mama, that’s right- hah, knew y’could do that f'me. doctor’s really proud of ya”

immediately after the rough session toji aids you to clean yourself, running a warm bath for the both of you to give you a good massage (and a few painkillers), and lets you rest for the night.

throughout the next few days he’s making jokes when you’re asking for help doing mundane stuff like getting out of bed or sitting down, stating that doctor toji’s willing to take the pain away if you let him.

and you’re regretting even indulging him in when he insist in going with you to the next kinesiology appointment, where your actual doctor’s pleasantly claiming your hips flexibility got so much better since the last time, asking what kind of physical therapy you’ve been practicing, and looking over suspiciously when your face gets heated and toji’s only smirking without a word.

it hits you just how much money you’ve thrown away after barely thirty minutes, when she’s dismissing you with a polite smile, and you realize Toji has actually done a better job at this than the woman previously seated on the fancy chair across from you.

while his methods might not be medical-approved, they’ve certainly felt more effective than yoga.

[kittyjaws]

Idk if you’re open for requests but think about dad toji fucking daughter reader on the couch while mother is cooking in the kitchen. And Toji whispers sweet nothings in her ears and degrades her as he chokes her so that they don’t get caught. Btw love your fics

cw incest

your back laid flat against the couch. you could hear the noises of your mother cooking some soup for dinner. your mother, oh your poor mother. she didn’t even know that her husband was rutting into you, his own daughter, right on the couch she was just sitting on. you wonder what she’d do if she found out. who would she be mad at? him, you, both?

you never wanted her to find out. which is precisely why you were trying your absolute hardest to keep it down. but it was you sunk your teeth into tojis rough shoulder, but your moans were still so loud, even while muffled :(.

then, he thrusted into you particularly hard, and you yelped. both you and toji froze in fear, in fear of your mothering coming to check what’s happening.

then you heard it– her usually soft voice booming loudly from the kitchen. “everything okay in there?”

toji instantly spoke up, “everything’s fine, jus’ keep cookin’!”

you let out a sigh of relief, breathing heavy and steadying your heart rate. until both toji’s hands slid up to your neck, and squeezed. he resumed his pace, right back to fucking you into the couch.

“you want your mom to come in and see this? huh? you wanna get me in trouble or somethin’? dumb bitch..” he whispered under his breath, just loud enough so you could hear him. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words could come out. he was choking you too hard. instead, you just shook your head desperately and brung your hands up to scratch at his wrists.

he scoffed and sped up the pace, being more aggressive now. you definitely made him mad. “what an attention whore,”

he laughed at your pathetically open mouth, but nothing coming out of it. your eyes started to tear up and your throat dried. conveniently– as if he knew, he spit right into your mouth.

his body was pressed tightly against yours, covering your entire self. the head of his cock repeatedly punched against the spongy area inside your pussy. you don’t know if that or the joking was what was making your eyes roll back into your head.

“fffuck— i’m gonna cum, baby, keep being quiet for daddy.” he squeezed his eyes shut as he finished inside of you, not daring to pull out.

his hands released your throat as he sat back up and started putting his pants back on. you gasped for air, hands coming up to rub at your sore throat. finger-shaped marks were already beginning to form around your neck.

toji looked at your squirming body, and then down to were his cum was leaking out of you. “go clean yourself up, this is disgusting. and cover that up before your mother sees it.” he gestured at the bruises forming on your neck, and sat right back down to his previous position, taking a long sip of his beer.

[kiki-freak]

⋆.𐙚˚.°.₊˚⊹♡⋆˚anal sex w choso <3

CW: smut, ass eating (f!receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected piv, unprotected anal, Choso goes feral for your ass, kinda dom!choso

+18 content. minors dni.

The steamy make out session with your boyfriend had gotten longer and longer, way much more than you intended, barely getting to the bedroom in one piece, you adjust the towel covering your body as he folds you to the edge of the bed, humping your ass through his own towel, dangerously low around his hips.

Choso grunts, his usual pigtails gone, replaced by a loose wet hair, cold droplets falling to the clothed wall beneath both. He snatches the fluffy fabric out of your body along his own, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

He pushes you by the neck face down to the mattress, sandwiching his cock into your butt cheeks, gripping at them, fondling, pinching and spanking. He bites his lip as he watches it jiggle by the movements of his pelvis, both hands opening them up and spitting on your puckering asshole, gliding and feeling it fluttering under his protruding veins. Holding his dick with thick fingers, he taps at your hole, nudging the tip raw until you scurry away from his grasp.

“Ah-ngh-! Choso!” you glare at him from over your shoulder, moving your ass out of his sight, clutching it like you were protecting it.

“Sorry! Sorry! It was calling to me…” he backs down, hands hovering in the air. He strides to the bedside table where multiple bottles of lube shift at opening the drawer. Choso thinks for a few moments and it's so cute to see his lips pout and eyes dart over all the different options. He retreats the vanilla scented one. Edible too.

As he turns to you, his gaze softens almost immediately, throwing the bottle on the bed and jumping right after, caging you between his arms to steal a small kiss, one that develops into a deeper one, open-mouthed and wet, pinching your chin to keep you in place as a gasp comes out of your lips.

“Mmf-! What's - ah - gotten into you?” the question leaves as soon as you break it to breathe, chest heaving. His eyes find yours with such a desire you feel intimidated.

“I'm sorry. I'm just, really excited about… well, this” he gestures at the situation and it's not hard to believe given how much he worships your bottom everytime you walk with something a liiitle bit short and bend down, or when he's fucking your pussy from behind and his thumb can't stop from grazing at the rim of your tight hole, calling to him, as he points out every time.

You giggle, and he feels his heart start beating faster inside his chest. “Well then… don't keep me waiting, Cho” you slip out of his embrace, changing positions so now you're on all fours, pussy glistening and dripping onto the sheets below, breath hitching in anticipation as he watches you move on your own. Your scent mixed with the cheap floral soap intoxicates his nostrils and for a moment he regrets agreeing to this after showering, a little disappointed he won't get to taste that tangy flavor you have after a long day, that he loves so much.

Choso finds a comfortable position and you feel his breath fanning your cunt, giving you goosebumps. His fingers graze your pussy lips, parting them open as his index caress your folds, from the entrance to your mound, tracing absent patterns before thrusting it inside and thumbing your clit in slow circles. Hard eyes fix on the way your pussy is sucking him in eagerly, happily making noises of pleasure, matching the ones coming out of your mouth. Another finger makes its way inside, not exactly hitting any particular spot but scissoring them, like he's prepping you. You're not about to complain but it wasn't what you agreed on.

Before you could say anything, he retreats them out, replacing it with his tongue, licking a fat stripe from your clitoris all the way to your ass, building a big chunk of saliva and spitting it out on your hole, watching it slowly drip down. Choso gropes your ass cheeks, splitting them open and smearing the thick fluid with the flat of his tongue, tracing every line, every wrinkle of your clenching rim, slowly trying to fit his tongue inside but meeting resistance. He hums, looking at it biting down on nothing. Snatching the lube bottle he squeezes a good amount on your ass and another one on his middle finger, spreading the slick fluid in leisure circles before inserting it slowly to the brim, making you jolt from the change of temperature.

“Ahah-! Choso! A little warning first?” you arch your back, the new sensation uncomfortable but pleasing on its own, somehow wanting, no, needing more.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, stunned by the way your ass is sucking his finger so greedily, urged to fit right in and feel it spasm around his fat cock. He almost moans at the thought, biting his lip, gripping at your love handles for support. “I'm putting another one” and does exactly that, squeezing out a big spurt of lube, fingering your hole in slow, scissoring motions. Choso pushes his dick between your folds and thrusts in tandem, slick gushes out, coating his angry red tip in a glistening pink, pre-cum oozes out and onto the sheets below as his hand shoves your face back into mattress, seizing a grip on your neck for support.

“You - oh, fuck - look so good like this- nngh” voice trembling and panting in between, “I…I really hope you're - ah- enjoying this as much as I am” he watches how you're letting get manhandled as he please, legs so far apart and spine arched so deep you'll probably be aching by tomorrow. Responding so in sync at the first touch, like your body knows exactly where to go and what to do, fitting into his palm so perfectly in an intense connection.

“Mmm, I'm loving this Cho, trust me -ah!” another finger pushes in, as the same time his mushroom tip is prodding at your pussy, already so wet and dripping, slipping the first inch with experimental thrusts and meeting almost no resistance, cunt receiving his cock with grace, tightening around it as if personally offended she's not being the center of attention tonight. Choso slides his cock aaall the way inside until his pubes are near your perineum, letting that sweet pussy spasm around his shaft, still trying to adapt to the huge intrusion before he pulls out and you whimper in protest, at the same time he's taking out his fingers, watching both holes clenching down on nothing.

“I'm going in baby, are you okay?” hands on both sides of your hips, caressing the fat of the skin in soft patterns. You mumble out a yes as he jerks a few times, getting the lube all over his shaft and guiding it to your rim with a thumb parting your cheeks. “Tell me to stop”, he shudders while slowly forcing himself inside.

“Nngh, f-fuck!”

“Oh God, this feels so good. It's so -ah! tight- soft, so warm.. ngh- so tight” you're looking over your shoulder and the scene is pornographic. Choso has his eyes closed shut, the tattoo wrinkling on his nose and his head tilted backwards, blabbering incoherences. Hair down and already half dry, bobbing in sync with his thrusts, his abs tightening in each one. And shit, there's a thin layer of sweat coating his skin, making it look shiny, big droplets running down his torso, following the happy trail below.

When you look up to his face you find Choso's already staring at you, a soft smile adorning his lips and you can't help but feel flustered. It wasn't the fact he's fucking your ass, (okay yes, it is), but it's also him, who has you in this chokehold.

“Nngh, shit- I'm g-gonna burst if you keep clenching around me like that, babe” he moans, jiggling the fat of your ass cheeks, pinching and groping at the skin, pulling them back to meet his fierce rams. Strong arms fly to the sides of your head, chest caressing your back, as his movements become erratic, sloppy, the slick of the lube making sloshing sounds along the hard skin to skin contact.

“‘S good, fuck, ‘tso warm and tight- holy shit” he's whining in your ear, heavy balls hitting at your other entrance as two fingers sneaks down to stimulate your wet and swollen clit, pussy gaping on air and begging for attention.

Your moans fill the room, the tight feeling on your core boiling like a pot about to overflow, arching your back impossibly lower as you fuck yourself into him, riding the nearing orgasm until his thrusts start getting heedless and uncoordinated.

“N-no, no! Don't move like that-fuck! I'm gonna-!” Choso cries, attempting to pull out but failing miserably, your ass sucking him with so much force he's cumming inside your plush walls, hands clutching at the skin of your ass so hard his nails draw blood. Molars clenching, he's riding out his orgasm in deep messy plunges, emptying his balls to the last drop.

He waits until his dick is flaccid to pull out, collapsing on top of you, arms rested on the mattress to avoid crushing you completely. He then grasps your chin to engulf you in a hot kiss, mumbling between each one.

“I'm sorry.” Choso turns you over, still trying to catch his breath, eyes searching for a hint of disappointment or anger in your face while holding you close. “I-I'll make it up to you, I will. I'm sorry”

“Cho, it's okay, I'm not mad” you giggle out your words, amused by how touched he is by this.

“No, it's not, I'm sorry. I.. I should have-” you kiss his mouth shut, caressing his face, admiring how pretty he is all fucked out, finding an ego boost in the fact you made him like that.

“Shh, Cho, why don't you eat me out in the shower, mmh?” his face lightens up at the thought, ears perked up like a pup, arms holding you tighter in excitement.

“Okay! I'll get the bath started!"

was going to be a short drabble of him eating your ass but couldn't help it he's such an ass mannn ♡

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

off limits ~ r.sukuna || 18+

wc: 21k || art creds: @/679sora || based on this ask !

summary ! smut, angst, fluff, comfort, forbidden relationships, slight sattosugu x reader, older people fucking younger people, ddde) after finally turning 18, you're completely thrown into sukuna, your older brothers beast of a friend's rotation. after years of incessant teasing, banter, and acting out, your once rocky relationship spirals into a heated back and forth of forbidden love between you and your brother's best friend.

"so, y/n, you getting laid this summer?" maki's teasing voice rang through your phone speaker as you sat cross legged on your bed.

"hmm, maybe. if anything i want some older guys, someone mature."

"rightttt, i thought you said gojo and geto were too much last time?" she pushed, your face went red as you turned down your speaker volume. you weren't proud of yourself last summer, you were young, dumb, and very impressionable to the much older pair who wanted to experience the whole 'barely legal' thing.

"okay watch me kill myself, my brothers in the other room maki! what if he heard that?!" you scolded, her laugh was telling enough that she didn't care. just retorted with some information you probly should of gone without. "i dunno, toji'd probly kill you. anyways, geto was talking to me last week, says he misses your quote on quote 'allure', whatever the hell that means."

you groan, "tell me about it. gojo won't stop blowing up my phone with new creative ways to ask me if i'm down to fuck."

"it's like they're in a competition to see who can get in your pants first this summer, god they're obsessed," she giggled. "i mean who can blame them, you're the hottest chick in our rotation."

you smile but can't help but tease. "rotation? so you're saying i'm just another roster chick?" maki just snickers and changes the topic. "i hear sukuna's been over your house a lot, how about you go for him. he's sexy, tall, tatted up, drives a motorcycle, older, he's easily available-"

"okay, first, he's always been coming round that's nothing new, second he's a fucking asshole, maki. and my brothers best friend. i'd rather choke on naoya's dick than even touch sukuna."

she trys her best not to laugh on the other end, "wow, and that's saying something... can't tell me you haven't thought about it before though, hate-fucking's a thing."

a pulse ran through your body, sure you'd thought about sukuna from time to time. late at night when it was just you and your thoughts, when you could hear him talking shit with toji from down the hall with that deep voice, but the idea disappeared as soon as it came. you shook the thought out of your head before making up some dumb excuse about needing to go get a drink, leaving maki with her teasing thoughts and a dead line.

.

you don’t even think twice when you pad down the stairs, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, hair messy from the afternoon heat. it’s summer and the sun has been baking the house since dawn, so you’ve been living in tank tops and thin pajama shorts for days now.

your first year at university was finally over. no lectures, no stupid assignments, no responsibilities for six. whole. weeks. just you, your snacks, and the rare bliss of doing whatever the fuck you want, legal or not.

the problem is, you’re never alone in this god damned house. someone's always got an eye out for you and your bad habits.

you catch the sound of voices before you even step off the last stair. familiar and very masculine.

one of them is unmistakable, that deep tone you’ve known your whole life. toji, your brother. but there’s another voice, one that crawls under your skin the second it hits your ears. its smoother and raspier, sukuna.

of course he’s here. of course he’s sitting in your living room at 4 p.m. like he owns the damn place.

he's your next-door neighbor, your brother’s best friend, the permanent leech hovering around your house chucking insults at you every chance he gets.

your families are so tangled together that you swear the twenty something year old spends more time here than in his own home. your mother thinks it’s sweet and your brother calls it a convenient coincidence, everyone else calls it “brotherly banter” when he’s got your name in his mouth 24/7.

but you know better. you know the tone of voice in a man who's a little more protective than he seems on the surface. whenever you get into trouble or any sort of bad situation, parties until sunrise, smoking with maki, messing around with guys, he'd be scolding you alongside your parents and brother like an annoying pest. like he had any right?

you hesitate for only a second at the bottom step, silently praying you can slip into the pantry unnoticed by the older males. but luck has never been your friend where sukuna is involved.

he’s slouched on the couch, one arm falling along the backrest, his broad shoulders stretching the thin fabric of his black tee, tattoos visible out from under the sleeves, crawling down the veins of his arm. he's the tallest, most intimidating guy you'd ever seen, and that's saying something considering toji's your brother.

6'6 of pure muscle, tattoos and fucking ego.

he glances up the moment your bare legs come into view, gaze dragging slow and unhurried, as if he has every right to look. and god, he does look. from the thin strap of your tank top slipping down your shoulder to the way your shorts barely cover the tops of your thighs. his mouth twists at the corner, sharp and knowing, a predator’s smirk.

“well, look at this,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement, leaning forward just enough to rest his forearms on his knees. “it's your gross little sister.”

you should’ve stayed upstairs.

you should’ve thrown on sweats, should’ve remembered that where there’s toji, sukuna is never far behind.

“shut it,” toji cuts in, tone hard and final. he shifts his gaze to you "better not think of doing something sketchy, brat." your brother’s always been like that, standing between you and anything he doesn’t trust.

"god, can't i grab something to eat without you assholes bouncing on my tip." you push, chucking the ups at sukuna as you walk closer to the kitchen.

"she's got spunk today, i like it."

"i'll kill you bro, shut up." toji retorted, taking a mouthful of his booze.

sukuna doesn’t seem fazed. if anything, his grin only sharpens, “oh relax, just making an observation.” his eyes flick back to you, trapping you in place like you’re pinned beneath a spotlight. “nothing wrong with appreciation.”

“you just called her gross, how is that appreciation, dick head,” toji rolls his eyes with that bored look.

god you want to crawl in a hole and die, can this guy stop shooting bullets through you?!

everything about him is designed to get under your skin, the way he walks into your house like he belongs there and the way he walks into your room like it's his god given right to, the way his comments toe the line between playful and something nasty. and the worst part? everyone else laughs it off, calls it harmless teasing, except toji ofcourse, but he's not the issue.

you clear your throat, forcing your legs to move, heading straight for the pantry as if you can pretend you’re not squirming under sukuna’s gaze. you keep your eyes down, grab the first bag of chips you see, but you can still feel him watching you.

the bag of chips crinkles in your grip as you make a beeline for the stairs, heart hammering too fast. you tell yourself you’re annoyed, that you can’t stand the way he opens his mouth and makes your skin burn. but as you climb the steps two at a time, you know that’s only half the truth.

once you leave, the living room becomes quiet before toji decides to speak up.

"that little shit gets into enough trouble as it is, ryo. don't need you winding her up n' making her act up any more."

"oh give it a rest, toji. i look out for her too."

~

your room has always been your little sanctuary. four pale walls lined with little collages from highschool, shelves sagging under the weight of manga, paperbacks, and dusty trinkets you’ve collected since you were a kid.

it’s a lil messy but hey, its you. clothes in piles on the chair, open notebooks scattered across your desk, fairy lights drooping at uneven intervals across your wall. an uncharacteristically perfect room for someone so notorious for acting up.

your bed is your throne though, a mountain of fluffy blankets and mismatched pillows that swallow you whole.

tonight is no different, you’re sprawled out in the nest, propped up on your elbows with your phone lighting up your pretty face.

your tank top is practically glued to you, pajama shorts riding up as you shift against the sheets.

its so nice and peaceful, but in the back of your mind, you know he’s still lurking around somewhere, loud infuriating. and worse, when sukuna sleeps over, it means his presence lingers late into the night, infecting every corner of your house. you tell yourself he’ll stick to your brother’s room, maybe crash on the couch with a beer in hand, but you know better.

you know him.

the crash comes, the slam of your door against the wall, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“what the hell-" you start, pushing yourself upright, phone slipping out of your hand.

and there he is. filling your doorway like he owns the place, shirtless and cocky, tattoos sharp like smoke over skin stretched taut with thick muscle.

shit, don't stare.

he’s barefoot with his sweatpants hanging very low exposing his cut v-line, he looks every inch like he just rolled out of bed, but there’s that fuck ass grin on his face.

“jesus, asshole, ever heard of knocking?” you snap, scrambling upright to pull the hem of your shorts lower and the neck of your top higher.

“knocking?” he repeats lazily, voice rough from sleep, dragging across the room as if he’s already bored of you. “this house is basically mine, sweetheart. no need to knock when i’m home.”

oh my god can he get any more insufferable?

he says it so casually, like he hasn’t just barged into your space uninvited like this isn’t your room, your private little haven.

you groan and flop back onto your bed. “can you like... get out?”

but he doesn’t leave, instead, he scoffs and walks in further, eyes falling over your shelves, desk, bedspread. he’s cataloguing it all, you can tell, waiting to rip you apart for it.

and then he starts touching shit.

“sukuna- don’t-” your voice pitches higher as he reaches for the first shelf, dragging his fingers across spines of your manga before yanking one free. he flips through it like it’s a brochure, expression blank, before tossing it onto the floor.

“what the fuck is this? you still into kiddie comics?” he scoffs, a lazy look yet his eyes scream with something deeper, possession.

“they’re not comics, fuck face,” you bite out, rushing to pick it up before the pages crinkle.

“sure,” he hums, already moving on. he plucks up a tiny snow globe, shaking it violently so the glitter storm inside whirls, then lets it fall back onto the shelf with a dull clink. “real sophisticated taste you’ve got here. does mommy still buy these for you?”

you clench your fists. it’s the same every time, him tearing through your things like they’re nothing, mocking your choices, dragging you back down to the role of little sister he thinks you’ll never escape.

“sorry i don't collect boring cookie cutter bullshit like the hoes you screw. put it down!” you warn through gritted teeth.

he ignores you, grabbing a stuffed keychain and dangling it from one finger before flicking it across the room.

“stop!” you’re off the bed now, rushing over as he reaches higher.

and then he grabs it. the one thing he shouldn’t.

your fragile little glass strawberry sculpture. a stupid gift you picked up at a summer market years ago, delicate and tiny, a perfect little red fruit frozen in glass. it’s silly, but it’s yours, and it’s survived moves, fights, and careless hands, until now.

“don’t you fucking dare,” you breathe, voice sharp with panic as he holds it up between two fingers.

sukuna’s grin spreads slow and wicked, his red eyes glittering with recognition of just how much this matters. “this ugly little thing?”

“give it.” you step forward, hand outstretched.

“nah,” he says, lifting it higher, well out of reach. at his full height, he towers over you, arm stretched so easily it might as well be suspended from the ceiling.

“i’m not playing with you, sukuna,” you snap, jumping up, fingers brushing his wrist.

“you think i am?” he teases, shifting just enough to keep it away, his grin deepening as you strain. “c’mon, short stack, jump higher.”

your chest burns with fury. you hate this shit.

“you’re a fucking child,” you spit, trying again, nails catching his skin.

and that’s when he pounces.

sudden and dominant. his free hand shoots out, grabs your wrist, and in the next breath your back slams against the wall. the fragile strawberry glints in his other hand as he cages you in, his arm braced beside your head, his body close enough that the heat of him makes your skin prickle. lips so close, one wrong move and they'd connect.

your heart stutters, skips, then races.

he leans down, breath ghosting across your cheek. “careful,” he murmurs, almost too soft. “you’re gonna break it.”

your stomach knots. not just from the glass strawberry but from the weight of him, the deliberate trap he’s set.

“get off me,” you whisper hiss, trying to twist away, but his grip on your wrist tightens, pinning you.

“funny,” he says, voice lowering to a purr. “you never fight this hard when i’m in your space. makes me think you like it.”

“you’re delusional,” you snap, though your voice cracks.

his smiles wider then tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze to meet his. “y’know what else makes me think that?” he drawls, his eyes narrowing with dangerous amusement. “that little phone call you had earlier.”

your blood runs cold.

“w-what?"

“oh, don’t play dumb, pretty,” he cuts you off, thumb brushing the corner of your jaw. “you really think i couldn’t hear you downstairs? house has paper thin walls. every word about gojo. geto. about me.”

your chest caves in, shame clawing hot and sharp at your throat.

“that’s… that’s not-”

“don’t bother lying,” he says, pressing closer, his voice like a blade. “you said i was an asshole. that you’d rather choke on naoya’s dick than touch me.” his smile doesn’t reach his eyes now. “real sweet of you to say, by the way. i like to hold myself to a higher standard than that woman hater.”

your heart slams against your ribs. he heard it all. every reckless word you threw at maki.

“sukuna, i didn’t-”

“hurts my feelings,” he interrupts, mocking a pout. “here i thought we had something special. all those years of me giving you my attention, my concern, and you talk about me like that?” his gaze held something below the surface, like what he was saying ran deeper than stupid teasing.

you try to yank your wrist free, but he doesn’t budge.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

he chuckles low, shaking his head like you’ve said something cute. “maybe. but you know what’s worse, honey?” his grin returns “if you don’t drop the attitude, i could tell toji everything.”

your breath catches.

“what-”

“about you fucking gojo and geto,” he says, voice dripping with venomous amusement. “how his precious little sister’s nothing but a slut for his old collage friends. can you imagine the look on his face?”

panic spikes through you, stomach plummeting.

“you wouldn’t,”

“wouldn’t i?” he cuts in, tilting his head. “gojo and geto are a lot older than you, sweetheart. toji wouldn't be too happy about that, and you know me. you know i’d enjoy it. watching him lose his shit, maybe kick your boyfriends’ asses, maybe yours too.” there's a different look behind his eyes, one that looks like anger, almost disappointment as he talks about your past with the boys.

“they’re not my boyfriends-”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, leaning in until his mouth is by your ear. “what matters is, he’d never look at you the same.”

your body trembles, fury warring with fear, with the electric charge of being this close to him, trapped under the weight of his dominance.

“so here’s the deal,” sukuna murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “you stop running that pretty mouth. you quit with the bitchy attitude you're always giving me, and maybe, just maybe, I can keep my mouth shut about your little summer escapades.”

your teeth clench, nails digging into your palm.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, grin curling cruelly. “sound fair, brat?”

you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the word slips past your lips.

“…okay.”

it comes out small, fragile, like it doesn’t even belong to you.

sukuna’s grin spreads slow, satisfaction swooshing in his eyes as if he’d been waiting for that word all along.

“good girl,” he smiles as he finally eases back. his arm drops from the wall, his grip loosens on your wrist, and suddenly the heavy weight of him pinning you is gone.

for a second, your body sways, disoriented by the space he leaves behind.

then, with infuriating carelessness, he lifts the glass strawberry higher into the light, turns it once in his hand like it’s worthless, and-

"hey! dont!-”

you lunge, but it’s too late. he tosses it behind him with a lazy flick of his wrist, like throwing away a scrap of trash.

you scramble past him, diving across your bed to catch it before it shatters on the hardwood. your hands close around it just in time, heart hammering, chest heaving with relief and rage all tangled together.

“asshole,” you whisper under your breath, clutching the fragile thing to your chest.

“hm?” his deep voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a knife.

you freeze. did he hear you? urgh, of course he did. his hearing is sharp as hell, you’ve always known that.

but when you turn your head, he’s already at the door, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, muscles flexing under tattoos. he looks relaxed, almost lazy, like he didn’t just corner you, threaten to ruin your life, and wring a broken promise out of you.

“thought i heard something,” he says lightly, glancing back at you with that smug smirk. “must’ve been a ghost.”

your face burns, but you clamp your mouth shut, refusing to give him another ounce of satisfaction.

he chuckles under his breath, like your silence is an answer all its own, then pads out into the hall without another word. the door swings shut behind him, leaving you alone with nothing but your racing pulse and the strawberry clutched tight in your hands.

for a long moment, you just sit there, knees pulled to your chest, trying to untangle the mess in your head.

you hate him. you hate yourself more for letting your body react the way it does.

your throat tightens. you shove the strawberry back onto the shelf, careful this time, and flop back onto your bed with a groan. the ceiling fan clicks above, steady and useless, but the heat in your chest doesn’t fade.

you tell yourself you’re just angry. that’s all it is.

.

down the hall, sukuna is grinning.

he closes your door behind him with an easy swing, the sound drowned by the white noise of the house. his smirk hasn’t fallen, not even as he strolls cockily toward toji’s room, rolling his shoulders like he’s just stretched after a nap.

you’d said okay.

that one little word plays on repeat in his head, each time sweeter, each time bending his grin wider.

you’d folded, just like he knew you would. this was his round about way of trying to make things civil between the two of you. for too long had this constant back and forth been a wrench in his final goal of being on good terms with you, so, forcing you to be 'nice' to him was just the first step in the long run.

he pushes open toji’s door without knocking, his best friend is laying on the bed with his phone in hand, looking bored and irritated.

“took you long enough,” toji mutters, tossing his phone aside. “what, decide to rub one out while you were in the bathroom?”

sukuna snorts, flopping down onto the other end of the bed like he owns the space. “yeah, somethin’ like that.”

toji eyes him, disgusted, but doesn’t press. instead, he grabs a controller off the nightstand and tosses it at sukuna, who catches it with one hand already leaning back against the headboard. the screen glows blue with the fifa menu, music blaring low through the tv speakers.

but before toji hits start, he smirks, leaning back on his elbows. “actually, got a better idea.”

sukuna arches a brow. “yeah?”

“couple girls i’ve been talking to,” toji says casually, like it’s nothing. “they’re down to meet up. thought i’d bring you along. a two man, make a night of it.”

normally, that’s an easy yes. girls are simple, fun, disposable, a guaranteed good time. sukuna never says no to an opportunity like that.

but tonight, his mind hesitates.

because when toji says girls, sukuna doesn’t picture nameless faces. he pictures you, pressed up against the wall, eyes wide and furious, lip caught between your pretty teeth.

the way you glared at him. the way you whispered under your breath like it burned your tongue.

his jaw tightens.

“nah,” sukuna says, surprising himself as much as toji. “not feeling it tonight.”

toji frowns. “you? not in the mood for pussy? what, you sick?”

sukuna scoffs, jabbing a button on the controller. “fuck off. just wanna play fifa.”

toji shrugs, unconcerned. “suit yourself.” he grabs his own controller, starts the match, and within seconds they’re both locked in, banter filling the room.

"hm, by the way, did you see y/n in her room? i'm scared she's snuck out again, doing drugs or whatever the fuck she does when she goes out. heard a rucus before."

sukuna just shrugs. "she's not that out of touch, i mean, the worst thing she's done is sneak out to a few parties, right?"

toji just scoffed. "that's all i tell you about, sure. but bro, that girl is seriously bad news when she's unsupervised. scared she's gonna get herself into some seriously messed up stuff..."

"yeah, tell me about it." his mind shoots back to your phone call with maki, wanting to bang an older guy, your carelessness, the possible dangers such an act could bring for you...

for the rest of the night, sukuna's body plays on autopilot, fingers moving without thought, but his mind keeps slipping back to you. the heat of your room. the way you scrambled for that stupid strawberry like it was worth your life. the sound of your voice cracking.

he knows he’s an asshole, he knows he pushes too far, digs too deep. but that’s the point. he wants to see how far you’ll bend before you break. and tonight, he saw it, just a glimpse. for years he's watched you grow up, do risky shit, fuck risky men at horribly low ages, and it fucks him up. truly.

all he wants is for you to be safe and sound at home with your family, but you clearly had other plans. he saw you as the type who wanted to grow up too fast, too hard. but you in your room, in those pyjamas, looking so at his mercy for a girl so wild...

fuck if it doesn’t make his blood run hot.

he shakes the thought away, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

this isn’t him. he doesn’t obsess, he usually doesn’t give a damn about anyone past the moment.

so why the hell is your face burned into the back of his eyelids, even now? after he'd promised himself years ago he would stop fantasising about you?

toji curses beside him, controller rattling as his team misses a shot. sukuna smirks, falling back into the game, letting the noise of fifa drown out the thoughts he doesn’t want to face.

but deep down, beneath the arrogance and the cocky grin, he knows the truth he’ll never admit.

you’ve gotten under his skin.

and that’s a dangerous place for anyone to be, especially someone he can never stop thinking about.

~

"y/n! where the fuck is my razor you little shit!?" your brothers voice booms out thought out the house at a crisp 7.a.m in the morning.

you groan, rub your eyes, and pull yourself out of bed and to your bedroom door to scream back at him. "in the upstairs bathroom!" you yell.

over the sound of the radio in the kitchen and your parents getting ready for work, you hear the loud, over the top groan that toji lets out. you assume he's heading to work, some accounting firm where he somehow does fuck all but gets paid a pretty penny.

you decide to get ready yourself, do somthing nice today as a reward for finishing your first year at uni successfully.

no risky shit, just a clean, honest day out. a nice change of pace.

but the second your brain kicks in, last night comes back to you. sukuna’s weight pinning you to the wall, the way his breath dragged over your ear, the cruel threat he left you with.

you squeeze your eyes shut. fuck.

you can’t sit here and stew over it. you need some air.

so you shower, throw on the prettiest little outfit you own, nice skirt, some stockings, a flattering tank that clings just right, some cute boots, makeup, and perfume that projects. hair done, bag hanging over your shoulder.

your plan is simple, go into town, pick up some bits and pieces, and grab yourself a coffee. minimal human contact, just retail therapy and caffeine. easy. low chance of getting into any trouble.

except nothing’s ever easy in this house.

you’re halfway down the stairs when you smell it first, coffee, strong and bitter. then you hear the clink of a spoon against ceramic.

your stomach drops.

when you step into the kitchen, there he is. leaning against the counter shirtless, tattoos stretched over broad shoulders and chest, muscles flexing lazily with every move. a mug in one hand, phone in the other, like this is his kitchen and not yours.

he looks up when you walk in. red eyes sweep over you slow, from your sneakers to your glossed lips, and that grin that curls across his face.

“well,” he drawls, voice still rough with sleep. “look who decided to play dress up this morning.”

you grit your teeth, moving straight for the door. “don’t start.”

he takes a sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim. “just making an observation. you look… different from last night. put a little effort in for once, huh?” his gaze lingers on your legs, smug and knowing. “where you headed, sweetheart?”

“into town,” you answer curtly, shoving your keys into your bag.

“town, huh?” he echoes, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “dressed like that? lemme guess, you’ve got a little date, maybe with an older guy? one sleazy enough to buy you drugs?”

you roll your eyes, spinning to glare at him for the reference to your phone call with maki. “no. just shopping and coffee,”

sukuna cocks his head, smirk deepening. “sure. shopping and coffee. sounds like code for dick and illegal shit to me.”

you glare at him and quickly add, "shut up. plus, i'm old enough to buy drugs if i wanted to. i don't need some relic to do it for me."

in usual sukuna fashion, he just rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe a word you say. "yeah right, a dealer wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole, honey. you're too bait."

your pulse jumps, but you remember his words from last night, the trap he set. no attitude. no lip.

so you clamp up down on the sharp reply on your tongue, force your voice flat. “believe what you want.”

then you’re out the door before you can betray yourself.

behind you, sukuna exhales a laugh that doesn't sound very amused, shaking his head as he tips back the rest of his coffee. deep down, the second you clicked the door shut, his brain flew into panic mode stressing all of the fucked up shit you could be getting into alone.

.

the city is busy, buzzing with the weekend crowd. you weave through clusters of shoppers and couples, duck into the bookstore, and spend way too long scanning the manga shelves until your arms are full.

your reward for surviving the week is a nice expensive coffee.

you head toward your favorite cafe, already tasting the cafine on your tongue. but the second you spot the familiar sign, your steps falter.

because sitting right there at an outdoor table, sipping his drink like something out of a glossy ad, is suguru geto.

black hair tied back in that pretty half up style, dark eyes sharp even in the morning light. his shoulders broad, his posture relaxed.

he looks good, no, better than good.

and you can already feel the heat of memories rising. his mouth hot against your neck last summer, his voice low and commanding when he told you exactly how to move for him.

fuck.

you turn on your heel, ready to walk the other way, when a familiar voice slices through the noise.

“no way! y/n?” you freeze.

gojo satoru is striding toward you, white hair a mess, sunglasses perched on his head, a grin that could disarm anyone. tall, lean, built like a muscular ballerina.

and just like that, you’re trapped. just when you were about to finish up a problem free day.

“well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says, looping an arm around your shoulder before you can protest. “what are the odds, huh?”

“…unlucky, that's what,” you mutter, but he doesn’t hear. or maybe he does but pretends not to.

before you can reject, you’re being ushered toward the table, dropped right into the seat across from geto, who smiles slow and easy when your eyes meet.

“been a while,” he says smooth as honey.

you’re suddenly seventeen again, pressed between them in the backseat of gojo’s car, their hands everywhere, mouths hot against your skin. your thighs press together under the table, heat rising to your cheeks.

“yeah,” you mumble, clutching your bag tight..

it’s awkward, painfully so. your cheeks burn as you grip your iced coffee, trying not to think about the nights you spent tangled up with them. first separately, then together. the memory flickers unbidden, gojo’s laugh against your neck, geto’s steady hands, the way they’d pushed boundaries you didn’t even know you had.

they’re older, just like sukuna and toji, maybe a year or two younger, but still men in a way that leaves you feeling so young, inexperienced, even when you’ve already proven otherwise.

and they know it.

and they use that power.

“you look incredible,” geto says easily, eyes lingering.

“better than incredible,” gojo cuts in, leaning forward on his elbows. “we were just saying the other day how much weve missed you.”

you swallow thickly. “miss me?”

“yeah,” gojo says, grin softening into something hungrier. “miss this pretty face. miss how much fun we all had.”

your thighs press together under the table, heat rushing through you before you can stop it.

geto smirks, low and subtle. “you should come by our place, pretty. come visit. we’d make it well worth your time.”

oh god. you want to laugh it off, deflect it, but the way they’re both looking at you all hungry makes it impossible to breathe.

gojo tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “god, you really did grow up, huh? all pretty and put together now. makes me wonder what else you’ve been hiding from us.” his voice drops, just enough for you to feel the weight of it in your stomach.

geto’s gaze slides down your body. “not hiding. she’s just being wasted on the wrong people.” his eyes flick up to yours, calm and devastating. “we wouldn’t waste you, baby. need some older guys to set you right?”

oh god. this felt off.

gojo laughs, leaning closer, elbows on the table so his face is inches from yours. “don’t look so shy. we know you much better than that.”

“satoru,” you hiss under your breath, but he only grins wider, shameless as he slips a hand over your trembling thighs.

“what? it’s true. you were wild. couldn’t get enough of the both of us. remember?” he gestures vaguely, like he doesn’t need to specify because you know exactly what he’s talking about.

and you do. the car windows fogged up, geto’s voice in your ear telling you to be good, gojo laughing while his fingers dug into your thighs.

you want the floor to swallow you whole.

geto leans back, calm where gojo is reckless, but his words cut sharper. “don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. we haven’t.”

you suck in a breath, trying to find some anchor, some excuse to leave, but they don’t let up.

“you’re even prettier now,” gojo adds, eyes flicking to your mouth. “dangerously pretty. we were idiots to let you slip away.”

“we should fix that,” geto says, his tone deceptively casual. “no reason we can’t pick up where we left off.”

you shouldn’t be here. not with them. not when sukuna’s threat from last night is still ringing in your ears.

but then, like some cruel twist of fate, you hear the growl of an engine.

your heart sinks before you even look up.

because parked across the street, astride his black motorcycle, helmet under one arm, is sukuna.

he’s staring right at you.

oh fuuuuck. you were screwed.

he takes his time, swinging one long leg over the bike, setting his helmet down on the seat. then he walks toward the shop, every step so confident. gojo and geto don’t even notice until his shadow falls across the table.

“yo,” sukuna greets, that shitty grin plastered on his face.

gojo’s head snaps up, then breaks into a wide grin. “no fucking way, ryomen?”

they clasp hands, pulling each other into a dap up like old friends.

“it's been a while,” geto says, standing to clasp his hand too.

“mm, haven't seen you two in a bit,” sukuna hums, leaning against the table.

and then his gaze slides right over to you.

you nervously laugh and scratch at your collar. "wow, what a coincidence.." you spit through gritted teeth and an extremely forced smile.

“mhm, small world,” sukuna drawls, tilting his head. “you three know each other?”

the silence is really, really awkward. you want to scream at them not to say it, not to ruin you infront of him despite him already knowing, not to hand sukuna the ammunition he’s begging for.

gojo opens his big mouth first. “yeah, we-”

“mutual friends,” geto cuts in smoothly, “ran into each other a couple times.”

sukuna’s eyes narrow. all he wanted was to put these guys heads through the wall, but that would frighten you.

“that so?” he says softly, eyes never leaving yours. “funny. you’d think i’d have heard about that.”

your throat locks, gojo shifts in his seat, oblivious, but geto saves it. “guess it just slipped through the cracks.”

sukuna chuckles darkly, then pushes off the table. “huh. guess so.”

his smirk lingers as he turns away, but you can feel the weight of his gaze still pinned on you, like he’s already plotting what to do next.

he lets it hang there, brushing it off with the kind of nonchalance that makes your skin crawl. but his eyes, when they flick to you again, burn.

you know he's internally laughing at the lie.

and worse, you know he’s storing this away.

he pulls out his phone and pretends to read a quick message. “looks like your brother’s got timing,” he says suddenly, sliding his phone away into his pocket. “toji just texted. says to bring you home.”

your heart plummets. “what? he doesn't even know i'm-”

“shoosh.” sukuna straightens, already moving toward you. “c’mon, let’s go.”

“hold on-”

but gojo interrupts, frowning behind his sunglasses. “already? we were just catching up.”

“yeah,” geto adds, expression a shade colder, though his tone is still smooth. “huh, what bad timing,”

sukuna shrugs, not even pretending to be sorry. “sorry boys, orders from the top.”

you look between them helplessly, but gojo’s grin softens a little, like he’s trying to reassure you. “guess we’ll have to steal her another time.”

geto leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you. “you should give us a call when you’re home, y/n.” it’s really not a suggestion and sukuna knows that.

“yeah,” gojo echoes, flashing you a wink. “can't wait for our next encounter."

before you can respond, sukuna’s hand clamps around your arm as he hauls you up.

“later,” he tosses over his shoulder to the boys, already dragging you toward the street.

“hey- sukuna!” you hiss, stumbling to keep up. “what the fuck-”

but he doesn’t answer, nor does he look at you. he just shoves a helmet into your hands when you reach his bike, clearly pissed off.

your stomach knots and you hesitate. sukuna when he’s being dumb, when he’s cocky, you can handle. sukuna when he’s angry? not so much. you’ve seen what he does when he’s pissed off, holes punched in walls, bottles shattered against your kitchen floors when he's mad at your brother. the thought of all that energy turned on you makes your pulse spike.

so, you don’t argue. you slip the helmet on, hands shaking, and climb onto the back of the bike.

he scoffs, the engine roars, and then you’re flying down the street, clutching his back for dear life as he weaves through traffic, faster, faster, until your lungs are tight and your eyes sting behind the visor.

but when you finally reach your neighborhood, he doesn’t pull into your driveway. he slows just enough to swing into his instead, killing the engine with a sharp twist.

confused, you yank the helmet off as you climb off the bike. “why the hell are we at your house?”

“inside,” he cuts you off, tossing his own helmet onto the seat.

you stare at him, anger bubbling through your fear. “no. you don’t get to just drag me out of there, ruin my morning, and then not even take me home. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

he turns to you slowly.

“get the fuck inside,” he repeats.

“sukuna-”

he sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, then leans down so his mouth is right by your ear. “get inside, brat. or i’ll tell toji every little detail about last summer. every. single. one.”

you genuinely choke on the air in your throat.

he straightens, watching your face crumble, the victory already written in his face.

your legs move before your brain catches up, carrying you up his porch steps and through the door.

you whirl on him, voice sharp. “why are you doing this? what is your problem?!”

sukuna leans back against the door, arms folded, eyes boring into you.

“you really don’t get it, do you?”

“no, i don’t!” you shout. “you barge in, ruin my morning, drag me here like some caveman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

his laugh is humorless, bitter. “what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?”

“excuse me?”

he pushes off the door, crossing the space in two long strides. his size dwarfs you, tattoos shifting as his arms flex, voice rising.

“you think you’re grown, huh? think you can dress up all pretty, go prancing around town, hang around guys who are almost four years older than you like it’s nothing?” his face twists, fury sharp. “you’re fucking naive.”

your chest tightens. “i didn’t even mean-”

“don’t lie to me.” he roars, slamming his hand against the wall beside your head. you flinch, his eyes are wild, mouth twisted in a snarl.

“i saw the way they were looking at you. i know the shit they’ve done to you. you think those sleezy bastards give a fuck about you? they don’t. they just want what’s between your legs.”

your chest heaves. “they just happened to be there! i didn’t-”

“bullshit!” he slams his hand against the wall beside your head, the sound making you flinch. “you’re too fucking young, that’s your problem. you think they want you for you? wake the fuck up."

your throat tightens. his words slice through you, cruel and raw.

“you think it’s fine, don’t you?” he presses, voice rising. “letting twenty-one-year-old men fuck you when you were so young? you think that’s normal?” his tone is full of disgust, but you pick up on the undertones, and they sound a lot like jealousy.

“no! it’s fucked,” he bites out, jaw tight. “it’s so fucking messed up. do you even realize what you let happen? or are you too busy pretending it makes you grown?”

you shake your head, tears building up, but he doesn’t relent.

his hand grips your chin suddenly, forcing you to look at him. his eyes blaze, red and unyielding.

your eyes sting. “stop-”

“no, shut up and listen for once,” he growls, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze up to his. “you wanna play adult? fine. then act like one. stop being so goddamn reckless. stop letting creeps twice your size use you up and trade you around like pokémon cards. fucking take care of yourself, y/n.” he pauses.

“because if you don’t, someone else is gonna make that choice for you. and trust me, you won’t like it.”

your breath shudders out of you, you feel alot of emotions, alot of them aren't really what you'd expect to be feeling right now.

this isn’t the teasing, cocky sukuna who always gets under your skin. this is something so much angrier, protective and it twists your insides up.

you glare up at him, “why?”

he blinks. “what?”

“why the hell do you care so much about me, sukuna?” your voice cracks, equal parts fury and desperation. “you act like i’m your fucking responsibility. like you get to control where i go, who i talk to. why do you even give a shit? you're just some stupid guy who follows my brother around!”

for the first time today, he fumbles. just for a second. then his jaw locks tightly.

“because i care about your safety,” he growls. “because it made my fucking skin crawl when i heard you on the phone talking about how you let those idiots fuck you, bragging about wanting older guys like it was nothing.”

your eyes widen. “god can you just drop it-”

“no! no, i can't,” he cuts you off, voice sharp as glass. “you think i enjoyed listening to that? you think i liked picturing those two bastards putting their hands on you?” disgust twists his features. “you’re a fucking kid, y/n.”

rage spikes through you, wiping away the sting of shame. “a kid?” you spit, shoving at his chest. “you don’t get to call me that, not when you’re dragging me into your house like you own me, pinning me against walls, getting all up in my space like you’re about to take advantage of me yourself.”

his nostrils flare, muscles going taut.

“what’s the difference, huh?” you press, voice rising. “you’re older than gojo and geto. you treat me like your toy just as much as they did. tell me, how are you any different?”

for a good second there you think you'd gotten through to him about how ridiculous this all was, but the look of shock on his face was quickly replaced by one of anger...

then he explodes.

“don’t you dare compare me to them,” he snarls, slamming his palm against the wall beside your head for the nth time, the sound reverberating through the house. you flinch, but his eyes are locked on yours, burning.

“i wouldn’t use you up and toss you aside like they did. i wouldn’t leave you fucked out and broken just to move on to the next piece of ass.” his voice cracks with rage, raw and unfiltered. “i’ve known you for years. i’ve been there, watching, worrying, while you pulled your ridiculous little stunts. i give a fuck about you even when you think i don’t.”

his chest rises and falls hard, like every word is ripped out of him.

yourre stunned.

“do you have any idea what it felt like,” he presses, quieter but no less vicious, “knowing you were within arms reach, so close yet you still managed to get yourself into a situation like that without anyone knowing, you let those sick fucks touch you, they took advantage of you while you were too naive to see it, and it makes me sick that i was one door away from stopping it.”

you feel like crying.

he leans closer, so close you can see every fleck of red in his eyes, every tense line in his jaw.

“i’d rather burn this whole fucking city down than see you let someone like them use you again.”

the room is silent except for your uneven breaths, his towering figure caging you in, his fury crashing against your own.

and then you laugh. soft, broken.

“you really think you’re any better?” your voice trembles, but you keep your chin high. “you walk into my space, throw my shit around, talk to me like i’m worthless. you make me feel small every other day. you don’t care about me, sukuna, you just like having power over me.”

his eyes flash.

“power?” he bites out.

you push on, reckless. “you’re obsessed with controlling me. admit it. you don’t want me safe, you want me scared. you want me to need you.”

his hand shoots out, gripping your jaw tight enough to sting. your breath hitches, but you refuse to look away.

“you think that’s what this is?” he hisses. “me wanting control? me getting off on scaring you?” his thumb digs into your chin, holding you still. “if that’s what i wanted, i’d have taken you already. i’d have ruined you years ago. and don’t fucking lie, you know i could of.”

your pulse slams against your throat. his words coil hot and dark inside you, terrifying and intoxicating all at once.

his grip eases, but he doesn’t pull back. his voice drops, low and guttural.

“the difference between me and them? i give a shit what happens to you. i’ve been there every time you fucked up, even when you hated me for it. those clowns just wanted to stick their dicks in you and leave, i'm gonna be here forever.”

youre shaking as he holds you tight aagainst the wall.

then his eyes soften.

“you drive me insane,” he mutters, words tumbling from his big stupid mouth before he can stop them. “if you knew how long i spent thinking of you, worrying? shit, i’d never let anyone fuck you over like that again, not those fuckwits, not even myself.”

your breath catches. something shifts in your chest, sharp and terrifying.

you shouldn’t understand him. you shouldn’t feel the way you do now, heat curling low in your stomach, shame and longing tangled together.

but you do.

because aside form all the insults and the threats, the control, you’ve always felt the difference. sukuna never looked at you the way other guys did. not like prey, not like a quick fuck, no, his attention was always heavier, so much more dangerous.

you hate it but you craved it.

your lips part, words slipping out before you can stop them. “...maybe i don’t want you to put up that restraint.”

his eyes darken instantly.

it just got really fucking tense. his breath is mingling with yours as he stares at you with hunger and restraint.

he tilts his head, gaze flicking down to your mouth. your heart stops as his lips connect with yours, the both of you sigh so sensually into the kiss, he moves his mouth in soft clicks over your pretty lips.

the world narrows to the space between you.

but then, he pulls back.

his hand drops from your face, his body turning away like the nearness burned him.

you sag against the wall with your chest suddenly hollow.

he runs a hand over his face, muttering a curse under his breath. his fists clench, then unclench.

“this is fucked,” he growls.

your throat tightens. “sukuna i-”

“don’t,” he snaps, but softer than before. his eyes move back down to you, conflicted and stormy. “just… don’t.”

the silence is insanely akward. you feel neglected in a way, like he was taunting you, or making some cruel joke only he understood.

finally, he exhales, “we can’t… i can’t.”

your cheeks go red, you'd never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.. all you want is to yell at him, scream at him for toying with you, but you can't. one word out of your mouth and you know you'll cry. so, you nod your head.

he moves toward the door, shoulders stiff, pausing only once. “you can go, just- dont get into anymore shit. and don’t make me regret telling you any of this.”

and then he’s gone, leaving you against the wall, totally and utterly reeling.

~

night creeps up on you way too slowly, toji's still at work as your parents blast some late night tv drama downstairs, and you're lying halfway off the side of your bed with your phone screen pressed to your ear.

“so… let me get this straight.” maki’s voice comes through, “you went to a café. bumped into gojo and geto-”

“by accident,” you add, cutting her off.

“sure. and then sukuna shows up out of nowhere, drags you out like some caveman, takes you to his house, screams at you for being… what? naive?”

you groan, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. “don’t say it like that, it sounds worse when you-”

“and then,” she plows on, completely ignoring you, “you two kissed?”

“oh my god, maki.” you bury your face into the pillow, voice muffled. “can you not?”

there’s a pause, then a laugh bursts through the speaker, maki’s laugh is never pretty; it’s always mean, like she’s pointing at you through the phone. “holy shit, you’re serious. sukuna actually kissed you. your brother’s scary ass best friend. the guy who makes a sport out of tormenting you every time he’s over? thats a laugh. im telling yuki.”

you sit up, clutching the phone tighter. “oh my god don't you dare. it was just, like... a moment. i don’t even know what it was. he got all pissed at me, yelling about how i’m reckless and i need to act like an adult, and then he…” your voice falters. “…he said all this deep shit, maki. stuff i didn’t think he cared about."

for once, maki doesn’t immediately bite back. you hear her exhale, "sounds like he cares a little too much.”

your stomach squishes together in a way you don't like. “god, don’t say that.”

“why not? you’ve been whining about him for years, and now the second he gets real with you, you’re suddenly shy? please.”

you flop onto your back again, glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not like that. he’s- he’s toji’s best friend. he’s older. he’s…”

“hot?” maki supplies flatly.

heat crawls up your neck. “i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to. you should’ve heard your voice just now. god, you sound like every dumb girl with a crush.” she snorts. “this is hilarious.”

you groan, shoving your pillow over your face. “i’m so screwed.”

“no, you’re not.” maki’s tone shifts, not softer exactly, but steadier. “look. sukuna’s an asshole, i’ll give you that. but he’s not gojo or geto. he’s not gonna sweet talk you, fuck you, and then vanish. if he wanted that, he would’ve done it already. hell, you’ve basically been bait dangling in front of him for years, and he hasn’t touched you. that’s… saying something? i guess?”

you peek out from under the pillow. “…he said something like that too.”

“see? told you. maybe he was waiting for you to stop being jailbait, now you're grown? he's taking his chance.”

“but he’s so…” you trail off, words stuck in your throat. how do you explain the way his anger felt less like rage and more like panic? how his words, cruel as they were, carried something heavier beneath them? how his kiss felt less like a mistake and more like the edge of something inevitable?

“…so what?” maki presses.

“intense,” you whisper. “it’s like, he makes me feel so small, and i hate it, but at the same time… i don’t. like, i can’t stop thinking about it. about him.”

silence. then another laugh, this one slower, more knowing. “oh my god. you actually like him.”

you jolt. “i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” she’s smug as hell, you can hear it. “listen to yourself. you’re crushing hard. on sukuna. and honestly? i say go for it.”

your eyes widen. “are you insane? toji would kill me. he’d kill him. my parents-”

“who cares?” maki cuts in. “when have you ever cared about rules before? besides, if sukuna wanted to just use you, he would’ve. and he didn’t. instead, he’s yelling about your safety and trying not to kiss you. that’s not on some casual shit. that’s him being hung up on you.”

you roll onto your side, curling into yourself. “…you really think so?”

“i know so,” she says simply. “and if you’re crushing this hard already, you’re not gonna shake it. so either you own it, or you keep denying it until it eats you alive.”

you bite your lip, staring at the dark corner of your room. owning it feels terrifying. but denying it feels impossible. sukuna’s face keeps flashing behind your eyelids, the fire in his eyes, the grip of his hand on your jaw, the ghost of his lips against yours.

“shit,” you whisper, more to yourself than her. “i think i really like him.”

maki hums, satisfied. “good. about time you admitted it.”

you groan into your pillow again, but this time, the sound is half-laugh. “you’re the worst.”

“i know,” she says, smug. “but at least i’m right.”

~

the weeks that follow that little event are nothing short of litteral torture.

not the kind you’re used to, though. not sukuna’s constant barbs thrown across the living room, the digs at your clothes or the way you roll your eyes, no, this is different. this is gross uncomfortable silence.

at first, you think maybe he’s planning something. a long game? a new way to drive you insane? but the longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes: sukuna’s totally avoiding you.

he doesn’t tease you at all, doesn’t even look at you the way he used to, that infuriating glint in his eyes like he knows every single thing you’re too afraid to say out loud. now, when you walk into a room, he just stiffens. looks away. sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll catch the faintest pink at his ears before he hides it with a scowl.

and you hate it.

sukuna’s whole presence has always been overwhelmingly loud, cocky, but without it, without him pressing your buttons at every turn, the house feels so wrong.

he still comes over, of course. he and toji are glued at the hip, always have been. you hear his laugh from the kitchen when he’s with your brother. he jokes easily with your parents, it’s only you he can’t seem to deal with.

and the worst part? you know why.

he thinks he’s doing the right thing. you can see it in the way he keeps his distance, its as if one more step closer to you and he’ll lose whatever fragile control he’s clawed together since that night in his house.

what you don’t see, what you can’t see, is the war raging in his head.

.

in sukuna’s mind, it’s simple, he fucked up.

he shouldn’t have let himself get that close. shouldn’t have let the heat of the moment, your wide eyes and sharp words, push him into something reckless. he should’ve shut it down before it started. should’ve kept the walls up like he always has.

you’re his best friend’s little sister, you're only 18. five or so years younger. too young for him to even think about this shit with.

and yet, he can’t stop.

it’s like the more he tells himself no, the worse it gets. his brain replays every second of that day on a loop. the way your breath hitched when he grabbed your jaw. the sting in your voice when you demanded to know why he cared. the kiss he still feels burning on his lips even though it was brief.

he hates himself for it, so he avoids you. he keeps his distance, forces himself to act normal. it’s hell, but it’s just a tad safer.

because if he lets himself slip. if he gives in, even once, he knows he won’t be able to stop.

.

you notice it worse at night. when the house settles, when everyone else is too busy or too tired to notice how weird things have gotten.

like tonight.

toji’s mindlessly playing video games, your parents in their room downstairs. sukuna’s staying over, stretched out on the couch, the light of the tv illuminating his tattoos. you can see him from the hallway, and he looks as good as ever.

normally, you’d poke at him. steal the blanket just to watch him snap at you. but now? he doesn’t even look up when you walk by.

your face clenches with hurt, you'd really had enough of this fuckwit's little mind games.

you wait patiently for the next two hours, biding your time in your bedroom, and when you hear the floor creak, the sound of him heading toward the bathroom, you move.

your room’s right beside it, the timing perfect. you slip out, grab his wrist before he can even register it, and yank.

“the fuck-”

the door shuts. the lock clicks. the light stays off.

you’ve got him cornered in the dark.

“what the hell, y/n?” his voice is defensive.

you stand your ground, pressing your back to the door crossing your arms. “why won’t you talk to me?”

he scoffs, “jesus. you’re insane.”

“don’t do that.” your voice cuts, firmer than you feel. “don’t brush me off. you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. you won’t even look at me anymore.”

“good,” he snaps. “maybe you’ll get the hint.”

your chest tightens. “what hint?”

“that this,” he growls, gesturing vaguely between you, “whatever the fuck you think is happening, can’t. it’s wrong.”

you feel your chest reduce in size by about 10000% and your heart thump wrongly in your ribs.

“wrong?” you whisper.

he exhales dragging a hand over his face. “you’re my best friend’s little sister. you’re- fuck, you’re too young. i can’t,” he breaks off.

“bullshit.” you push off the door, stepping closer until you can just make out the faint outline of his frame in the dark. “that’s bullshit, sukuna. you’ve never cared about what’s right or wrong a day in your life.”

he laughs dryly,. “yeah, well, i do now.”

“why?” you challenge, closing the gap between you. “why do you care so much? you can’t just act like nothing happened and then shut me out. we’re close, sukuna. we’ve always been close. so talk to me. tell me what the fuck changed.”

his silence is growing up your arms in all the wrong ways. you can almost hear his thoughts tearing him apart, the push and pull inside his head.

he wants you. god, he wants you so badly it makes him sick. every inch of him screams to grab you, to press you up against the sink and take what he’s been denying himself for a long time. but the other half? the half that knows how dangerous this shit is, holds him back.

“drop it,” he says frayed like rope pulled to breaking.

“no.” your chin lifts, defiance burning in your face. “i’m not letting you ignore me. not after everything you said.”

“y/n-”

“no, sukuna!” your voice cracks, too loud, bouncing against the bathroom walls. “you don’t get to yell at me about my choices, act like you care so much, and then pretend i don’t exist. that’s not fair. i deserve to know why.”

he snaps, and moves like a storm breaking, two strides and he’s on you.

palm clamping over your mouth, your back hitting the cold porcelain of the sink.

his body crowds yours, heat pulsating off his chest with his tattoos flickering in the faint strip of light under the door.

“shut. up.” the words rasp out guttural and his breath is hot against your ear. “you don’t get it. you don’t fucking get it.”

your pulse slams against his hand.

his forehead drops to yours, close enough that you can feel the scrape of his breath on your lips. his hand still silences your protest, fingers splayed firm across your jaw.

“you think i don’t want this?” he growls, barely more than a whisper. “you think i don’t want you?”

your eyes widen, muffled sound catching under his palm.

“i do,” he spits, “so fucking bad it’s killing me. you’re in my head every damn second. i can’t fucking sleep without seeing you. i can’t sit in your house without wanting to drag you somewhere dark like this and-” he cuts himself off, sucking in a shuddered breath, the restraint rattling his frame.

his thumb twitches against your cheek, like it aches to stroke instead of restrain.

“you’re all i can fucking think about, y/n.” the words drip with hunger, and for a second, you swear he’s going to break. his eyes flick to your mouth, linger there, heavy and dangerous.

your knees weaken, but his body pins you upright.

“then why,” your muffled voice fights against his hand, desperate, trembling.

he rips it away like it burns him.

“because i can’t have you,” he bites out, staggering back half a step, it takes every ounce of him not to reach back for you.

“why not?” you demand, the words tumbling out sharp, urgent. “why the hell not, sukuna? if you want me, then-”

“because it’s wrong!” he explodes, cutting you off. his voice cracks like thunder, raw and brutal. “you’re toji’s little sister. you’re eighteen. you’re- you’re fucking off-limits, y/n. don’t you get that?”

“off-limits?” your voice wavers. “so i’m just, what? a kid to you?”

“no! that’s the fucking problem. you’re not a kid to me. not anymore.”

you step forward, fire blazing in your chest. “then stop acting like it. stop pushing me away like i don’t matter. i’m not a child, sukuna. i know what i want.”

his jaw clenches, muscles jumping. “yes, but you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“i do.” your voice is firm, even as your insides shake. “i want you.”

god. he thinks.

his hand shoots out, gripping the edge of the sink behind you, caging you in without touching you. his face is inches from yours, teeth gritted, and eyes burning.

“you don’t get it,” he rasps. “if i have you, even once, i won’t stop. i won’t let you go. i’ll ruin you, y/n. you think you’re ready for that? you think you’re ready for me?”

your lips part, trembling. “yes.”

he sucks in a breath with his forehead dropping to yours again.

you close your eyes, waiting, begging.

but it doesn’t come.

instead, his voice drops.

“no.”

your eyes snap open. his stare cuts you clean in half.

“i can’t.” the words are shards, each one slicing deep. “i can’t give you what you want. not now. not ever. this-” his voice fractures, but he forces it steady. “this ends here.”

your throat tightens, the ache crawling up until it burns your eyes. “sukuna-”

“don’t.” he steps back fully, ripping the heat of his body away from yours. the cold rushes in where he stood, suffocating. “don’t make this harder than it already is. i said no. and that’s final.”

the finality in his tone is devastating.

“so what now?” your voice is barely a whisper. “you just ignore me? pretend none of this ever happened?”

his jaw ticks, his eyes hard. “yeah. exactly that.”

the cruelty of it knocks the air from your lungs.

“sukuna!”

“enough.” his voice cracks, but the word lands like a gunshot. “you need to drop this. for both our sakes.”

this is brutal..

then his hand, trembling, drops away completely. he spins, shoving the lock open with a snap. the door creaks, light spilling into the suffocating dark.

and just like that, he’s gone.

the door clicks shut behind him, his shadow disappearing down the hall, leaving you stranded.

your chest heaves, the echo of his words clawing through your ribs.

you grip the sink so tight your knuckles ache, the porcelain biting into your palms.

he said he wanted you. admitted you were all he thought about. and then he cut you down with a finality that left you gutted.

alone.

rejected.

if he won’t look at you, then fuck it. you’ll find someone else who will.

~

your spiral into madness kicks off with a bang.

a party here, a risky blunt there. late nights you know you shouldn’t be out, people you know you really shouldn’t be with. you’ve always had a rebellious streak, but this time it’s different. this time, you’re not just looking for fun, you’re looking to numb.

and the first time toji catches wind of it, he’s pissed.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls, arms crossed as he stands in your doorway. “sneaking out in the middle of the night? going to parties with people you don’t even know? people i don't even know? are you trying to get yourself killed?”

you roll your eyes, throwing yourself back on your bed. “jesus, toji, i’m not a kid anymore. stop acting like i am.”

“you’re acting like one,” he fires back. “and i’m not gonna sit here and watch you throw yourself into shit you can’t handle.”

“i can handle it,” you snap, bitterness rising. “not like you’d know. you’re too busy with your own shit to even notice me half the time.”

that one really lands a blow to his chest. you see the flash of hurt in his eyes before he storms out, muttering curses under his breath.

but it doesn’t stop you.

if anything, it pushes you further.

more parties. more trouble. more risky decisions that would’ve terrified you a year ago. and every time, you come home with that hollow pit in your stomach, pretending it’s fine. pretending you don’t care.

.

because toji notices, obviously sukuna does too.

toji would casually mention your attitude when he and sukuna were hanging out, but then the stories get worse. the night you came home drunk. the fight you picked with him. the random numbers texting your phone.

sukuna listens silently with his jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he grinds his teeth.

he shouldn’t feel this angry. you’re not his problem. you’re not his sister. you’re not his responsibility.

and yet, every word out of toji’s mouth feels like a knife to the gut.

because deep down, he knows it’s his fault.

he lit the match, gave you hope when he should’ve shut it down completely. and now, you’re burning for it. acting out, pushing limits, looking for attention in all the wrong kinds of places.

you’re self destructing, and he’s the reason why.

.

it all comes to a head one night in toji’s room.

gta is paused on the tv. toji’s sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. sukuna’s leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching his best friend unravel.

“i don’t know what the fuck to do with her anymore,” toji admits, voice low, rough. “she’s always been a brat, yeah, but lately? it’s worse. she’s reckless. sneaking out, hanging with guys i don’t trust... i’m worried, man.”

sukuna swallows staying quiet.

“she’s not a dumb child anymore, i get that,” toji continues, dragging a hand down his face. “but she’s still my little sister. and the shit she’s doing? it’s not just stupid, it’s dangerous. i feel like i’m losing her.”

fuckk.

he wants to tell him everything. wants to admit that he knows why you’re spiraling, that he’s the one who hurt you. but the words stick in his throat like poison.

he clenches his teeth and says nothing.

because how the fuck could he explain it?

hey, bro, your little sister’s acting out because i cornered her in the bathroom, told her i wanted her, then rejected her like it meant nothing to me.

yeah. no.

so he listens. and he burns.

burns with guilt. burns with anger. burns with the kind of helpless frustration that makes his hands twitch, like he needs to smash something just to let it all the fuck out.

because toji’s scared, and sukuna knows he should be.

you’re spiralling out of control.

and it’s his fault.

~

"n/nnnn, c'mon! we'll only stay for a few hours, it'll be a fun way to end the weekend." maki had been talking your ear off about coming to some house party on the other side of town for around half an hour now, and with each sentance you were becoming more and more into it, she was a really bad influence.

"hot guys, free drinks, weed, what more could you want?" she adds.

"we don't even go to that university, we wouldn't know anyone." you retest, but ofcourse, she has an answer for everything.

"suguru and satoru are going."

...

"god, i hate you." but, unfortunately, that was all you needed to be swooned.

maybe it was apart of you that wanted to pay a final fuck you to sukuna and bang the guys he had been so worried about you getting involved with, but it was also just a good situation. one where you didn't feel like a desperate ex calling them up wanting a quick lay, you just so happened to be going to a party they were going to, no desperation involved. you glanced at the clock, 10.p.m, perfect. "okay i'll meet you outside at like, eleven."

.

the house is dead silent when you slip out, not the kind of tense silence you’re used to, where sukuna’s shadow lurks on the couch and toji’s muttering curses at his video game.

no, tonight’s different. the living room’s... empty? the tv dark, the whole place still in a way that feels almost suspicious.

you pause in the hallway, shoes dangling from your fingers. normally, this would be the part where sukuna’s voice cuts through the dark, 'where the fuck do you think you’re going?' or toji stomping out of his room like a storm cloud.

but nothing.

you creep past toji’s door, listen. no movement inside. check the couch, empty. you even peek toward the kitchen, expecting sukuna’s tall frame leaning against the counter, waiting to catch you.

still nothing.

they’re not here.

a weird thrill rolls through you, it shouldn’t be this easy. it’s never this easy. but for once, they’re both gone, probably holed up at sukuna’s place across the street, drowning in beers and whatever bullshit guys like them talk about when you’re not around.

“perfect,” you whisper, smirking to yourself as you shove your shoes on and slip out the front door.

maki’s waiting at the end of the block, leaning against her car with her phone in hand, one eyebrow raised when she sees you jogging over.

“damn,” she whistles. “that was fast. thought i’d be waiting twenty minutes for you to sneak out.”

you grin, tugging the car door open. “house was empty. like, empty empty. kinda freaked me out, honestly.”

maki snorts as you climb in. “well, don’t question it. take the win.” she throws the car into gear, the engine humming as she pulls onto the street. “besides, it’s like the universe wants us to party tonight.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your mouth. “you’re a bad influence.”

“and you love me for it.”

.

tonights nothing like the frat parties maki usually drags you to, it’s more intimate, the kind of house party that feels like everyone knows everyone, except for you two.

“see? told you this would be better than some stupid frat thing you wanted to go to,” maki grins, already tugging you deeper into the chaos. “real college kids. real fun.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but there’s a nip in your chest, a mix of nerves and excitement. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see. hopefully they don't realise we're from the college across the way.”

the kitchen is crammed with people playing beer pong, the counters littered with red cups and empty bottles. maki beelines for the drinks, pouring herself something dull and shoving a cup into your hand.

“to shitty decisions,” she says, clinking yours with hers.

you smirk. “to even shittier influences, i guess.”

the burn of alcohol slides down your throat, warmth spreading instantly. the music shifts, someone turning it up even louder, and maki is already tugging you toward the living room.

you let yourself sink into it. for once, you don’t think about sukuna’s scowl or toji’s lectures or the way your house has felt like a minefield lately. you just move, laugh, drink, and let maki spin you in circles until you’re dizzy.

hours blur. the party swells. you’re glowing, tipsy, hair sticking to your neck, and maki disappears into the crowd, pulled toward some guy shouting her name.

you don’t even notice until you’re left standing near the edge of the dance floor, drink empty, pulse buzzing.

and that’s when you feel two sets of eyes.

you turn, and there they are.

suguru geto and satoru gojo.

they look almost out of place here, a tad older, more put together than the drunk college kids spilling beer down their shirts.

“well, well,” gojo drawls, eyes dragging over you shamelessly. “didn’t expect to see you here, sweetheart.”

your stomach churns with heat licking up your neck, you were here for them. you force yourself to smirk. “what, you two crash college parties often?”

“only when the scenery’s worth it,” geto says smoothly, his gaze unapologetically slow as it travels down your body and back up. “looks like tonight’s our lucky night.”

you scoff, but your chest tightens. you came here for them. you can’t pretend you didn’t.

gojo steps closer towering over you, “you look good,” he says, tone dropping just enough to curl around your spine. “real good. a shame we never got a call from you after that little run in at the coffee shop.”

your breath shudders, but you mask it with sarcasm. “i'm a busy girl, you know.”

“hmm,” gojo smirks. “i'm sure you are.”

geto chuckles, low and rich. “we were talking about you earlier, actually.”

your brows lift. “oh yeah? should i be flattered or worried?”

“flattered,” geto says without missing a beat, leaning in close enough that his lips nearly brush your ear. “definitely flattered.”

oh my god.

god, it feels good. after weeks of being ignored, of sukuna’s rejection in your chest, the attention feels like a drug, different to the lazy good looking douches you've been entertaining, no. this was like comparing marijuana to heroin.

“god, you're so pretty, y/n,” gojo teases, catching the tension in your shoulders. “seriously, we've missed you.”

“well, aren't you two forward, don't hold back, huh?”

“what’s the point?” geto shrugs, eyes glinting. “life’s too short to dance around what you want.”

your throat goes dry. the voice in the back of your head, sukuna’s voice, sharp and scathing hisses that this is exactly what he warned you about. two older guys who’ll use you, chew you up, and spit you out.

but you shove it down.

because right now, under their gaze, you feel desired in a way that makes your whole body jitter.

“so,” gojo drawls, tilting his head, “you here alone, or…?”

you smirk, feigning bravado. “does it matter?”

“not really,” geto answers, eyes dark. “just means we don’t have to share.”

gojo leans closer, voice dropping. “tell us the truth, sweetheart. did you come here hoping to find us?”

your lips part, but no sound comes out.

geto saves you the trouble. “because we were hoping to find you. maki told us beforehand you were showing up.”

that little four eyed liar.

the words are silk and smoke, wrapping tight around you.

your chest heaves. you should walk away. you should remember every warning, every scolding, every time sukuna’s voice told you this exact thing would happen.

instead, you tip your chin up. “maybe.”

gojo grins like he’s won something. “knew it.”

geto chuckles, satisfied. “what a smart girl.”

they close in, one on either side, the world narrowing until all you can see, all you can feel, is them. the crowd, the music, the party, it all fades.

gojo’s breath fans your cheek. “so, what’s it gonna be?”

geto’s voice is velvet at your other ear. “gonna let us take care of you?”

your pulse is a drum, your head spinning with alcohol, lust, and reckless defiance.

"please."

.

“yo, kuna.”

across that same party, sukuna jerks his head up at the sound of his name.

the rooms loud, but he’s not paying much attention. he and toji showed up less than an hour ago, the place already reeking of booze and sweat. toji’s in his element, laughing with some girl draped over his arm, but sukuna’s on edge.

“you look like shit,” toji snorts, handing him a fresh drink. “you need to relax, man. fuck a girl, blow off some steam. i saw one of your old flings here, red dress, big tits, you should go for it.”

sukuna grunts, barely glancing in the direction toji nods.

normally, he’d say fuck it. normally, he’d already have the girl pressed against a wall whispering dirty things down her neck.

but tonight, something nags at him. a weight in his gut he can’t shake, like something's wrong, really wrong.

still, he forces himself to walk, weaving through the crowd toward the girl in red. toji had dragged him here earlier, saying they needed to bang something bad to get rid of the stress they'd both been feeling lately. he'd agreed, not thinking anything of it. but now? all he can focus on is whatever bad thing you could be doing at the moment, out doing god knows what with god knows who.

just as he's about to plaster on a devilish smirk and wrap an arm around his old fling, he sees you.

your laugh, high and shaky, carries over the music. he spots you wedged between two tall figures, and his blood goes cold.

gojo. geto.

the same two fuckers he ripped into you about weeks ago. the ones who made his skin crawl when you talked about being with them.

and there you are, looking up at them with wide eyes, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

their bodies are too close. their eyes are too hungry. and you?

you’re letting it happen.

a fire detonates in his chest.

he doesn’t hear the music anymore, doesn’t see the girl in red still eyeing him mere meters away, all he sees is you.

you, with their disgusting hands trailing you up and down, looks of deceit and arrogance plastered on their sleazy faces.

exactly like he fucking warned you.

and it feels like the floor drops out from under him.

he watches as your head tips back, your hand brushing against gojo’s arm as he leans in close. geto says something low against your ear, and sukuna watches your body react, watches the shiver crawl across your skin.

it should be simple, he should storm over there and tear you away from them, snarl in their smug faces until they back the fuck off. that’s what the protective best friend role demands. that’s what toji would expect of him.

but his feet stay planted.

because deep down, he knows he’s got no fucking right.

you’re not a kid. you’ve always been naive, but in the end you make your own choices, reckless or not. he warned you. he yelled at you. hell, he confessed in the dark of that bathroom that he wanted you, wanted you bad enough to lose sleep over it, and then he still shoved you away.

and this? this is the fallout.

you don’t listen. you don’t care. you’re doing exactly what you want, just like always.

he should’ve never let it get this far. should’ve never let that night in the bathroom happen. he can still feel the ghost of your breath against his lips, the desperate edge in your voice when you demanded answers. he should’ve shut it down, but no, he let himself slip. he admitted the truth. and then he gutted you with rejection.

and now you’re here, seeking out the exact poison he warned you about, just to spite him.

his grip tightens around the cup until the plastic crumples.

gojo’s hand trails down your arm, fingers brushing yours in a way that makes your breath hitch. geto leans in closer, lips grazing your temple like it is nothing, like he has every right to be there. you laugh, but it is thin, brittle around the edges. the kind of laugh sukuna knows too well.

his stomach knots. he sees it, clear as day. you are starting to fold in on yourself, the tipsy bravado is slipping. the way your shoulders tense, the way your eyes dart for half a second toward the crowd like you are looking for an exit. you chew your lip again, a nervous tell he remembers from when you were younger, when you thought no one noticed.

and fuck, it is all he needs to see.

because this is not you having fun, and those bastards are getting bolder, with their hands inching lower, mouths getting closer. gojo whispers something against your ear, and the look that flashes across your face, quick and sharp before you bury it, makes rage ignite in sukuna’s head.

he swallows it down. he has to think. because as much as his fists itch to connect with their smug faces, he catches a glimpse of muscular movement across the room. toji.

the dumbass is weaving through the crowd, laughing with a beer in his hand, already scouting for his next distraction. he is too close. one more step and his line of sight will land straight on you. his baby sister, cornered between two men he would genuinely kill on the spot if he knew what they were capable of.

sukuna’s pulse slams. he cannot let that happen. he cannot let toji see you like this. the disappointment would gut him, and the aftermath? unthinkable.

his decision snaps into place before he even realizes he is moving.

he pushes off the wall, shoulders set, expression flat. his height cuts through the crowd easy, a predator zeroing in. geto and gojo are too wrapped up in you to notice until he is already there.

and then his hand is on you.

“what the-” you start, but the word dies in your throat when you are yanked clean out of their little trap. sukuna’s grip clamps around your wrist, and before you can protest he is pulling you through the throng of bodies like you weigh nothing.

it happens so fast no one can stop it. geto blinks, gojo curses, your heels scuff against the floor as you stumble to keep up.

you twist, eyes wide. “sukuna, what the fuck-”

“shut up,” he snaps.

behind you, you hear gojo’s mockinh laugh, but it barely cuts through the roar of blood in your ears.

because nothing about this makes any sense? you never saw him coming. never expected him to be here, let alone to drag you away like some scene out of a nightmare.

he shoves the back door open and drags you out into the cool darkness. the music from the house thunders behind you, muffled by walls and the growing distance, but your pulse is so much louder, crashing in your ears as your heels scrape against the sidewalk.

he doesn’t slow until he’s pulled you into the shadow of a narrow side street, his grip finally loosens, dropping your wrist like it burnt him.

you rip your arm back harshly, anger sparking so hot you barely recognise your own voice.

“what the fuck is your problem?” you snap, “you can’t just drag me out like that! what the fuck gives you the right?”

he says nothing while standing there still. you want a reaction, you want him to scream or yell or something.

“say something!” you shove at his chest, the force making him stumble half a step, but his hand shoots up, catching your wrist again before you can hit him again.

“you’re welcome,” he scoffs.

your laugh bursts out sharp, “you’re welcome? are you kidding me? you think this is some fucking favor? dragging me away from them like i’m some dumb child who can’t make my own choices?”

“those weren’t choices,” sukuna growls. “those were mistakes waiting to happen, i knew you were uncomfortable.”

“and that’s your call, huh?” your voice cracks, “you think you get to decide who i talk to, who i touch, who i let touch me?” your hands are trembling now, and you clench them into fists so he doesn’t see. “you think you’re better than them? you think you’re not the biggest mistake i ever made?”

his eyes are bllown out but he doesn't say a single word.

and that silence, that maddening restraint, makes your throat tighten. tears sting hot behind your eyes, but you blink hard, furious at yourself for letting him see.

“i liked you,” you spit, chest heaving. “do you get that? i fucking liked you. i thought we had something, i thought-” your voice splinters, and you bite it back, nails digging crescents into your palms. “i thought you wanted me too. and then you” the bathroom walls flash in your mind. the way he looked at you, the way his voice dropped when he confessed he wanted you. and then the way he gutted you with rejection, leaving you stranded in the dark.

“you ripped me apart,” you choke, words tumbling out far too fast now. “you could’ve just said no. you could’ve said you didn’t feel that way. but no, you made me think there was something real, then you shoved me away like i was nothing.”

sukuna’s shoulders twitch, like he wants to speak, but he doesn’t. he just stands there with the veins in his neck straining.

“and now now you think you can just drag me out of there, away from them, away from anyone who looks at me like i’m worth something? fuck you, sukuna. seriously fuck you.” your voice is breaking, hot tears finally slipping, but you don’t care anymore. you want him to see. you want him to hurt. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to reject me and then act like you own me. you’re such a fucking asshole.”

sukuna finally steps closer, his head dipping like he’s trying to breathe through his own rage. “you don’t know what the fuck you’re saying,” he growls like he’s fighting every word.

“i know exactly what i’m saying,” you snap. “you hurt me. you really fucking hurt me! you made me think i wasn’t good enough- like i was just some stupid girl you could toy around with.” the tears are really flowing now, you're staring at him like he'd just killed your whole family.

shit, he felt like a dick. his eyes, fuck, his eyes look wrecked.

inside his head it’s messy every word you spit slashes deep, because you’re right. he did crush you. he did push you away like it was nothing, like you were nothing, because it was the only way he could think to save himself from losing everything else. he told himself it was better, that hurting you once cleanly was kinder than stringing you along. but now? seeing your tears glint in the lamplight, hearing the raw break in your voice? it feels like he chose the cruelest option of all.

he never wanted this. not your pain. not your anger. not the ache sitting heavy in your chest that he put there himself.

he can't help but move closer, his head falling closer to your face as he inches forward. but you don’t back away. you’re trembling, glaring at him through wet makeup, waiting for something, anything. an answer. an explanation?

he doesn’t have one. not one that doesn’t make him sound like a coward.

what he does have is this unbearable pull.

your mouth is right there. your chest heaves close to his. your scent wraps around him, sweet and sharp, clinging to the back of his throat.

and he breaks.

his hand shoots up to cradle your jaw. not gentle, it's desperate.

he crowds you into the wall, lips crashing against yours hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

your gasp melts into the kiss, fury colliding with hunger, tongue forcing past your resistance like he’s starving.

and god help you, you kiss him back.

he groans pathetically into your mouth and it shoots straight through you. his hand pulls up your ribs like he wants to understand the shape of you.

you break for air, both of you panting, foreheads colliding. “you...” your voice shakes, “you can’t just-"

“god, shut up,” he groans, his mouth takes over yours again, swallowing your complaint.

your tears streak hot down your cheeks, but he kisses them away, mouth dragging rough along your jaw and down your neck. you let out a whimper with your nails digging into his shoulders.

“you drive me fucking insane,” he quips against your throat. “you think i don’t want you? i can’t fucking breathe around you.”

your knees nearly buckle, your body arching as his teeth graze your skin. “then why? why did you-"

“because it’s wrong,” he spits, pressing you harder against the wall, like pinning you there will make you believe him. “because you’re his little sister. because you deserve better than this, than me.”

his words are a whip, but his mouth contradicts them, trailing fire down your neck, his hand gripping your waist like he’ll never let go.

you shove at him, tears burning. “you don’t get to say that after everything. you don’t get to push me away and then then kiss me like this”

he silences you again, lips crashing to yours, swallowing the sob in your throat.

and this time, you don’t fight it.

you melt into this big, confusing man you'd become so infatuated with. his hand tangles in your hair tugging enough to make you gasp, to let him deepen the kiss until you’re dizzy with lust.

his breath is ragged when he finally breaks away and pushes his forehead to yours huffing and puffing.

“i can’t stay away from you,” he admits, “i tried. i fucking tried, this was my last attempt at getting you out of my damn head, but i just can’t. you’re all i fucking think about.”

holy shit.

“if you want me... please... just have me,” you whisper desperatley.

everything disappears then he’s kissing you again, slower this time but deeper, like he’s pouring every war inside him into you, and you allow him to.

because no matter how wrong it is, no matter how much it will burn you both alive, you’ve never wanted anything more than what he's giving you right now.

“let's not do this here. you deserve better than an alley,” he pulls away.

before you can argue, his fingers lace tight around yours. one hard tug, and he’s pulling you from the wall, dragging you out of the narrow side street. your complaints fade form your brain replaced by the thud of your pulse as he leads you fast.

“kuna-”

his bike waits where he left it, black and mean under the streetlamp next to toji's car, shit, he was here too?

sukuna swings one leg over, settling in like he was born on it, then jerks his chin at you.

“c'mon.”

the tone brooks absolutely no argument. it’s not a question.

.

he kills the engine outside his house, he swings off first, boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud, then turns to your pretty little figure on his bike. god you looked perfect.

your fingers twitch before you finally slip yours into his.

his hand is massive as it encases your entire wrist aswell as your fingers, he pulls you towards his door with a strong grip, he couldn't wait a second longer than he needed to.

he keys the door and inside the house is still and quiet, his parents were always off on trips to do with their business, so it's no wonder the house is empty.

you don’t get two seconds before your back hits the wood hard enough to rattle the frame. he's devouring your lips much rougher this time, like he’s been starving for it the entire ride. his hands cage your face, thumbs pressing into your pretty cheeks as his tongue claims until you gasp.

your fingers knot in his shirt, yanking him closer, your fury bleeding into want and need.

you gasp his name into the heat, but he swallows it whole, groaning into your mouth like the sound alone undoes him. "hmm, easy, baby." he whispers.

his hands drop, dragging down your sides, gripping your waist so hard you think he’ll bruise. he hoists you up without warning, and instinct takes over, your legs wrapping around his hips.

the world falls at an angle as he carries you deeper inside, his mouth doesn’t leave yours until he sets you down hard against his kitchen counter, the edge biting into your thighs.

he looks down at you like he doesn’t know whether to tear you apart or worship you slowly.

“my god,” he mutters almost to himself with forehead pressed to yours for the millionth time tonight.

all you can do is look at him, 230kg of pure man yearning for your body, your touch.

his hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you into him again, slower this time, deeper, like he’s finally letting himself taste what he’s been dying for.

you arch into him gasping with the counter biting into your skin as he grinds you back against it. the motion is intoxicating, the pull of his teeth on your bottom lip almost making you whimper.

he drags your hips forward, forcing your legs wider around him, one hand locking at the back of your neck to hold you steady as he devours you. his other hand grips your waist like a vice.

it’s frantic and almost violent how fast hes trying to devour you.

but then he does.

he tears his mouth from yours with his chest heaving. his grip lingers another second before he forces it to loosen, before he eases you back down onto the counter.

“fuck, y/n, i-” he cuts himself off and swallows deeply, eyes screwed shut like it’s the only way he won’t cry.

“tell me this is okay,” he asks softly “tell me you want this. because i swear to god, i know it’s fucked up. i know i’m a hypocrite, telling you all that shit about staying away from older guys. i know i told you no, i shoved you away, and now i’ve got no fucking right to put my hands on you like this.”

his fore fingers sweep over your cheeks.

“you’ve got every right to shove me off, every right to tell me to fuck myself. i won’t stop you. i’ll take it. but if this isn’t what you want-” his breath is stuck. “if this is just you doing what you were doing with those two earlier, just acting, just covering up what you really feel? then i’ll stop. i’ll stop right now, i swear."

you reach for his wrists and hold them gently, he stares into your glassy eyes and stutters.

“kuna,” you whisper. “just take me”

he could feel his cock twitch uncontrollably in his pants.

“i’m not uncomfortable,” you reassure him. “i want this. i want you. all of you.”

she's perfect..

his hands tighten ever so slightly on your face, “god,” he whispers again. when you tilt your chin up, giving him permission to continue, he finally lets himself come undone.

it hits you how long this has really been building.

years of it buried in the throw away lines of your everyday life. years of him barging into your room without knocking, stealing your snacks, teasing you until your blood boiled, making sure everyone thought it was just harmless banter when it was always more.

all of it led here.

it all crashes down into this single moment with his forehead against yours, his hands shaking slightly where they cradle your face, the weight of every year, every tease, every scarred piece of your heart smashing together at once.

he kisses you again and its so much more intimate. you whimper into it, clutching his wrists tighter, terrified he’ll vanish again, that he’ll come to his senses and push you away like he did before. but he doesn’t.

he kisses you harder, deeper.

"your lips are so sweet, pretty."

your legs hook tighter around his hips, pulling him in, your body telling him what words already had, you want this, you want him.

the second your mouths break apart, sukuna pulls.

his grip slides from your face down your body, rough palms skimming the skin of your waist, and in the same motion he lifts you off the counter.

"need you closer."

you gasp against his mouth, arms locking around his neck as he carries you straight to the couch. he knows if he doesn’t get you somewhere softer than marble right now he’ll ruin you against the damn kitchen.

the couch swallows you in a messy tumble just before his mouth is on yours again with no patience left.

his hands are already on your thighs, spreading them, kneading the muscle hard enough to make you squirm. he growls low when your skirt rides higher, bunching at your hips, the fabric no match for how badly he wants to get to you.

your fingers fist his shirt, tugging him down, desperate to keep him close, to keep the heat pressed between you. but he’s already dragging the hem of your skirt down, peeling it off like it’s offending him, leaving you bare from the waist down before you can catch your breath.

his eyes burn as they rake over you, and the weight of his stare makes your stomach twist tight. years of teasing, of pretending, of silence, it’s all there in the way he looks at you now, raw, unapologetic, like he’s finally letting himself feast.

he doesn’t waste time. his hands grip your thighs again, thumbs digging in as he drags you closer to the edge of the couch. you let out a breathless sound, your hips already lifting for him, your body giving in without question.

"can i taste you, sweetheart?"

"please, yes please, just-"

and he devours you, absoloutley no warning.

"k-kuna- h-ah!"

sukuna groans into you, the vibration making your toes curl. his grip on your thighs tightens, pinning you open as his mouth works deeper, his tongue dragging, circling, pressing until your entire body is arching up to meet him.

it’s messy and oh so perfect.

"you taste so fucking sweet, holy shit,"

he eats you out like a pro, pulling lewd sounds from deep within your throat.

the world blurs. all you know is his mouth, his tongue, the wet heat making your stomach clench tighter and tighter. you’re gasping his name before you can think and he answers with a sexy sound that vibrates against your clit.

"ryo! i'm- i'm gonna-"

the climax rips through you hard pulling a cry from deep in your chest as your body bows tight. your fingers grip his hair harder but he doesn’t stop his tongue and lips working you through every shudder until you’re gasping limp against the couch.

only then does he pull back, mouth glistening, chin wet, his eyes red and wild as he looks at you.

“fuck,” he rasps, voice gravel scraping low, his chest heaving. "shit, your face when you come, need to see that again."

you can’t answer, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then leans over you again. his mouth crashes to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan into it, the filth of it sparking another rush of heat through your veins.

"i've never been with a girl as gorgeous as you, y/n."

his body presses heavy into yours, his hips grinding down, and you feel the bludge of him against you, thick and hard. you whimper, hips lifting to meet his, and the sound he makes is absolutely feral.

"i've never been with someone as intimidating as you." you reply through breathless speech.

“you make me fucking psychotic,” he mutters into your mouth, his hands already tugging at his belt, your fingers help until the leather slips free and his pants are shoved low enough for him to press his cock against your bare cunt.

the press of him makes your breath stutter, hes so big, so heavy, it's perfect.

he drags the head along your clit slowly and your hips jerk, a sharp whine escaping before you can catch it.

looks you deep in the eye, “this okay?” hes soft and kind with his words. “tell me. i need to hear you say it.”

your chest squeezes, because you hear what he’s really asking. not just for permission, but for forgiveness. for confirmation that you want him after everything he did.

“yes,” you breathe clutching his face holding him there. “please, sukuna. i want you, so badly.”

the relief in his eyes is brief before it’s swallowed by an immense hunger again.

he pushes into you slowly first, dragging every inch out, letting you feel the stretch, the way he fills you. your breath hitches, mouth falling open as your body clenches around him overwhelmed.

“god,” he growls, his eyes squeezing shut as he bottoms out, his hands gripping your waist so tight it hurts. “yr' so tight.”

you cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders, your body adjusting, burning with every pulse.

and then he finally moves.

long, deep thrusts at first, dragging out, pressing back in until you’re gasping, your body arching to meet his. the couch creaks under the rhythm, the slap of skin loud in the dim room, every thrust hitting deep, hitting where you need it.

you can’t hold back the sounds, moans, whimpers, broken cries that tumble out without thought. he snarls at every one, his hips snapping harder, faster, like he’s chasing the noises, like he needs them.

the years of restraint, the bathroom, the parties, the spiral, it all pours out here, in the way he fucks you. relentless, hungry, like he’s reclaiming every second he denied himself.

your body can’t keep up, already tightening again, the build sharp and desperate. “a-aa! ryo-” you gasp, nails clawing at his back.

he groans low, forehead dropping to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. “c'mon baby, come for me,” he rasps, voice ruined. “wanna feel you, fuck, wanna feel you come undone on my cock.”

and you do.

the second climax crashes harder, your body convulsing around him, squeezing, clenching, pulling him deeper. your cry breaks against his ear, and he snarls, hips pounding through it, chasing his own release.

"f-fuck y/n- you're so good baby, you're so- hah-"

it hits him fast, violent, his body tensing above yours. he buries himself deep sound ripping from his chest as he spills inside you, holding you tight against him as if letting go would kill him.

you moan at the feeling of fullness washes over you, pulling and scratching at his bare back. "holy shit- kuna-"

the roomm falls quiet the only sound is your ragged breaths, tangled together, sweat sticking your bodies. his forehead stays pressed to your shoulder, his chest heaving, his grip still bruising on your waist.

and for the first time in years, there’s no teasing, no pretense, no walls. just him. just you. just the wreckage of everything you’ve held back finally, finally spilling free.

"shit, y/n..." he takes a few beats to catch his breath as he lifts his head from your shoulder. "that was fucking mind blowing."

you look up at him as he pulls a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead sweet, long. he looks tired, yet so at peace with himself, like everything he'd ever wanted was lying beneath him, because it was.

your body feels boneless, trembling and heavy, but sukuna doesn’t let you stay collapsed on the couch. the second his breath steadies enough, he presses a long kiss to your forehead, when he finally pulls back, his big hands are still gentle on your waist, thumbs rubbing the spots he’d been holding tight.

“come on,” he murmurs, voice low, ragged from use, but carrying a warmth you’ve never heard from him before. “couch is shit for sleeping.”

you almost laugh, your body too wrung out to manage more than a breathy sound as he carefully lifts you, cradling you against his chest.

his bedroom is tucked away at the end of the hall. he kicks the door open with a heavy boot and sets you down softly on the edge of his bed. the mattress dips under, the sheets cool against your overheated skin.

you expect him to pull back, maybe go to the bathroom or go outside to have a smoke, but he doesn’t. he kneels instead, hands on your ankles, slipping your remaining garments off with surprising care. his touch drags up your calves, soothing, then he leans up to kiss your knee before moving to the dresser.

when he comes back he’s holding a damp towel and a glass of water. “drink,” he orders, but his voice is softer than usual, not sharp, not mocking. when you obey, he watches you finish half the glass before setting it down on the nightstand.

then he takes the towel to you. slow, careful strokes as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess between your thighs, murmuring low praise under his breath. “so good for me,” he says, thumb brushing your hipbone, “look at you, took me so fucking well.”

once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and pulls you further up the bed, tugging the blanket over your legs. then he strips off his shirt, kicks off his jeans, and slides in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest.

you tuck yourself under his chin, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. sukuna exhales slowly with his hand rubbing up and down your back. “been thinking about that for a long time, longer than i’d like to admit.”

“me too,” you whisper pressing closer.

his arm tightens around you, his mouth brushing your hair. “but it isn’t just that.” he shifts slightly, enough to tilt your chin so you’re looking at him. his eyes are softer now, stripped of the usual arrogance, raw in a way that makes your stomach flip. “you’re not just some quick fuck to me, y/n. you’re more than that."

your eyes sting from the weight of his confession. after everything, after the rejection, the pain, the nights you thought he didn’t care at all, to hear this now feels like your chest is cracking open.

“then what are we?”

sukuna’s expression softens in a way you’ve never seen beforehe looks needy and desperate. “i want us to be something real,” he admits, “i want you. all of you. not just like this. not just when i can’t hold it in anymore.”

your breath hitches, chest tightening, like your ribs are too small to hold everything pressing inside. “you mean…?”

he exhales slow, the faintest tug of a smirk curling his mouth, it’s almost tender. “i’m asking you out, dumbass.” the words are gruff, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “be mine. officially. no more hiding. no more pretending i don’t want you every damn second of the day.”

l, searching his face needing to see if he means it. “you really mean that?”

his gaze pins you in place. “i mean it. i want him to know you’re mine. i want everyone to know i’m not letting you go.”

your lips curve into a small smile. “then we’ll tell him. together.”

his hand slides into your hair, cupping the back of your head as he pulls you in for another kiss. this one is softer still, his lips coaxing more than taking. when he finally pulls back, he tucks you against his chest, his hand never leaving your hair.

the silence stretches, but it’s not empty. it hums, alive with everything still unsaid.

you’re the first to break it, your voice small. “why now?”

he shifts slightly, his arm tightening around you. “what do you mean?”

“you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. you rejected me so hard that i thought i’d made it all up in my head. so why now? why tonight?”

sukuna sighs, his chest rising beneath your cheek. “because i couldn’t take it anymore. seeing you at that party with those two? letting them put their hands on you like they had any fucking right?”

his jaw tightens, and you feel the muscle tick beneath your fingertips where your hand rests on him. “i wanted to rip them apart. and it wasn’t just because i was jealous, though i was losing my mind with it. it was because i knew you weren’t with them for you. you were trying to bury something. and i couldn’t watch it anymore.”

you bite your lip, the truth of his words cutting close.

“i told myself rejecting you was the right thing,” he continues, his voice low, strained. “you’re young, you’re my best friend’s little sister, it’s fucked six ways to hell. i thought if i pushed you away hard enough you’d hate me, move on, find someone else. someone who wasn’t me.”

he pauses, the sound of his breath unsteady. “but you didn’t. you just hurt. and i couldn’t stand it. i hurt you more than anyone else ever could. and that’s not what i wanted.”

your throat aches, your eyes sting, but you force the words out. “mm. you did hurt me. you made me think i wasn’t worth anything. i tried to forget you, i tried to fill that space with someone else, with anyone else, but it never worked. because it was never them. it was always you.”

his arm tightens around you until it’s almost crushing, his face burying in your hair. “fuck. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

you shake your head, pressing your palm to his chest. “don’t be sorry now. just don’t do it again. don’t shut me out. don’t pretend this isn’t real.”

he pulls back enough to look at you, his hand sliding up to cup your face. his eyes are raw, open in a way that feels dangerous. “it’s real. it’s the realest fucking thing i’ve ever felt. i’ve wanted you for years." he took a long breath.

"do you know how many nights i sat in your house, drinking with your brother, trying not to look at you when you’d walk past? do you know how many times i wanted to climb through your window when you left it cracked open? do you know how many times i almost gave in, almost touched you when you were right there, but i stopped myself because i didn’t want to ruin you?”

your breath stutters, your pulse racing at the raw honesty spilling from him.

“and every time i teased you,” he goes on, “it was because i couldn’t help myself. i wanted to see you blush, i wanted to see you snap at me, i wanted any reaction that meant i had you looking at me and no one else. i’m a selfish bastard, y/n. i’ve always been selfish when it comes to you.”

your hand slides up his chest, to his jaw. “and i’ve always wanted you, even when i hated you for teasing me. i didn’t care if it was selfish. i just wanted you to look at me like you are now.”

his lips crash to yours, it’s relief, it’s surrender, it’s years of weight finally breaking apart.

when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavy, like the words themselves took more out of you than anything else tonight.

“i don’t know how we’re gonna do this, your brother’s not gonna take it easy. and i’ve fucked up a lot already. but i know one thing.” he tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “i want to try. with you. i want to make this work. i don’t care how messy it is, i don’t care how much hell we catch for it, i want you.”

you nod, your throat too tight for words, tears sliding hot down your cheeks.

he kisses them away, murmuring against your skin. “don’t cry, baby.”

you bury yourself in his chest, your hand clutching his shirt like you’ll never let go.

and for the rest of the night, you talk.

you talk about the first time you realised you wanted him, about how every stupid argument was just another way of circling each other.

he admits how jealous he was about last summer when he found out about gojo and geto, how it killed him to picture you with anyone else. you confess how lost you felt after the bathroom, how much you hated yourself for still wanting him after he’d made you feel like nothing.

he listens, every word sinking deep, and when it’s his turn he lays it all bare. the nights he lay awake thinking about you, the excuses he made to himself to avoid you, the sick twist of guilt every time he thought about what it would mean to toji.

each confession feels like tearing open an old wound, but together you stitch them closed. piece by piece, word by word, you rebuild something stronger.

5k special yayyy !! thank you all so much for all of the love and support it means the world to me.

master list ! || thank you for reading beautiful 💞

[kiki-freak]

18+ content. MDNI!

Gynecologist!Sukuna, a brand new doctor, who just graduated and is finishing his practices, is calling you in by your last name with such a deep voice it sends shivers down your spine when you see him, broad back facing you as he sanitizes the bed you'll soon be sitting on.

As soon as he sees you he smiles politely, tattoos the most prominent feature besides the pink hair and huge muscles fighting to fit inside that flimsy white coat, big frame taking up the whole picture as he moves carefully between medical tables, fully aware of the size he's packing.

“(L/N) (Y/N), right? take a seat” your hot doctor gestures to the chair in front of him as he sits down, looking through your information on the computer before flicking his eyes to yours. “So, tell me, (L/N), what brings you here?”

“Just a check in..” you answer shyly under his intense gaze.

“I see. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?” sharp canines glistens under the bright white light, a dimple on the left side of his smirk starts growing wider as you shake your head no.

Gynecologist!Sukuna begins asking the routine questions necessary to add on your profile data. (along with so many questions about your menstrual cycle).

What is the date of your last period?

Do you have any kids?

Have you had intercourse in the last few days?

How sexually active are you?

“Very well” he simply says standing up, gesturing for the chair behind the folding screen. “Whenever you're ready you may sit on the table over there”

You're stammering when you remember what you're actually here for. Movements stiff when you realize you have to undress.

Make it quick and hopefully you'll never see him again.

No matter how hot you might think he is, Gynecologist!Sukuna is still your doctor. and so he gives you “privacy” to change, turning his broad shoulders towards you while he starts prepping the instruments he'll be using on you, which, unironically, makes you rub your thighs together in anticipation.

Your head fills up with so many questions as to why you decided to bring the ugliest pair of panties you owned, or how you wished you trimmed at least a little more before the appointment. Maybe someone should've told you your doctor was sexy as hell, or maybe you should’ve asked for a woman beforehand.

Naked from the waist down, you step onto the stretcher table with a flushed face, trying (and failing) to let go of the spiral of thoughts that’s stuck up in your head, whilst Sukuna props himself on a swivel chair right between your legs, turning on the small TV screen perched up on the side of the room.

“Now place your feet on the stirrups over here, and come a little closer to the edge- a little more aand- yeah that’s it, just like that” he praises, putting on disposable gloves and gently grabbing the already lubed speculum. Red eyes look over yours once before looming over your wet cunt, holding the instrument close to your entrance with two fingers separating your lips, as he slides it in, stretching you out so good it almost makes you whine.

Maybe you did, because he lets out a little laugh. Or maybe he’s chuckling at how fucking wet you are he probably didn’t even need to use lube in the first place given how dripping your pussy is, it’s embarassing.

He opens up the speculum, velvet walls fighting the need to clench down while he talks you through the slight pain. “Look, that’s your cervix, you see?” he taps at your leg to catch your attention, pointing to the screen that shows the interior of your pussy and you’re left wishing he would map out your insides with something else instead-

A sharp knock on the door interrupts before he could even take a sample.

Gynecologist!Sukuna looks up at the sound calmly. “Ah, that must be the new intern, he’s here to watch. Y’wouldn’t mind if he comes in?” but it’s not even a question for you to answer since he’s already telling them behind the door to come in while you stay still and unable to actually move, clutching at the sides of the leather seat as you crane your neck to watch the intern come into view.

“Sorry ‘m late.” Obstetrician!Toji calls in, huge frame possibly bigger than Sukuna, taking up the space in the office as he smiles at you sprawled open on the table. The mere thought of two hot doctors taking care of you has your pussy leaking down on the surface below, slick moisture having the speculum slowly dribbling out as he hovers over your smaller figure, scarred lip twitching upwards. “Mind if I start my practices with you?”

as a gynecologist myself this was fun and weird heh

divider by @/dollywons

[carriedlikeabriefcase]

Night Changes

Heian Era!Muzan x Wife!Reader

CW: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Size Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Misogyny

WC: 4.2

────୨ৎ────

Gingerly, you brushed away the damp curls that stuck to your husband's forehead. A near permanent fixture as his perspiration never seemed to subside, except perhaps on a rare occasion when the winter solstice was near. The cool weather lulled his body temperature into something more manageable. But that was neither there nor now as summer was quickly approaching.

“Hurry up, woman,” your ill husband snapped, eyes remaining closed, heavy with exhaustion. You let out a shallow sigh as you placed a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. He never thanked you for your faithfulness as his wife, soured from years of living in sickness and solitude. He had only been visited by quack doctors and you, his wife. A bride not of choice, but rather trickery. A move to restore and repair your family's reputation that only ended up with you in a caretaker role. His sole companion was not on his family's payroll, as was your duty.

“Do you feel better?” Your fingers traced over a stray lock of long hair. A soft, loose curl twirled along your index finger as you combed through it.

“No, but I expect your incompetence," he scoffed, expression softening slightly as he added, “Though I suppose you're not entirely at fault. Your purpose is providing an heir, not being my physician.” Your subdued giggle made him stir on the futon, eyes blinking open. He glared at you, demanding to know what was so funny.

“My lord, with all due respect, you can hardly bed me, let alone breed me.” Your grin remained intact as his expression soured. Consummation had been a tricky endeavor. He insisted on you laying beneath him, but could not muster up the strength to act accordingly, being unable to maintain an erection. You had to continuously stroke his ever softening appendage, even bringing yourself to place it in your mouth out of desperation. Eventually, you both got the hang of it, with you straddling him, allowing him to unsteadily rut into you with everything he had until the two of you brought him to completion. Droplets of his weak orgasm ejaculated inside in vain. Yet despite over a year of marriage, no child had been conceived. Likely a side effect of his poor health.

“If those quacks could do their job, perhaps we could do ours.” Muzan frowned, closing his eyes once more. At this point, he was more glum than scornful. It wasn't even the fact that his seed hadn't taken root. He could live with that. What he wanted was to properly take you as a man ought to take his wife, desiring the ability to vigorously fuck you until he truly got his fill. He could not find satisfaction within the half-hearted attempts at coitus he initiated at least once a fortnight. He deserved better. And as his wife, by extension you did too.

“Perhaps.” You wiped away sweat glistening on his cheek. He had enough time to see that was unlikely, as he was not long for this world. Most days were wasted tending to this husk of a man, a petal dearly departed from its flower, withering away with each passing moment. His life slipped from his own fingers despite everyone's best efforts. You didn't wish him dead per se, but you expected it, patiently awaiting the day you were to return to your family.

“Didn't you replace your doctor recently?” Your fingers burned against his skin. He was so warm, contrary to his complexion which was like that of freshly fallen snow, a picture of his illness in the flesh. “Perhaps he will treat you properly.”

Muzan's diaphragm stuttered as he turned his head to cough. The stifle in his breathing manufactured, concealing the way his lips twitched upwards. Most attendants, practitioners, and apothecaries repeated the phrase “buying time,” but not you. He inhaled sharply, gradually catching his breath, chest tightening at your peculiar kindness, and perhaps devotion towards him.

Though he never said it, he adored you for it. Maybe even loved you for it. More unspoken words he feared he'd never have the time to say. The moment was never just right. So, he kept that secret close to his chest.

“They never do.”

The silence exchanged was neither comfortable, nor awkward, but was forged in mutual understanding. You could sympathize with the poor soul. It couldn't possibly be easy leading such a miserable life. But part of you resented his cruelty.

In your short marriage, you had witnessed your husband callously demand for multiple doctors to be arrested and subsequently executed. Each death was nothing less than murder in your opinion. Muzan never felt any remorse for the lives he had stolen, managing to justify it to himself. Moments like those disgusted you. If your family wasn't in such a disadvantaged position prior to your marriage, perhaps you would regret it.

“Would you like to go outside, my Lord?” You dabbed the cloth on his forehead, wiping away any sweat or water that remained. “The sun is setting.” You dipped the cloth into a basin of cool water, waiting for his answer.

“No,” he groaned, wallowing in self pity, opening his eyes once more to look at your pretty face. Against his better judgement, he asked, “May you put that back on my head?”

“Of course.” You wrung the soft material out once, folding it neatly and placing it back on his head. “You need to preserve your energy.”

The man could hardly walk by himself, requiring your assistance when he needed to alleviate himself or bathe. Most attendants were too weary of the pitiful man to do their job, avoiding him at all costs. So not only were you left to nurture him a majority of the time, but you also were required to do grunt work not fit for a noblewoman.

Muzan's chest rumbled in amusement, crackling a rare joke. “Yes. If I rest, I will be well enough to bed you later.”

A sigh slipped past your lips, bemused yet solemn. “If you are well enough. If not, there are alternative methods I can use to satisfy your needs.” Jerking him off, oral, and even once you had even utilized his prostate. Although, he had since denounced engaging in that particular extracurricular.

“Woman, I want the real deal!” His tone was cold and laced with aggravation, but his face remained relaxed, soaking in the chilled moisture you provided him with. Refreshing beads of water soaked into his pores, lowering his temperature. “I want to be able to fuck my wife properly. You should be the one struggling to walk, not me.”

“Ssshhh.” You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “In all due time, My Lord. You just need to be patient.”

Later that night, you took his hand in yours, cradling it gently within your grasp. He had just woken up from a nap, grimacing as he was forced to acknowledge his atypical sleeping pattern. At this hour, he should be asleep, not rising from it.

“How did you sleep, my love?” In the dead of night, you could drop formalities, if only by a fraction. Nobody would be around to overhear, and gossip was a dangerous weapon when utilized properly.

Muzan whimpered, stretching his tender muscles as he forced himself to sit up. Not once did he consider abandoning your touch. It was one of the few simple, albeit unexpected, pleasures in his life. He never expected to marry. What kind of an idiot would want a man on his deathbed? So when his family tricked yours to arrange a marriage while your own was down on their luck, he expected your disgust.

When you were first wed, he saw the disappointment in your eyes. Your disgust. But you stayed true to your duties as a wife, remaining steadfast at his side. You took care of him when nobody else would. So naturally, the two of you would bond, forging an unlikely spark that fanned it into a small, hot flame in spite of the origin of your relationship.

Looking into your eyes now, he saw no disgust — only concern. “Fine, I suppose.”

You guided his hand midair, hovering over your clothed breast. “Then…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. “Would you be up for sex?”

“Typically, it should be I who initiates. It sounds perverse coming from your mouth,” he criticized, unable to help himself.

“My apologies, I can just return to my own quarters,” you teased, lowering his hand to his lap.

His hand snapped up, cupping your breast through your clothing. “Woman, you can not dangle sex over a man's head and take it away. You're playing a very dangerous game.” Your lips parted as your head tipped back from the soft, weak squeeze he gave your curves, struggling to grab you as tightly as he wanted.

“Or what?” You could outrun him by walking and you wouldn't dare proposition another man, not while assault was as prevalent as it was.

“One day...,” His hand fell to his side, “you may live to regret it.”

You snorted, earning a glare from him. “Sorry, it's just…you sound so cheesy.” His scowl deepened and he turned his head from you, conveniently still holding your bosom. You tutted, leaning in as his hand conformed to the shape of your breast. “Aw, don't be like that.” Your lips pressed into his sweaty temple. Salt invaded your senses as you poked out your tongue to lick your lips. “It's not that serious.”

Your lips brushed across his forehead. He remained still, forcing himself not to thrash. “Wife, don't patronize me.”

Another kiss.

“I can stop.”

Crimson burned the tips of his ears, permitting throughout his face. “Don't you dare.”

“Very well,” you happily obliged, dusting chaste kisses all over his face. His skin burned to the touch, his cheeks flushed from emasculation. Yet he couldn't get enough. Eventually, your lips ghosted over his, unsure if you should take that final leap. It wasn't often the two of you exchanged kisses to no fault of your own. He just simply wasn't well enough much of the time.

Muzan rolled his eyes at your hesitation, closing the gap for you to swallow your gasp, knocking the breath out of your lungs while moving his own slightly chapped lips against yours. Drinking and relishing in your shock. Knitting his eyebrows in contempt as only humiliation arose.

You broke the kiss, reaching out to touch him but stopping yourself halfway, rescinding your hand as his anger brewed.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, glowering at you. As much as you wished to roll your eyes, or make a witty retort, you kept your mouth shut. Further upsetting him would only push him one step closer to his grave and he was already teetering on the edge.

“As you wish, My Lord.” You lowered him slowly onto his back, keeping your head down to avoid eye contact. You were not afraid of a man too frail to hurt a fly, yet you couldn't bring yourself to maintain equality. It just wasn't the place of a wife. Once his back was flush to his futon, you whispered, “Am I dismissed?”

His stomach burned, a flame of desire that he could not quench. “Get out of my sight. Your presence disturbs me.”

“As you wish.”

Multiple rotations of the sun had passed, and not once had you been permitted to see your husband. Even after sneaking into his room one night, he was nowhere to be found. Had he finally perished without so much as a goodbye?

No.

It was very possible, but a gut feeling gnawed at your senses. If he were dead, you would've been informed and quite possibly sent back to your father already. Something was wrong, but it wasn't nearly as morbid as your husband's untimely demise. Perhaps he was just that furious about his inability to achieve a stable erection? Who could say for sure?

As you laid awake on your futon, you could hear a faint, feminine scream. Temporarily, your muscles became paralyzed, forcing you to remain in place. Fighting your body's instinct, you forced yourself to sit up, flinching as you heard a THUD not far from your room. You rationalized that someone had simply fallen, with no reason to be askance.

Then your shoji door slid open, and in the filtered moonlight, you finally saw your husband for the first time in days. But something was completely off about him. He was covered in blood, ruby gemstones splattered across his face in a crude display of art. The scent of copper clung to his clothing, saturated in the fresh iron, staining it with terror — likely not his own.

“Muzan?” you gasped as he approached without assistance. He did not limp, or struggle, carrying himself with the refined poise and grace a nobleman should. Your nose scrunched, heart stammering in your chest rapidly elevating your blood pressure. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He scoffed, “Don't be stupid.”

“You're covered in blood,” you pointed out, breathing slowly to remain calm. A clear head was required right now. Your eyes fixated on the open door behind him. Perhaps you could run?

Before you could move, you were pinned to your futon. His body was freakishly heavy on top of yours. He had never been this lithe. This was not your husband's body, but it was his face…

Sort of.

Normally, sleep didn't rejuvenate him the way it would a healthy body. Dark circles usually traced his sunken eyes. But both features had been erased, vanishing as though they were never there. Perhaps this remedy was truly a curse. A blemish created by the gods. But how could his… whatever this was, be a blemish? He was perfect.

“What are you doing?” You struggled beneath him, clammy palms pressing into his usually built chest.

“What I have been wanting to do since the day we were wed.” A clawed hand trailed down your clothing, ripping the outermost layer of fabric as he traced over your figure. You cried out helplessly as his sharp nails dug into your kimono, tearing at you until no cloth was left to cling onto your skin. Having been married, you were accustomed to him seeing your bare skin. But never like this. Never had he possessed the energy to literally shred your clothing piece by piece; layer by layer.

With your arms, you covered your bare breasts, thighs pressed together to protect what little modesty lingered. But of course, he pried your legs apart, revealing what he had yearned for for so long.

“Don't you dare try to hide from me,” he ordered, making eye contact to get his point across. Exhaling a thick puff of air, you felt your mouth go dry, attempting to push your thighs together to no avail. He was stronger than you.

He was stronger than you.

Against your better judgement, you asked, “My Lord…did that doctor heal you?”

“He did more than heal me, my queen.” He began to sensually remove his own layers of clothing, pausing to squeeze your thigh. “You will see soon enough. Live it soon enough.” His touch ghosted over your hot skin, palm planting firmly over your lower abdomen. “But first, you must fulfill your obligation to me.” An experiment of sorts.

You watch the silk fall to the ground, swallowing thickly as you understood what that entailed. “Yes, Lord Muzan.” Your legs willingly parted for him, as was expected, but you couldn't help but allow confusion to take control. Who was this man, and what had he done with your dear, sickly husband? Why was this near imposter in his place? You stared at him in the dull lighting, perplexed by his figure. This wasn't the frail man you had grown accustomed to; near skin and bones were replaced with a body fit for a god. Lean and perfectly toned with sculpted muscles practically bulging through his pale skin, his complexion was the only reminder of his previous, infected state.

Lowering your gaze, you were met with a swollen appendage that you KNEW was much larger than before. “Muzan…” You bit your tongue, swallowing the bitter bile invading your esophagus. “That's not going to fit.”

Your body jolted as he slammed two fingers into your core. “I'll make it fit.”

“Slow down,” you whined, feeling as though your insides were being torn apart. The stretch burned; you had only known languid foreplay. This sudden shift was so foreign. “Please.”

Muzan ignored your exasperated pleas, far too focused on exploring your body properly. His fingers rapidly pumped in your increasingly wet cunt, fully drinking in the satisfaction of pleasuring his wife. Each unsure, blissed-out whimper stroked his fragile ego in ways he hadn't even dreamed. His cock was burning with desire, hot to the touch, twitching painfully as he patiently waited, wanting to discover everything he had been missing. Everything literature and degrading positions had yet to teach him.

His thumb brushed across your clit, an experiment on his behalf. By the way your spine curved and thighs trembled, he realized that you enjoyed that particular nub being toyed with. Fascinating. While he had watched you touch yourself before, never had he seen you toy with yourself to the fullest potential.

Your hand retreated to your mouth, covering your saccharine song. Your cheeks were heated with embarrassment, eyes drifting into the darkness to avoid looking at the man. Pain permeated around your hand as his fingers looped harshly around your own, forcing it down. He muttered into the night, “You are to sing for me without inhibition.” Muzan was entitled to bask in the glory of every stroke of your voice. A beautiful melody he had yet to hear at fortissimo, as any prior fornication had been subpar. Never again would he allow himself to be so humiliated.

Gliding his fingers as they were enveloped in soaked silk, smugness filled the hole in his heart as he caressed your g spot, curving his knuckles. Watching as your breathing grew more and more shallow, muscles tensing tighter with each magnificent brush stroke across your clit. Tight circles were drawn into the bundle of nerves. With each trace around the circumference, more pressure was subtly added, like water filling a dam until it snapped under pressure.

A harsh cry tore from your throat; the fibers of your muscles condensed to the smallest they could be before your entire body went limp. Your pussy pulsated uncontrollably around Muzan's fingers, squeezing them as he continued to toy with that sweet spot inside your core. The ways he could abuse your little cunt were once a mere fantasy, only now coming true.

“Muzan! Please!” You squirmed beneath his imposing new stature, looking up at him with teary eyes but unable to fully make him out in the moonlight and blurred, obscured vision.

“Have you forgotten your place?” The pad of his thumb skated over your puffy clitoris. “How does a proper wife address her husband?” You were the next best thing to perfection from his point of view. He would not allow you to taint that image with disrespect. You were above all others, but still beneath him. Perhaps once you served him, he could grant leniency. But until then?

“My L-lord… I-I've had enough,” you stammered out, vision a blank sheet of parchment as pleasure was ripped from you once more. His hand soaked in your honey, leaving it dripping with the evidence of your high. Chest heaving, lungs unable to keep supply the inflated demand. You just barely managed to choke out, “Please,” which merely ghosted his eardrums.

For a moment, there was respite, his hand retreating from your molten core as lava dripped onto your futon. The essence of sordid activities stained the bedding, leaving behind no trace of stolen innocence. He wiped away blood from his cheek, mixing pain and pleasure in the most unsavory way imaginable. “Open your mouth.” Your jaw clenched before your lips obediently parting, allowing debauchery to flood your taste buds. Death flooded your mouth, meeting with the bile in the back of your throat as you swallowed. As you grimaced, he grinned, swirling his fingers on your tongue. “You are to get used to blood, wife. I will not have a wife with a weak stomach.” If a child were ever conceived, he was sure you'd have to consume flesh for his child to be compatible with life. Human morality was beneath him now, and therefore it was for you as well.

His invasion of your senses fell back, leaving behind only the taste of copper. An unpleasant flavor that you'd later wash away with copious amounts or water and tea. But you could never drown out the memory, so there was only accepting your husband.

Accepting this.

Resignation that perhaps one day could blossom into something more. The seed had been planted. Muzan only needed to nurture you — groom you into being the perfect demon queen.

“Yes, My Lord.” There was not an ounce of doubt in your voice, only misplaced trust. For what else was a wife supposed to do if not obey her husband? “As you wish.”

He could not restrain himself for a moment longer, pumping his cock in his fist twice before lining up at your leaky hole. You shuddered as he mounted you properly for the first time, hooking your thighs over his hips. He slammed swiftly into your cunt, painfully stretching your walls into the mold of his cock, replacing the inferior design he has already engraved.

“It…it hurts a little,” you spoke between clenched teeth, pussy searing in pain as he lost himself in you. You were left to reminisce about the former, gentle love making of the past. He was no longer a pathetic man, wallowing in his own sickness. That man no longer walked the earth, replaced by one superior in all ways but one.

“Take it anyway.” His pelvis slammed into yours with each heavy thrust, balls smacking against your ass, heavy from need, already aching for release.

“B-” To silence you, he sunk his fangs into the meat of your shoulder, puncturing the flesh while carefully avoiding any vital points. He reveled in the scream you let out and the subsequent sob that followed, holding you in place as your body thrashed beneath him. He took a sip of your humanity, savoring it as he retracted his bite, flattening his tongue to sample the most divine human of all. The only one worthy of his mercy, yet he showed none.

The pain began to melt away as his tongue traced over your throat. A subdued whimper slipped beyond your lips as blood smeared across your neck like paint on a blank canvas. Muzan could feel your pulse increase, growing smug in your fear. Euphoria coursed through his veins. Each sound you made was pure adrenaline injected into his bloodstream.

“Gods, you're practically perfection!⁹” His lips captured yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He drank your moans like sweet ambrosia as you slowly grew accustomed to the taste of your own iron. Your bodies moved in twisted romance as your arms looped around his neck, entangling one hand in his luscious, long curls. The other raked your nails along his trapezius, memorizing the new bulge of muscle with the trace of your touch. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you allowed him to angle himself even deeper, seducing him into burying the tip of his veiny cock into your cervix. You cry out from how full you felt as you kissed that delicate tissue protecting your womb.

Your head lolled back, a moan vibrating in your throat, “So are you.”

“You belong to me,” he grunted, pushing your thighs to your torso, your skin sticky with sheer sweat, “For eternity.”

"Yes, My Lord.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Anything for you...," you moaned until the overwhelming pleasure turned all thoughts and words into meaningless dribble. Your voice became a lost echo in the void as Muzan continued to relentlessly fuck into you, his tip punching deep into your core. He was well aware that you weren't quite sure what you had just agreed to, but the contract forged between you had been forged in blood and sealed with thick demon cum as he flooded your womb, holding you in place as he emptied every last drop into you.

“S'full,” you murmured aimlessly into the night, never once having felt his seed fill your pussy. You couldn't comprehend what had happened to him. How could he go from barely making a few drops to this? Your cunt was stuffed to the brim, milky white fluids dripping out as he began to slowly rock his hips again.

Slowly rock his hips again…

Why wasn't he done?

“I thought you finished,” you whined, confusion etched into your tone as you attempted to wiggle away to no avail, writhing beneath him as you struggled.

He snickered, flashing you a dangerous grin. “How naive.”

Who was this man and what had he done with your husband?

[kiki-freak]

about me ⊹♡⋆˚

the name's kiki ! ive been using tumblr for a really long while, but this is the first time I open a writing one!!

english is not my first language :( i might have lots of grammar errors but i'll try my best!! i've been writing since i was a teenager! my very first fics were about FNAF on wattpad <3 also i was banned once bc of a problematic fic nd my account got deleted teehee

i'm also an obgyn and a full time mom n.n!!

what i write ⊹♡⋆˚

✩₊˚.⋆non-con/dubcon; yandere/toxic dynamics; angst; fluffy stuff; fluid play (cum, blood, piss, etc); age play; ddlg; incest;.

✩₊˚.⋆i only write female/afab readers for now !!

✩₊˚.⋆i'm still trying to find my personal style so my writing may change ^^

banner by ren ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) on pinterest <3 and dividers by @/dollywons !!

[kiki-freak]

Sigh I can’t believe I’m requesting this but I don’t see many people who write for piss kinks sadly anddd… I really enjoyed your writing for geto… could you do one where he pees inside of us? 👀 and we feel like really full…

sorry I'm late :( work has been a pain in the ass lately... n e ways I ENJOYED THIS SM THANK YOU FOR ASKING <333🙏💚

CW: dub-con, f!reader, smut, watersports, praise kink, suguru is a bit of an asshole heh, nasty stuff

18+ content. mdni.!

The first time it happened Suguru wasn't very fond of the idea, but he was willing to give it a try for you, who seemed noticeably more excited by the prospect.

After that night something visibly changed in him. He had that look on his face, an expression only a man who found exactly what he spent so long searching for without even knowing could wear.

He was insatiable now.

You had to come to an agreement where this particular game is brought only on certain occasions, not an everyday kind of sex.

Or else, you'd be covered in piss more times that you'd like to admit.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you're tight” Suguru grunts, thrusting his hips, the bulbous tip pushing the ring of resistance with a stingy sensation more pleasurable than not.

This was supposed to be one of those special dates.

“Gripping me like you miss-hah- missed me” his hand finds a place on the inner side of your thigh, keeping your legs spread. Eyes locked to where you're both connected as he bottoms out with a groan. “Fuck” he breathes out. Lazy thrusts fall into an addictive rhythm, filling you to the brim each time. “‘M gonna fill you up real good, baby”

Though you usually leave these nights for the bathroom, where you can actually clean after the mess. But he insisted.

You clench around him, your gummy walls sucking him in with force, “Yeah? You'd like that pretty girl? Wanna have your belly full of me?”

Suguru grits his teeth, emphasizing his words in every thrust so hard your eyes roll backwards, pulling little breathless gasps out of you.

This has become a fascination for him. Watching you get drenched in his yellow, steamy fluid. Getting off by the humiliation of being peed on, especially if it's your face that gets ruined, and you'll be there just taking it like a good girl.

When you're showering together he likes to bother you right after turning off the faucet, you feel a warm liquid run down the back of your legs, and probably don't register first but as it clicks, the smell has already impregnated your nostrils. You gasp and complain that you've just showered! But he's not as worried, chuckling cynically with lidded eyes that mimic the desire pooling down your core.

You can't be that mad when all you can hear is his urine dripping down the tile floor unashamedly, something that has you already rubbing your thighs together as the musky scent mixes with the leftover soap in the drain.

Nails claws at his biceps for support when he folds you into a mating press right at the edge of the bed, cock so deep inside it feels like you're gonna split in half everytime the tip pushes your cervix, it's like he's trying to challenge your anatomy and see if it can actually make more room between your spongy walls.

“Oh, Sugu, fuck- so, so deep” you cry out as his thumb reaches down to press lazy circles around your wet clit, your pussy sucking him in greedily, a white hot pleasure spreading thorough your body fading down just as his pace start to falter, hips steadying for a moment inside with eyes tightly shut in an unfamiliar expression you can’t quite read. The question forms on your lips but he beats you to talking first.

“I’m ‘bout to burst, baby” usually you find those words thrilling, letting him manhandle you to his likings while trailing down his own orgasm, feeling it twitch and throb around your cunt, balls slapping heavily against the curve of your ass.

This time they felt slightly unnerving, the true meaning behind those words slipping out feeling slightly dumb for not believing it sooner. Eyes snap open, realization hitting your face as you begin to push him away with no luck, your boyfriend’s already long gone.

“W-wait, Suguru not inside!” It's no use. He's already emptying his bladder. Oh.

Oh.

“Mhm. Take it, baby, take it for me”

Eyes roll to the back of his head, looking up to the ceiling, breathless moans escape his lips as he uses you like one would use the bathroom. Your pussy's tight but his urine is so abundant and it's coming out with such forceful spurts against your cervix it might as well reach past that wall, piss already leaking out of your hole into the floor and mattress below in vulgar splashing sounds that's making you see white, his fingers has never stopped their ministration to your clit. You're actually feeling so full like a balloon full of water were to fight its way inside, stretching you open you can evidently see a small dent in the bottom of your core right above your cunt, a sensation you've never imagined to experience and didn't primarily want to, but god, being so full of his warm piss in your womb it's making you cum in a way you hadn't expected it to affect you that much.

Suguru looks down when your legs start trembling, toes curling, hot pleasure shoots through your muscles all the way up to your head, nails scratching his arms in an attempt to regain some sort of self control, hips thrusting on their own in tandem to his movements on your little ball of nerves. Delirium flashes in your eyes as you ride out the mind shattering orgasm bursting through your veins, moaning his name or what you guess might be saying, babbling incoherences and breathless gasps instead.

Suguru lazily drives his pelvis into yours after he's done, eyes scanning the mess made below. He's pulling out slowly, obsessed by the sight of your pussy clutching and failing to hold him any longer, his own piss leaking out in small gushes, releasing a slouching mushy sound so vulgar it makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

His hand finds your neck keeping you in place as the other one clutches his dick, jerking off with an almost torturous sensation, the pain subsiding over the pleasure by imagining you drenched full in his piss next, all fucked out and covered in that particular odor. In his odor.

“Ah, fuck, baby. Open up your legs a little bit more- yeah there we go, just like that, good girl” he's enchanted by the way your pussy still spasming, tensing in an out, soaked in his fluids in a thick mix of smells in the air that he can almost taste. He's rubbing said fluids all over his shaft, biting his lip when your fingers skim over your entrance, playing with your folds and collecting the dripping juices to replace his hand with yours, smearing it all over the pink tip, pumping it up and down eliciting sweet whimpers out of his mouth. Suguru let his fingers wander around your pussy lips, spreading them open with two of them, gathering the moisture before putting them in his mouth and savoring the tangy flavor with a hum.

“Mmh” observing your every reaction, his hand pushes down your womb, fingers back to hover on your slit with a smug smirk. “I wanna cum when you pee. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His praise shouldn't be having the effect they weigh, but yet they do, and you're compelling to his every wish. He smiles.

“I know you can baby, show me”

tempted to try this irl... 🩷

[demistarz]

One Step Heavy and Two Steps High...

ᯓ➤college smau hitting up plug!jjk for the first time.. multi character.. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko, choso.

ᯓ➤WARNINGS.. mild flirting, plug talk?, use of drugs..

ᯓ➤ because of the faulty experience you have had with your last few "plugs" your friend gives you the number of a friend of theirs who deals in their spare time. it's worth a shot right..

notes: shoko is implied to be a mutual friend pretty much. choso was known from a party a couple nights before. n e waysss hope u guys enjoy!! let me know what u think!!

all works are made and published by demistarz!! not to be translated or reposted

[chooppi]

01. A STREAMER - YOU BRING ME HOME

ROBLOX GAMERS | MASTERLIST | TWO

PAIRING: streamer!choso x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: kamo choso is a famous streamer who doesn’t seem to care about anything, but when you suddenly start reaching out and gojo satoru is determined to get you two together, he finally finds something to care about.

TAG LIST: @getfroggy1360 @jelxqa @randiiii @himezoro @squishytap @wingstoyourdreams @catalinasroom