── synopsis .✦ when you grow insecure about your weight and body, and worry for whether you're distasteful, your husband – hiromi higuruma – reminds you that he thinks the complete opposite!
── contains .✦ plus size!reader, smut, pwp/little plot, oral (f!recieving), face sitting, praise kink, higuruma is a thighs/belly man, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, teasing, mdni!
── word count .✦ 2.1k!
The dim light of the apartment cast soft, golden shadows across the room, creating an intimate haven where the outside world – the courts, the laws, and the endless stress of Higuruma’s profession – simply ceased to exist.
Hiromi sat on the edge of the bed, his tie loosened and his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.
You stood a few feet away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You were wearing a soft, oversized shirt that clung to the generous curves of your hips and the plush softness of your stomach.
You loved Hiromi, and you knew he loved you, but there was always that lingering, quiet voice in the back of your mind: the one that whispered you were too much, too heavy, too wide. You felt the softness of your thighs rubbing together, the way your belly curved gently over the waistband of your panties, and a wave of nervousness washed over you.
Hiromi noticed, as he always did. He didn’t look at you with judgment; he looked at you with a hunger that was almost predatory, yet tempered with a profound, aching tenderness.
To him, your body wasn’t “too much” – it was a masterpiece of softness and warmth; a refuge he craved.
“Come here, darling.” He murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble that vibrated in your chest.
You stepped closer, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Hiromi... I…”
“No more doubting,” he interrupted softly, reaching out to wrap his large, warm hand around your waist.
He pulled you flush against him, his palm splaying across the curve of your hip, squeezing the plush flesh there.
Groaning softly, the sound vibrated against your side. “You are perfect. Every single inch of you is exactly where it should be.”
He guided you toward the center of the bed, his intentions clear. He laid back, bracing himself against the pillows, his eyes locking onto yours. He motioned to his face, a silent, commanding invitation.
Hiromi wanted you to sit on him – he wanted your weight, your warmth, and your scent to overwhelm him.
You froze, your breath hitching. The thought of your full weight pressing down on his face sent a jolt of anxiety through you.
“I can’t... Hiromi, I’m too heavy. I’ll– I’ll crush you, or you won’t be able to breathe, and I—”
“Shh…” He commanded, though his tone remained affectionate. “I wanna feel you. I want every pound of you pressing me into the mattress. I want to be smothered by you, angel.”
You hesitated, your legs trembling slightly. You tried to lower yourself slowly, but the fear held you back, leaving you hovering just inches above his mouth.
You were terrified that the moment you fully committed, he would realize you were too much.
Hiromi had seen enough. He didn’t want your hesitation; he wanted you.
With a sudden, decisive movement, his hands shot up, gripping your thick, soft thighs. His fingers sank deep into your flesh, anchoring you. With a powerful tug, he pulled you down, forcing your hips directly onto his face.
A gasp escaped your lips as you landed. The impact was sudden and absolute: your plush pussy landed squarely over his mouth and nose, the heat of your body meeting the heat of his breath.
You let out a small, panicked whimper, trying to lift yourself back up, but Hiromi’s grip was iron. He locked his arms around your ass, pulling you down harder, grinding his face upward into your soaking wet folds.
“Stay.” He demanded, the word muffled against your skin. “Don’t you dare move.”
The sensation was overwhelming. Because of the way you were positioned, the bridge of Hiromi’s prominent nose pressed firmly and directly against your clit. It wasn’t a soft touch; it was a solid, insistent pressure that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to your core.
You arched your back, your fingers digging into the bedsheets as you let out a loud, shaky moan.
“Haa..! H-Hiromi! Oh god..."
He didn’t stop. He began to grind his nose against your clit while his tongue flicked out to lap at your opening. The friction was delicious, and he was using the structure of his face to massage you, the hard cartilage of his nose providing a constant, blunt stimulation that made your toes curl.
“You feel so good, angel.” He groaned, his voice vibrating directly against your pussy.
The vibrations of his speech traveled through your nerves, turning the pleasure into something electric.
“So soft and—haah—thick... I love how you feel on me. I love these thighs.. ’nd this stomach..”
He began to suck, his lips forming a tight seal around your clit and dragged. Pulling and releasing, he created a vacuum that drew the blood rushing to your sensitive tissues.
You were shaking now, your plump thighs quivering against his cheeks. The feeling of being completely surrendered to him, of having your weight fully accepted and craved, began to melt away your insecurity.
“Mmgh... Hiromi, please... it’s too much— ah!” You cried out, your voice breaking into a sob of pleasure.
“’S not enough.” He countered, muffled but firm. He shifted his jaw, using his tongue to dive deep inside you, swirling around while his nose continued to rub relentlessly against your clit. “I wanna taste every drop of you. Wanna worship you, angel."
The combination of the blunt pressure from his nose and the wet, swirling heat of his tongue was driving you toward the edge.
You felt the tension building in your lower stomach, a coil of heat tightening with every flick of his tongue. You began to grind instinctively, your hips rolling against his face, pushing yourself deeper onto him.
“Uh huh, just like that, darling.” He affirmed, making you shudder atop of him. "Mmf– keep it up, love… gotta learn these curves by heart.. "
The obscene affection in his words – combined with the raw physical sensation – pushed you over.
Your slick walls clamped down hard on his tongue, and pulsed delicately around the muscle. A lewd keen ripped from your throat as your first orgasm crashed over you.
“H– Hiromi! Nhaa..!”
You collapsed against him, your body shuddering in the afterglow, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You felt heavy, limp, and completely spent.
For a moment, you worried that you were suffocating him, but Hiromi didn’t push you away. Instead, he held you tighter, his hands massaging your ass, pulling you closer still.
He didn’t move away. Rather, stayed right there, his breath hot against your soaking wet skin. He began to lick you slowly, cleaning up the cream of your climax with long, slow strokes of his tongue.
“Fuck, look at that…” He whispered. “So wet, hmm? Liked it that much, love?”
You let out a soft, shaky breath, your heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. “I... I didn’t crush you?”
Hiromi let out a low, amused chuckle that vibrated through your entire pelvic floor, sending a fresh spark of arousal through you.
“Crush me? Darling, I could stay under you for the rest of my life. I love the weight of you, ’nd I love how you wrap around my face. You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
The sincerity in his voice, the way he spoke to your body with such reverence, made you feel a warmth that had nothing to do with sex. You felt cherished; seen.
But the pleasure wasn’t over. As the initial wave of the orgasm receded, the sensitivity remained.
Every small movement of his tongue felt like a spark on a powder keg, and it was clear that Hiromi knew exactly what he was doing. He began to tease you, his tongue lightly dancing around your clit without quite touching it, creating an agonizing tension.
“Hiro... please..!” You whined, your hips beginning to twitch.
“Please what, angel?” He teased, his voice a low purr. “D’you want more? You want me to make you scream again?”
“Uh huh… need it.”
In turn, he didn’t rush – spent the next several minutes worshipping your body.
He shifted slightly, allowing you to slide back just enough so he could look up at you, though he kept his face pressed against your cunt. Reaching up, his hands sliding under your shirt to squeeze your breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples.
“You’re so soft.” He murmured, his eyes dark with lust. “Every curve, every fold... it’s all so—mmh—pretty. Just wanna spend hours just exploring you.”
Cupping them, his fingers squeezed the heavy mounds, pawing at your nipples. He kneaded your tits with a hunger that mirrored the way he was eating you out, treating your body like a feast he intended to devour completely.
He moved down, his large hands finding the soft, generous curves of your thighs.
As he gripped them, his fingers sunk deep into the plush flesh, kneading the skin with a possessive intensity. He loved the way your thighs spilled over his hands, the sheer abundance of you that he could hold and still want more of.
“So sweet,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at you, though his mouth was glistening with your juices. His eyes were dark, blown out with lust. “Do you have any idea what this does to me?”
He slid his hands upward, moving from your thighs to the soft swell of your stomach. He began to massage your belly, his palms circling the warmth of your skin, squeezing the soft rolls with a reverence that bordered on worship.
To him, every curve was a masterpiece, every soft fold a place for him to lose himself.
“Mmgh... ahn! Hiromi..!” You moaned, your head tossing back, your hips beginning to grind automatically against his mouth once more.
“Shh. Just take it, angel.” He commanded, his voice soft but firm. “Keep grinding, yeah? Gimme more.”
He dove back in, his tongue swirling around your clit in a wide, wet circle before suctioning it hard into his mouth.
You let out a loud mewl of pleasure, your body shuddering – the amalgamation of his mouth working magic on your pussy and his hands relentlessly pawing at your stomach and thighs was sending you over the edge.
“Uhn– getting close, aren’t you? Tightening up around my tongue..” He questioned, sending shivers up your spine. “Gripping me so good..”
“I can’t– oh! I can’t take it, I’m going to—!”
“Do it.” He pushed, tone thick with desire. “Cum on my face again, love.”
You couldn’t help it – the pleasure peaked, a tidal wave of ecstasy that drowned out everything else. You felt your pussy clench around his face, squeezing him tight as you spiraled into a blur of white-hot sensation.
As you came down from the peak, you felt him licking you with a slow, possessive hunger. He didn’t let you move, keeping you pinned to his face, ensuring you felt every bit of his devotion.
“There we go…” He cooed, pulling back to trail kisses up your inner thighs. When your vision focused once more, you were greeted with the sight of him looking up at you with so much adoration your heart swelled.
You sat there for a long time, draped over him, the silence of the room filled only by the sound of your synchronized breathing. You felt a profound sense of peace, the insecurities that had plagued you for years silenced by the raw, honest hunger of the man beneath you.
Hiromi shifted, sliding his arms around your back to pull you down and onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle, cocooning you in his warmth. He kissed your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin.
“I love you, okay?” He assured quietly, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and you gave a lazy nod.
Meanwhile, you snuggled into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, knowing that in his arms, you were exactly where you belonged.
a/n: higuruma mentioned drools i like being inclusive
જ⁀➴ mechanic!toji offers to fix your car when it breaks down... but for a price. - mdni!
The cold metal of the hood pressed hard against your breasts, the engine’s heat still radiating through the steel and warming your skin. You were bent double, your ass shoved high in the air, completely exposed to the humid air of the garage.
Toji didn’t give you a second to adjust. He stepped in close, his massive frame looming over you like a predator. His large, calloused hands – slick with black engine oil and grime – slid firmly onto your hips.
He gripped you with a bruising strength, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and leaving thick, dark streaks of oil smeared across your pale skin.
“Look at you.” Toji chuckled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against your spine. “All worked up over a broken alternator. You’re shaking, sweetheart. Is it the cold, or are you just excited to finally pay your tab?”
You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the edge of the car for support. “You’re... you’re a prick,” you gasped, though the way you arched your back into him betrayed you.
“Maybe,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “But I’m the only prick within ten miles who knows how to fix this piece of shit you call a car.”
The situation had been desperate.
Your car had sputtered and died on the shoulder of a dusty road just a few miles from his shop. By the time you’d managed to limp the vehicle into his bay, you were stressed, sweaty, and – most importantly – completely broke.
When Toji had given you the estimate for the repairs, your jaw had dropped. You didn’t have half the amount he was asking for.
Toji had leaned back against his workbench, crossing his muscular arms over a grease-stained tank top that barely contained his chest, watching you scramble through your purse with a cocky, knowing smirk.
“Tell you what.” He’d announced, his eyes scanning your body with blatant hunger. “I don’t take IOUs. But I’m feeling generous today. I’ll waive the labour fee... if you can find a different way to compensate me.”
Now, that ’compensation’ was in full swing.
Toji reached down, his oil-stained hand sliding between your thighs. He didn’t waste time with gentleness; he shoved two thick fingers deep inside you with a sudden, forceful thrust.
“Nhh! Oh god—!” You cried out, your head snapping back, a loud moan echoing through the rafters of the garage. You were already soaking, your body reacting instinctively to his dominance.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” Toji groaned, his voice thickening. He pumped his fingers hard, mimicking the motion of a cock, stretching you open while his other hand continued to smear oil across your hips, marking you as his. “So eager to pay up. I bet you’ve been thinking about this since I told you the price, haven’t you?”
“Shut up... just... please…” You whimpered, your hips beginning to grind instinctively against his hand.
“Please what? Please fuck you? Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me exactly how you want to pay me.” He teased, slowing his fingers down just enough to make you crave more, his thumb circling your clit with a punishing pressure.
“Please fuck me! Just do it!” You practically screamed, your voice breaking into a sob of pleasure.
Toji let out a dark, triumphant laugh. He withdrew his fingers and quickly shucked his trousers, his massive, thick cock springing free.
It was heavy and pulsing, a stark contrast to the grime of the workshop. He didn’t use a condom; he didn’t use lube. Then again, he didn’t need to – you were more than wet enough.
He grabbed your waist again, hauling your hips back until there was no space left between you. With one powerful, singular thrust, he buried himself inside you to the hilt.
“Wh– nhaa!” You whined, your eyes rolling back as your internals were completely filled. The sheer size of him stretched you to the limit, the sensation overwhelming and electric.
Toji groaned, a deep, guttural sound of satisfaction. “Fuck... you’re so tight. Heh, I might actually enjoy this job.”
He began to move, his pace relentless and bruising. Every thrust sent a shockwave through your body, slamming your chest against the hood of the car. The rhythm was primal: the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the metallic echoes of the garage.
Toji wasn’t being careful; he was fucking you with a cocky intensity, his chest slamming into your back, his oil-covered hands leaving a chaotic map of black streaks all over your thighs and waist.
“You like this, don’t you?” He grunted, leaning forward to bite the nape of your neck. “Getting fucked on your own goddamn car because you’re too broke to pay the bill. You’re a little—hnngh—mess, aren’t you?”
“I—ah, yes! Oh god, Toji! Faster... please– faster!” You wailed, your moans turning into incoherent cries of pleasure.
He complied, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more violent. He was hammering into you, driving you further and further toward the edge.
You could feel the friction building, the heat between your legs becoming an inferno. You were clinging to the car for dear life, your knuckles white, your breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
“Look at you... taking it all…” Toji whispered, his voice strained. “Fuckin’ slut. Just keep taking it f’me.”
The climax hit you like a freight train. Your slick walls clamped down on him in tight, rhythmic spasms, and you let out a long, obscene keen that echoed through the shop.
Seconds later, Toji let out a low growl, his body stiffening as he surged deep inside you one last time, filling you with a hot, thick load of cum.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you panting heavily, the only sound the ticking of the cooling engine beneath you. Toji slowly pulled out with a wet pop, leaving you slumped over the hood, trembling and covered in a mixture of oil and sweat.
He stepped back, adjusting his clothes with a smug expression, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He reached over and patted the hood of the car.
“Alright. All settled. Your car’s good to go.” He spoke up, his voice returning to that smug, teasing lilt.
You groaned, slowly pushing yourself up, your legs feeling like jelly. “I hate you so much.”
“Sure you do.” He smirked.
Just as you were about to climb into the driver’s seat, a loud, metallic clang echoed from under the hood, followed by the distinct sound of something snapping and a hiss of steam shooting up into the air.
The silence that followed was deafening.
You stared at the steam, then slowly turned your head to look at Toji.
Toji stared at the engine, his smirk faltering for a split second. He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, awkward chuckle escaping his lips.
“Uh…” He started, glancing back at your flushed face and your oil-streaked hips. A mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Looks like a bolt snapped. My bad.”
You opened your mouth to scream, but he stepped closer, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass one more time.
“Tell you what,” he whispered, leaning in. “I’ll fix it for free... if you’re up for another round of payment?”
── synopsis .✦ although you're meant to be asleep, you can't help but seek a little bit of extra attention from your boyfriends: toji fushiguro and ryomen sukuna. unfortunately, it doesn't go according to plan, because they're both heavy sleepers. don't worry, though! you have your ways.
── contains .✦ threesome, p in v, somnophilia, double penetration, oral (m!recieving), soft sex, sleepy sex, needy!reader, afab!reader, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, size kink, strength kink, aftercare, little bit of fluff, perhaps a little self indulgent, mdni!
── word count .✦ 4k!
Night settles thick and velvety around the room, the kind of quiet that only exists when everyone else has surrendered to sleep.
The blankets are heavy and warm, and you’re tucked right where you love to be - wedged between two oversized, overpowered men who somehow make the bed feel too small and impossibly safe at the same time.
Toji sleeps behind you like a furnace, one heavy arm draped around your waist, palm warm against your stomach. His chest rises and falls with long, deep breaths, each exhale brushing along the back of your neck.
He smells familiar - warm skin, faint shampoo, something rough and comforting, like worn leather and quiet nights. His leg is thrown lazily over yours, anchoring you in place like he subconsciously refuses to let you drift away even in sleep.
Ryomen lies facing you, one hand lightly resting at the curve of your hip, thumb stone-still - but there. His breathing is quieter, restrained even in slumber, like he refuses to look vulnerable to unconsciousness. His face looks softer like this, lines of arrogance smoothed out by sleep. Both eyes closed, lips relaxed instead of curled in a smirk.
You shift minutely, pressing back against Toji's heat, shifting against Ryomen's solid stillness. The friction is a whisper, a tease. It ignites something low and desperate inside you.
Your skin feels too tight, too sensitive under the blankets. The stillness grates; you need more. Need them awake, need them touching you properly. Need to be filled until this ache dissolves into something liquid and consuming.
Carefully, slowly, you slide Toji's arm off your waist, lifting his heavy thigh from yours. He grunts softly, shifting deeper into the pillows but doesn't wake. You twist silently onto your back, then push up onto your knees. The mattress dips.
Before Toji can fully register the loss of your warmth, you straddle his hips, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his waist. His boxers are thin cotton; you feel the thick ridge of his erection instantly beneath you, hot and hard even through the fabric.
A needy little whimper escapes your lips as you settle your weight down fully, grinding your soaked, lacey panties against his thick bulge. The friction makes you mewl pathetically, and your legs - which barely bracket his hips - help you to weakly bounce and grind on his chub. You’re horny and impatient, cheeks flushed pink with desperation.
You lean forward, pressing your palms flat against Toji’s bare chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath warm skin. He smells like sweat and sleep, and you can feel his heartbeat thumping steadily under your fingertips. You wiggle against him again, harder this time, the dampness between your legs soaking through your panties and onto his boxers.
You glance to the side at Ryomen’s sleeping form. He hasn’t moved an inch, still curled on his side with one hand resting near the pillow where your head was. His face is relaxed, peaceful even, but you know the moment he wakes, that arrogance will snap back into place.
For now, though, he’s oblivious.
You bite your lip, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. *Why won’t they wake up?* You wiggle again, grinding down harder on Toji’s thickening length. His cock twitches beneath you, responding to the heat and pressure even in sleep, but he doesn’t stir beyond a low rumble in his chest.
Pouting, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and shimmy them down your thighs, kicking them off somewhere into the dark room. The cool air hits your wet slit, making you gasp softly. Then, shifting your hips higher on Toji’s stomach, you reach behind you.
Your fingers tremble as you fumble beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, finding his cock hot and heavy, already half-hard and leaking at the tip. You wrap your fingers around him, and guide him towards your aching entrance.
Your other hand spreads your pussy lips wide, slickness coating your fingers as you press the blunt head of him against your tiny, fluttering hole.
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, you sink down onto him. Your tight walls stretch around Toji’s thick cockhead, a choked whimper escaping your lips as the delicious burn steals your breath. Your thighs quiver with the effort, barely managing shallow, shuddering bounces that are more desperate wiggles than proper movement. Each tiny descent pulls another pathetic sound from your throat - high-pitched whines and breathy gasps - as you struggle to take more of him, your slick easing the way but your body protesting the overwhelming girth.
Tears of frustration blur your vision; it feels so good yet nowhere near enough, leaving you trembling and achingly empty higher up.
Toji stirs beneath you. A low, rumbling groan vibrates deep in his chest, resonating against your palms still pressed flat on his pecs. His hips give an instinctive, sleepy thrust upwards, burying himself a fraction deeper inside your clenching heat and forcing a sharp, needy cry from you.
His heavy eyelids flutter open, bleary eyes focusing slowly on your flushed, tear-streaked face hovering above him. Confusion flickers across his features for a split second before settling into a lazy, predatory awareness.
A slow, rough smirk spreads across his lips as he feels your trembling thighs struggling to ride him, your soaking wetness coating him.
“Couldn't wait, huh?” He grunts, his voice thick with sleep and amusement, one calloused hand sliding up to grip your hip firmly.
Pure, dizzying relief floods you at the sound of Toji’s gravelly voice.
A choked sob escapes your lips, mixing with the desperate whimpers torn from your throat on each tiny, shallow bounce. Your movements are frantic but weak - barely lifting yourself an inch before gravity pulls you back down onto his girthy cock, your thighs trembling violently with the effort. Every desperate grind against the thick root of him sends sparks through your oversensitive clit, yet it’s maddeningly insufficient, leaving you clenching and weeping around his fat dick.
Tears finally spill over, hot tracks down your cheeks as you whine, “N-Need you… please…”
Toji chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates deliciously through your joined bodies. His grip tightens on your hip, fingers digging possessively into soft flesh.
“Look at you.” He coos, voice thick with sleep and arousal, his gaze tracking the tremors running through your thighs. “Workin' yourself into a state all alone.”
He shifts subtly beneath you, lifting his hips just enough to meet your frantic little bounces, driving himself deeper into your clenching heat with a deliberate slowness that borders on cruel. The stretch burns beautifully, stealing your breath.
“My cock's too much for you, ain't it?” He taunts softly, watching the tears spill faster down your cheeks. “Little thing like you swallows it up whole, still whinin' for more. Aren’t you, pretty?”
Your answering whine is pure desperation, high-pitched and ragged, muffled as you bury your face against his sweat-dampened chest. “Too much... s'too big.” You sob, the words hiccuping out between shallow breaths, your hips stuttering helplessly against him, unable to push deeper or pull away, pinned by his strength and your own aching need.
“Shh.” He soothes, though the smirk lingers.
One rough thumb brushes away a tear track, the gesture surprisingly tender against the raw possessiveness in his eyes. “You're doin' so good, pretty baby. Takin' it like you were made for it.”
His praise coils hot and thick in your belly, mingling with the overwhelming stretch.
“So fuckin' cute.” He breathes, dragging a calloused palm up your spine to cradle the back of your neck, forcing your tear-streaked face up to meet his gaze. "All weepy and needy for my cock." He punctuates the words with another deliberate upward thrust, grinding his pubic bone against your swollen clit.
The rhythmic creak of the bedframe and Toji's low grunts finally slice through the heavy silence surrounding Ryomen. His eyes snap open, instantly sharp and alert despite the remnants of sleep clinging to his posture.
He takes in the scene beside him – you straddling Toji, trembling and slick, Toji's broad hands gripping your hips possessively – with undisguised disgust.
“Ugh.” He rasps, voice thick with sleep but dripping with contempt. “Seriously? Fucking freaks. Middle of the goddamn night.” He rolls onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face, the disdain clear even in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
Toji's chuckle is dark and knowing, his gaze flicking pointedly down Ryomen's body.
“Look who's talkin'. Got a decent tent pitchin' there yourself, princess.” He rumbles sarcastically, nodding towards the undeniable bulge straining against Ryomen's silk sleep pants. Your gaze follows, eyes widening as you take in the thick outline pressing against the thin fabric.
A tiny, involuntary whimper escapes you, followed instantly by a flood of saliva you just barely manage to swallow. The sheer visual, Ryomen's hardness juxtaposed with his sneer, sends a fresh wave of dizzying want crashing through you.
Toji notices your reaction instantly – the slack-jawed hunger, the glistening drool you couldn't quite contain. His grip tightens on your hip.
“That got you excited, doll?” He teases, voice dropping into that dangerously gentle rumble that always makes your knees weak. “Seein' him all stiff like that? You wanna taste him?”
Your eyes dart frantically between Ryomen's sneering face and the thick promise tenting his pants. A drowsy, desperate nod, followed by an “Uh-huh.” is all you can manage before you're clumsily lifting yourself off Toji’s cock with a wet, obscene pop.
You scramble onto all fours on the mattress, hips instinctively lifting high, presenting your dripping, swollen pussy towards Toji while your hungry gaze locks onto Ryomen's lap.
A pleading, high-pitched whine tears from your throat, raw and shameless. “Ryo… please…”
Ryomen watches you crawl towards him, your movements clumsy with need, your small hands trembling as they land on his thigh. The disgust melts away, replaced by a familiar, exasperated affection that softens the sharp lines of his face.
“Pathetic.” he sighs, the insult lacking its usual bite, sounding almost fond. He shifts onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows as his hips lift slightly, granting you access. “Go on then, you greedy little slut. Do what you need to do.”
His silk pants are pushed down just enough to free his flushed cock – thick, heavy, already leaking copious strings of translucent precum that glisten in the dim light. It springs up hot and hard, the swollen head nearly smacking against your cheekbone as he releases it.
The sudden proximity, the sheer heat radiating from him combined with the salty-sweet scent hitting your nostrils, makes you gasp wetly.
Your reaction – the wide-eyed awe, the choked moan, the way your tongue unconsciously darts out to wet your lips – sends a visible shudder through him. His hips jerk involuntarily, a thick rope of precum spurting onto your chin before you've even touched him.
“Fuck.” He groans, the sound low and strained, his arrogant facade crumbling completely. “Look at you... look how much you want it.”
Your shaky fingers wrap around his base, feeling the thick vein pulsing beneath your touch as you lean in, tongue instinctively darting out to catch the sticky precum still glistening on his tip. The sharp, musky taste blooms across your tongue - salty, intimate, utterly consuming.
A ragged moan tears from your throat as you sink forward, hollowing your cheeks to take the swollen head past your lips. Above you, Ryomen’s breath hitches sharply, his hips lifting off the mattress to press deeper into your mouth.
“That’s it.” He rasps, his voice stripped of contempt, now thick with drowsy reverence. One large hand settles possessively on the crown of your head, fingers tangling in your hair - not forcing, just holding - as his thumb strokes your temple. "Take it slow, sweetheart. Just like that..." His praise coils warm and liquid in your belly, making you whimper around his girth.
Behind you, Toji’s calloused hands slide up your trembling thighs, spreading them wider as he drags the slick, swollen head of his cock through your dripping folds.
The sensation - hot, blunt, teasing - makes you jerk and moan around Ryomen’s length, saliva leaking down your chin. Toji chuckles darkly, his grip tightening as he presses forward in one smooth, lazy thrust, filling your aching pussy to the hilt.
You arch violently, gagging around Ryomen as the overwhelming stretch ripples through you, tears springing fresh at the corners of your eyes.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Toji groans, his voice gravelly with sleep and pleasure, hips rolling in shallow, possessive circles that grind his pubic bone against your clit. “Squeezin’ me like you’d die without it…”
Ryomen watches you struggle - your teary eyes, the frantic bob of your throat as you suck him deeper, the way your hips rock back weakly onto Toji’s thick cock - and a soft, almost disbelieving sigh escapes him.
“God, you’re a mess.” He groans, but his thumb brushes away a tear with startling tenderness. His other hand slides down to cradle your jaw, guiding you gently as you take him inch by inch, your nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base.
Every choked slurp, every flutter of your lips, pulls another thick strand of precum from him, coating your tongue.
“So good... taking us both like this—hnn.” The raw ache in his voice betrays him, his hips stuttering upward as you hollow your cheeks, drawing a guttural groan from his chest.
The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure: Ryomen’s fractured sighs, Toji’s low, rhythmic grunts, the slick slap of skin against skin - all underscored by your own muffled whimpers.
Toji’s thrusts deepen, each powerful surge driving Ryomen deeper down your throat until your eyes roll back, overwhelmed and trembling between them. Ryomen’s hand tightens in your hair, not pulling, just holding you steady as his cockhead nudges the back of your throat.
“Easy.” He breathes, watching tears stream freely down your cheeks. “Just breathe... we’ve got you.”
His thumb strokes your cheekbone, the gesture unbearably gentle as Toji’s palm splays across your lower back, pinning you in place between their heat, their strength, their ravenous, lazy claim.
Ryomen’s head tips back against the pillows, the tendons in his throat straining as he surrenders to the sensation. Moonlight catches the sweat-slicked lines of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes against his cheekbones - god, he looks devastatingly beautiful like this, arrogance unraveled into pure, raw need.
A soft whimper escapes you as you pull off his cock with a wet gasp, lips swollen and glistening. You nuzzle against the flushed head instead, kitten-licking the slit teasingly, lapping up the salt-bitter precum you know drives him wild.
His hips jerk sharply, a choked groan tearing free. “Fuck—yes, just like that.” He rasps, his voice cracking as his fingers tense in your hair, guiding you back to torture him slowly, deliberately.
Behind you, Toji shifts his grip, angling your hips higher as he rolls deep into you. It’s a subtle, possessive adjustment - a slow grind that seats the blunt crown of him impossibly deep, kissing your cervix in one smooth, devastating stroke.
You cry out against Ryomen’s thigh, the sound strangled and high-pitched. The sudden stretch wrings a shuddering sob from you, your cunt clamping down hard around Toji’s thickness.
He groans, low and satisfied, hips circling to savor the vice-tight grip of you. “Feel that, doll?” He murmurs, breath hot against your spine. “Taking me right where you need it…”
Each shallow rock grinds that swollen tip against your deepest, most tender spot, leaving you boneless and shaking, tears soaking Ryomen’s skin as you suckle his cockhead desperately.
Ryomen watches you fall apart - your trembling surrender, the way your thighs quake as Toji owns your pussy - and something shifts in his eyes.
The last shred of detachment melts away.
“Look at her.” He coos, voice thick with awe, thumb brushing your tear-slicked chin. “So soft... so fucking perfect.”
His hips lift, pressing insistently against your lips until you take him deeper again, your mouth working him with clumsy, worshipful hunger. Above the ragged sounds of your sucking, Ryomen’s breath catches, his gaze locking with Toji’s over your head.
“Enough.” Ryomen rasps suddenly, his voice low but commanding.
He gently pulls his cock from your lips with a soft, wet pop, ignoring your desperate whimper. Simultaneously, Toji stills his delicious thrusts, sliding out of your clenching heat with agonizing slowness, leaving you shuddering and achingly empty.
Before you can protest, Ryomen’s strong arms hook under your knees and around your waist. Effortlessly, he lifts you - your back instantly pressed flush against the solid warmth of his chest - and cradles you suspended against him, your legs splayed wide open.
The thick, insistent heat of his erection presses firmly against the cleft of your ass, a silent, urgent promise. In front of you, Toji shifts forward on his knees between your trembling thighs, his calloused hands spreading you wider as he aligns himself with your dripping, twitching entrance.
Toji’s gaze locks onto yours, dark and predatory, as he pushes forward in one slow, relentless stroke, filling your needy pussy to the hilt again.
The stretch burns beautifully, stealing your breath in a ragged gasp, but it’s Ryomen’s hand that tilts your head back against his shoulder.
His lips brush your ear, voice rough and hypnotic. “Relax, sweetheart.” He murmurs, fingers splayed possessively across your stomach. Then, with aching tenderness, he presses the blunt, slick head of his cock against your tight, untouched rim.
You stiffen instinctively. “Ryo—mh!” A sharp, startled inhale, but Ryomen’s other hand strokes soothingly down your thigh.
“Shh, I’ve got you.” He breathes, the words vibrating against your skin as he pushes forward, just an inch, the stretch foreign and exquisite, forcing a trembling whine from your throat.
The dual invasion overwhelms: Toji’s thick cock pistoning deep into your cunt, Ryomen’s relentless pressure stretching your ass, and your body arches violently between them.
A ragged moan tears free as Ryomen sinks deeper, the searing fullness stealing coherent thought. Your head falls back fully against his shoulder, tears spilling anew as his arm bands tighter around your waist, anchoring you.
Between the slick sounds of Toji’s thrusts and your own choked cries, Ryomen groans, low and reverent, his teeth grazing your neck.
“So tight—fuck— taking us so well…” His hips roll in shallow, deliberate circles, seating himself completely, the intimate burn blooming into a deep, throbbing ache that merges with the pounding pleasure radiating from your clit with every grind of Toji’s pelvis.
Toji’s calloused hands slide up your trembling thighs, thumbs digging possessively into the crease of your hips as he drives deep. His chest brushes against your swollen, sensitive nipples with each powerful thrust - a fleeting friction that draws sharp, whimpering gasps from you.
Leaning forward, he nuzzles the sweat-dampened skin beneath your ear, teeth grazing the pulse point.
“Listen to her.” He growls, voice thick and amused, aimed at Ryomen even as his gaze locks onto your tear-streaked face. "Whimpers like a fuckin’ kitten." His tongue soothes the bite mark he’s left, then dips lower to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You shudder wildly, pinned between Ryomen’s relentless fullness and Toji’s claiming mouth.
“Her ass is still pliant.” Ryomen points out, breath hot against your temple, his fingers tracing the rim where he’s buried deep.
His voice holds a drowsy awe that contrasts sharply with his earlier disdain. “Soft ‘n’ open…” He punctuates each word with a slow, grinding roll of his hips that makes you sob.
Toji chuckles, low and dark, his lips leaving your skin to glance up at Ryomen. “Told you she was made for it.”
His large hand slides up your stomach, fingers skating over your ribs before palming your breast roughly. He squeezes, thumb flicking your pebbled nipple, and you jerk against Ryomen’s chest.
“Feel how soft these tits are?” Toji rasps, his gaze locked on Ryomen’s over your shoulder. “Like fuckin’ silk... perfect for squeezin’ while she takes cock.”
The vulgar tenderness - the raw admiration in Toji’s gravelly voice - collides with Ryomen’s answering groan of agreement. “God, yes. So soft…” Ryomen breathes, his hand joining Toji’s while you wrap your legs around Toji’s waist to steady yourself, both men fondling your breasts with possessive reverence as they fill you completely.
The overwhelming stretch, the possessive hands on your skin, and the shockingly sweet profanity spilling from their lips - "So soft…”, “Made for us.” - shatters your control.
A choked scream rips from your throat as your orgasm consumes you, violent and sudden. Your cunt clamps down hard around Toji’s thrusting cock while your ass pulses around Ryomen’s thickness. Liquid heat gushes from you, soaking Toji’s abs in a weak, trembling squirt that leaves you gasping and shaking.
“That’s it.” Ryomen rasps against your ear, his hips stuttering as he feels your convulsions. “Let go... shit, feel her…”
Toji grunts, driving deeper, his rhythm faltering as your fluttering cunt milks his fat cock. “Such a good girl.” He manages, fingers tightening on your breast. “Takin’ us ‘n’ ruinin’ yourself…”
Ryomen comes first - a sharp, ragged groan torn from his chest as he buries himself to the hilt in your ass. His release is scalding-hot and thick, pulsing deep inside you, flooding that tight ring with sticky heat. You whimper weakly, still twitching from your own climax, as the sensation spreads - intimate, claiming.
Toji follows seconds later, hips pistoning wildly as he slams home. He whines your name, low and rough, his cock swelling impossibly thicker before erupting deep in your womb. You feel the hot, heavy pulses flooding you, mixing with the sensation of Ryomen’s cum, filling you until you’re impossibly stretched and achingly full.
Both men groan in unison, their bodies shuddering against yours as they pump you full, their grips bruisingly tight.
Slowly, carefully, Ryomen slides out of your ass with a slick, obscene sound that makes you flinch. Toji pulls free next, his softening cock dragging against your oversensitive walls, leaving you trembling and gaping, thighs slick with a mess of cum and squirt.
Ryomen hooks his arms under your knees and waist, lifting you effortlessly against his chest as Toji shifts off the bed. Your head lolls weakly against Ryomen’s shoulder, your entire body feeling boneless and heavy.
He carries you the few steps to the unmussed side of the bed, lowering you gently onto the cool sheets. You curl instinctively into the pillows, your small frame dwarfed by the mattress, trembling legs tucked close. The contrast is stark - your fragility against their sheer size, the rumpled sheets still radiating heat where they’d pinned you moments ago. Ryomen’s gaze softens as he brushes damp hair from your forehead.
“So small.” He muses, almost to himself.
Toji sinks onto the edge of the bed beside you, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he turns you onto your stomach. “Gonna be sore tomorrow, doll.” He rumbles, thumbs already kneading the tense muscles of your lower back with firm, practiced pressure.
You sigh shakily into the pillow, the ache in your spine easing under his touch. His palms move lower, working the trembling knots in your thighs, coaxing the tremors into submission. Each stroke is deliberate, grounding - a stark contrast to the bruising possession minutes before.
Meanwhile, Ryomen pads silently to the adjoining bathroom. You hear the soft rush of water, then his return, a warm, damp towel in hand. He starts with you, wiping away the sticky mess between your thighs with unhurried tenderness, the heat soothing your raw skin.
He cleans Toji next, the rough swipe of the towel over sweat-slicked abs drawing a low grunt of approval. Finally, Ryomen tends to himself, the towel moving in efficient strokes before he tosses it aside.
Without a word, he slides into bed behind you, his chest molding to your back, one arm draping heavily over your waist. Toji stretches out on your other side, his hand settling possessively on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles. The warmth of them surrounds you completely - Ryomen’s steady heartbeat against your spine, Toji’s breath ghosting over your shoulder.
Exhaustion crashes over you, thick and sweet, and your eyes drift shut as Ryomen presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.
“Rest.” He whispers, the command softened by fatigue. You sink deeper into the pillows, cocooned between them, already drifting.
a/n: i need them both so bad bruh
huge thankyou to @sebnchosongetosowlett for helping me with the plot when i was in hysteria yesterday because of my writers block!!!
hello world im opening my requests for a week!! yaaaayy!!
no i wont complete them very fast because ill being going on another break for a month or two.. its just a time where i cant promise to make any posts!!
however, after that im completely free to write away into the summer!!! so get me some jjk x readers to look forward to ☺️
── synopsis .✦ Your cult-leading lover, Suguru Geto, has some unconventional ways of showing his love. It just so happens that one of those methods consists of reminding both you and his cult of his ownership over you! Exhibiting you is just a bonus.
── contains .✦ female!reader, cult leader!geto, pwp, p in v, standing sex, multiple orgasms, possessive!suguru, light choking, breath play, breeding kink, praise kink, exhibitionism, creampies, depictions/mentions of murder, reader is a bit shy, suguru is obsessed with reader, mdni!
── word count .✦ 2.3k!
The air in the grand hall of Suguru Geto’s cult compound hung thick with incense and murmured chants, the low hum of devotion vibrating through the stone floors.
Rows upon rows of followers knelt in perfect submission, their foreheads pressed to the ground, eyes sealed shut by the weight of their master’s command. No one dared lift their gaze; to do so invited the wrath of the curses that slithered unseen in the shadows, hungry for disobedience.
At the center of it all, elevated on a dais that felt like a throne of opulence and power, Suguru had his prize – you – bent slightly forward, your body on full display for him alone, even if the cult’s ears caught every gasp and slap of skin.
You’d lost track of how long he’d been buried inside you, his thick cock stretching your pussy with relentless, deep thrusts that made your knees buckle.
Sweat slicked your skin, your robe hiked up around your waist, breasts heaving free and exposed to the cool air. The shame burned hot in your cheeks – knowing all these people were right there, listening, even if they couldn’t see.
Your legs quivered beneath you, barely holding you up as Suguru’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, his hand splayed possessively on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to steady you. His other hand curled lightly around your throat from behind, not squeezing hard, just a gentle pressure that kept your head tilted back against his shoulder, forcing you to arch into him.
It was intimate, controlling, making every plunge of his hips feel like he owned every inch of you.
“Look at you, my sweet girl.” Suguru murmured against your ear, his voice a low, velvety rumble that carried just far enough for the front rows of his followers to hear, though their faces remained buried in submission. “Taking me so perfectly, even with all these eyes that aren’t worthy to witness your beauty.”
His words sent a fresh wave of heat flooding your core, your walls clenching around the veined length of him as he ground deeper, the bulbous head of his cock nudging against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as awareness prickled at the edges of your pleasure-fogged mind.
They couldn’t see – not really, with their heads bowed in reverence – but the knowledge that dozens of bodies surrounded you, listening to every gasp and slap of skin, made your stomach twist with shy vulnerability.
“S– Suguru…!” You stammered, voice slurred from the intensity, words fracturing as another thrust jolted through you. “What if they hear—ah!”
A moan cut you off, high and needy, your hands clutching at his forearm around your throat for support.
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring, his breath ghosting over your neck as he nipped at your earlobe. “Let them hear. Let them know how good I make you feel.”
“Mmh…” You whined weakly in protest, although both of you knew you were only bluffing.
Hand slipping lower on your hip, his thumb circled your swollen clit in lazy strokes that had you bucking back against him. “You’re shaking already, sweetheart… legs all weak because of me, hm?”
The light chokehold on your throat tightened just a fraction, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse race under his palm, your breaths coming in short, needy pants. It held you upright when your body wanted to collapse, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as another wave of ecstasy built low in your belly.
Suguru’s free hand slid up from your puffy nub to splay across your lower belly, pressing down just enough to feel the obscene bulge his cock created with each deep plunge.
“Feel that, pretty? That’s me, claiming every inch of you. You’re mine, and they’ll never so much as dream of touching what’s sacred.”
The pressure made stars burst behind your eyelids, amplifying the way he filled you, the head of his cock nudging insistently against your cervix, sending sparks of pleasure-pain radiating through your core.
Suguru’s focus remained solely on you, rolling his hips in a slow, grinding circle, stirring his thick girth inside your fluttering walls. It coaxed fresh gushes of your essence to ease his movements.
Your pussy was a mess: swollen and sensitive from the prolonged fucking, lips puffy and parted around his invading shaft, clinging to him as if afraid to let go.
“Such a tight little cunt.” He praised, his tone laced with suave admiration, loud enough to ensure his words carried. “Made for me alone. These fools worship from afar, but only I get to—hah, so wet—worship you like this.”
Your breath hitched, legs wobbling dangerously as the coil in your belly tightened once more.
“I– I can’t... it’s too much, nhh!” You whispered, stuttering through the words, your voice barely audible over the slick rhythm of his thrusts.
But even as you said it, your hips pushed back instinctively, chasing the friction, betraying your shy protests.
“You can, and you will.” Suguru cooed, his hand on your throat loosening just a fraction to let you gasp for air, thumb stroking your pulse point soothingly.
He punctuated his sentence with a particularly deep thrust, his cock bottoming out until you felt the bulge of him pressing against your lower abdomen from the inside, a visible swell under your skin that made you gasp. Your hand flew to your stomach instinctively, fingers splaying over the obscene outline of his dick reshaping you.
Your first orgasm crashed over you without mercy, a tidal wave that seized your muscles and dragged a keening cry from your lips. Your pussy convulsed around his cock, walls rippling in tight, milking squeezes that tried to pull him deeper, your juices gushing out to soak his thighs.
“F-Fuck! Suguru—oh god, I’m c-cumming!” The words dissolved into a slur of nonsense, your vision blurring as pleasure ripped through you, legs giving out entirely.
Only his hold kept you from crumbling – hand firm on your hip, the other guiding your head back so you could feel his smirk against your skin.
“Mmm, that’s my girl.” Suguru purred, his free hand roaming up from your hip to cup one of your breasts, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple.
He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, fucking you through the aftershocks with shallow, grinding thrusts that prolonged the ecstasy until you were sobbing softly, oversensitive and trembling.
The cult remained deathly still, their breaths held in reverence, but you could feel the weight of their attention, the forbidden thrill of it all making your clit throb anew. The exposure made you squirm, a fresh blush creeping down your neck – your tits bouncing with every thrust, fully bared to the room, even if eyes were forbidden.
“These are perfect too. So soft, so full. Bet they’d look even better—nghh,—swollen with my kid.” The breeding kink laced into his words sent a jolt straight to your core, your pussy fluttering in response, squeezing him tighter.
You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway.
“Suguuu…! Not here... they’re l– listening…” Your voice was a pathetic slur, words tripping over themselves as pleasure coiled tighter.
The light pressure on your throat amplified everything, making your head swim, breaths shallow and hot. His fingers, long and elegant, spanned the column of your neck easily, a reminder of his strength, his control.
A sudden gasp from the crowd shattered the illusion of perfect obedience.
One of the followers – a younger man near the edge of the front row – had dared to lift his head, eyes wide with forbidden curiosity, stealing a glimpse of your exposed form, the way Suguru’s cock disappeared into your dripping folds.
The air thickened instantly, a malevolent energy crackling as Suguru’s curse stirred to life without a word from him.
A grotesque, shadowy tendril erupted from the floor, coiling around the intruder’s neck like a serpent before yanking him backward with brutal force. A choked scream cut short into a wet gurgle, the body convulsing once before going limp, dragged into the darkness beyond the torchlight.
You froze, a sharp yelp escaping your throat as terror spiked through the haze of lust. Your pussy clenched hard around Suguru’s cock in reflexive fear, eyes darting wildly toward the disturbance, heart pounding against your ribs.
“Wh– What was—oh god, Suguru, he—”
Suguru’s response was immediate, soothing, his thrusts slowing to a gentle rock that kept his cock nestled deep inside your fluttering pussy.
“Shh, shh, my love,” he cooed, lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, his grip on your hip turning tender, thumb stroking soothing circles.
“It’s nothing. Just a little lesson for the unworthy. Focus on me, yeah?” His voice was a warm murmur, wrapping around your panic like silk, drawing your attention back to the heat of him buried in your core.
The light chokehold eased, his fingers tracing your jaw instead, tilting your face so you could meet his dark, reassuring gaze over your shoulder.
Your fear ebbed as he resumed his rhythm, slower now, but no less deep, each slide of his thick shaft dragging against your oversensitive walls and reigniting the fire.
“You’re safe with me.” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe. “No one touches what’s mine. Now, be my good girl and let me take care of you.”
His hand slipped from your jaw back to your throat when your knees buckled once more and threatened to give out, while the one on your hip pulled you flush against him, his chest to your back like a shield.
You melted into him, the spook fading under the onslaught of sensation.
“Okay... f– fuck, Suguru, don’t stop… nha!" The words slurred out again, moans bubbling up as he picked up speed, his cock plunging in and out with lewd, slick sounds that echoed off the walls.
Your pussy, still clenching from your first climax, adjusted to him greedily, inner muscles hugging every inch of his veined length, the way his girth stretched you to the brink of pain and pleasure.
Suguru’s praises flowed like honey, each one designed to elevate you, to remind everyone listening of your exalted status.
“So sensitive ’nd perfect… your pussy’s weeping for more, isn’t it? Gripping me like—shit!—a vice, milking my cock as if it needs my cum to survive.”
His need to breed you simmered beneath the words, voice dropping to a husky growl. “And it does. No one else gets this honor. No one but me gets to see you– mmf– bloom with my child.”
The idea sent a fresh gush of wetness flooding around him, your walls fluttering wildly. You were close again, so close, the pressure building unbearably as his cock stretched you, the veins pulsing against your sensitive nerves.
“Haah, ’m close!” You whined, eyes rolling into the back of your skull.
"Cum for me, then," He commanded smugly, his hand slipping from your throat to pinch and roll your nipple, the dual sensations tipping you over.
“It’s g-gonna... ah! I’m—f-fuck, again!" You could barely form the words, your voice a stuttered mess, cut off by the high-pitched keen as your climax tore through you.
This one was deeper, more intense, your pussy spasming wildly around him, gushing fresh slick that trickled down your legs. The walls of your cunt milked him desperately, fluttering and contracting in rhythmic pulls that had him cursing under his breath.
Your body arched in his hold, the light chokehold keeping you grounded as ecstasy blurred your vision, toes curling so hard they ached.
As your vision cleared, hazy and blissed-out, you felt the fullness of him still inside, his cock twitching with restraint. Your shyness crept back in waves, cheeks burning at the thought of your exposure, but Suguru’s worshipful touch kept it at bay.
He turned your head gently, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, tongue delving to taste your moans, his hand returning to your hip to guide you back into motion.
“One more for me?” He asked against your mouth, though it was less a question and more a promise, his smooth demeanor unbroken even as sweat beaded on his brow.
You nodded weakly, words failing you entirely now, reduced to whimpers as he resumed his pace: faster this time, chasing his own peak while building yours anew. The swell in your belly reformed with each plunge, a visible reminder of his dominance, and he pressed down on it again, murmuring praises.
“Y’feel so good, pretty… ’m so deep it might take.” He purred.
You stuttered nonsense – “M– More, please, Suguru—c-can’t think—” – cut off by gasps as he angled to grind against your clit, the friction igniting fresh fire.
“You don’t need to think, sweetheart,” he soothed, nipping at your shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay? I’ll fill you up nicely.”
His boasts rang out clearer, a deliberate taunt to the bowed masses, emphasizing your exclusivity.
You nodded shakily, "Y-Yeah... fuck me..." And he did, resuming with care, building you up slowly.
The third orgasm crept up insidious, your sensitivity making every drag of his cock electric.
Praises followed: “Such a g-good girl, taking it after that. Gonna– oh, fuck– gonna pump you full, watch your belly swell with my seed.”
When you came again, it was with a wail, body convulsing, pussy flooding him.
He followed seconds later, cum erupting in thick spurts, filling you until it leaked out, warm and sticky. "Take every drop– shit, pretty girl. You’re mine, all mine."
He held you after, whispering affections, the cult forgotten in your shared bliss.
And by the time he carried you away, you couldn’t bring yourself to care for the screams of terror that echoed through the hall behind you. After all, no one but Suguru was able to see and hear you, and live to tell the tale.
a/n: okay im on fire people. next up is plug choso drabble.
── synopsis .✦ after being seperated from your herd during a violent storm, you find yourself on the outskirts of hunter!sukuna's territory. getting caught in one of his bear traps results in his hesitant rescue, promptly followed by a reluctant stay at his cabin in the middle of the forest. however, with heat season around the corner, you can't help but thirst over the pink-haired, hunk of a man!
── contains .✦ female reader, hunter!sukuna, deer hybrid!reader, virgin!reader, graphic descriptions of injury, awkwardness, eventual smut, heat cycles, hurt/comfort, hunter x prey, p in v, praise kink, antler pulling (reader is a caribou), breeding kink, fingering, loss of virginity, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, creampies, mating press, missionary, doggystyle, teasing, mdni!
── word count .✦ 5.9k!
The forest whispered secrets through the canopy of ancient pines, their needles rustling like distant murmurs in the cool autumn breeze.
You had been wandering for days, maybe weeks – time blurred in the endless green haze. Your herd, the tight-knit group of caribou hybrids you’d grown up with, had scattered during a sudden storm.
Panic had driven them one way while fear rooted you in place, and now you were alone. Your doe ears twitched at every snap of a twig, your tail flicking nervously against your back.
The world felt too vast, too silent without the familiar scents and sounds of your kin.
Your bare feet padded softly over the mossy ground, the chill seeping into your skin despite the layers of scavenged clothes: a threadbare sweater and pants that hung loose on your slender frame.
Hunger gnawed at your stomach, but worse was the isolation, a hollow ache that made your steps falter. You pushed on, ears perking at the faint trickle of a stream ahead. Water. Relief.
But as you stepped forward, agony exploded in your right leg.
Metal jaws clamped down with brutal force, yanking you off balance. You crumpled to the forest floor with a sharp cry, the bear trap’s teeth biting deep into your calf. Pain radiated like fire, hot and unrelenting, as blood welled up, soaking your pant leg.
Your tail thrashed in panic, ears flattening against your skull. You clawed at the dirt, trying to pull free, but the trap held fast, chains rattling against a buried stake.
Tears blurred your vision, sobs escaping in ragged bursts: trapped; alone. The forest seemed to close in, indifferent to your plight.
Hours passed – or was it minutes? The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that danced mockingly around you.
Your leg throbbed, the bleeding slowing to a sticky ooze, but weakness crept in, sapping your strength. You tugged weakly at the trap again, whimpering as fresh pain lanced through you.
That’s when you heard it: heavy footsteps, deliberate and unhurried, crunching through the underbrush.
He emerged from the trees like a shadow given form: Ryomen Sukuna, though you didn’t know his name yet.
Broad-shouldered and towering, his frame filled the space between the trunks. His pink hair caught the fading light, spiked and wild, and his face bore tattoos that twisted across his skin.
Crimson eyes scanned the area with predatory sharpness. He wore simple clothes: a black shirt stretched taut over his muscled chest, pants tucked into boots caked with mud.
A hunter, you realized with a jolt, the rifle slung over his shoulder confirming it.
His gaze locked onto you, and for a moment, the world stilled. Those eyes narrowed, assessing. You froze, ears pinning back, tail curling tight against your body.
He was enormous, intimidating, his presence radiating a quiet menace that made your heart hammer. He stepped closer, boots thudding softly, and you shrank back, the trap’s chain jerking your leg painfully.
“What the hell…” He grumbled, voice low and gravelly, more to himself than you.
Crouching a safe distance away, he placed his elbows on his knees, studying the trap. His eyes flicked to your face, then to your ears and tail, noting the hybrid traits without surprise. The forest was full of strays like you.
You whimpered, trying to scoot away, but the pain shot up your leg, forcing a gasp from your lips. Blood trickled anew, staining the leaves beneath you.
“P-Please,” you whispered, voice trembling, “help…?”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out slowly, gloved hands – rough from years of handling traps and rifles – testing the mechanism.
The trap was one of his, set for bears that wandered too close to his territory. He hadn’t expected this.
With a grunt, he pried the jaws open, the metal groaning in protest. You yanked your leg free the instant it gave, scrambling back on hands and knees, ignoring the fire in your muscles.
Freedom hit like a rush, but it was short-lived.
Your injured leg buckled immediately, sending you sprawling. Blood smeared across the dirt as you tried to stand, leaning on a tree for support.
Panic surged: you had to run. He was too big, too dangerous. Hunters like him didn’t take kindly to intruders, hybrid or not. Your ears flicked wildly, catching his steady breathing behind you.
You bolted – or tried to. The first step was agony, your calf screaming as you limped forward, tail streaming behind like a flag of distress.
You made it ten paces, maybe fifteen, before your vision swam and your knee gave out. You collapsed against a fallen log, clutching your leg, sobs wracking your body. The forest spun, the pain too much, the blood loss making your head light.
Footsteps again, closer this time. Sukuna stood over you, arms crossed, his shadow engulfing you. He debated it then – you could see it in the furrow of his brow, the way his eyes traced your trembling form.
Leave her, a voice in his head probably said. She’s not your problem. The woods were cruel; strays didn’t last long.
But something held him – maybe the way your ears drooped in defeat, or the blood pooling beneath you. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head.
“Idiot,” he grunted, though whether to you or himself, you couldn’t tell.
Before you could protest, strong arms scooped you up, one under your knees, the other around your back.
You stiffened, ears flattening, a startled yelp escaping as he lifted you effortlessly. His body was warm, solid, the scent of pine and earth clinging to him.
“Don’t squirm.” He commanded flatly, voice devoid of warmth but not cruelty. “You’ll bleed out faster.”
You went limp in his hold, too weak to fight, your tail brushing against his arm.
The walk to his cabin was a blur of jostling motion and throbbing pain, the forest fading into twilight. His log cabin loomed ahead, sturdy and isolated, smoke curling from the chimney. He kicked the door open with his boot and carried you inside, the warmth of a fire greeting you like an embrace.
The interior was sparse: wooden walls lined with shelves of jars and tools, a stone hearth crackling with flames, a worn couch and table.
He set you down on the couch gently – surprisingly so for his size – propping your leg on a stool. You watched him warily, ears twitching, as he fetched a first-aid kit from a cabinet. His movements were efficient, no wasted energy.
He knelt before you, gloved hands peeling back your torn pant leg to expose the wound. It was ugly: deep punctures, torn flesh, but not broken bone.
You winced as he cleaned it with antiseptic, the sting making tears well up. He worked in silence, his focus intense, those four eyes flicking between the injury and your face to gauge your pain.
“Hurts.” You whimpered, more to fill the quiet than anything.
“Yeah, no shit.” He replied curtly, wrapping the bandage tight. No more words.
He stood, towering over you again, and pointed to a door. “Bedroom’s that way. Rest.”
You nodded, hobbling to the small room with its simple bed and quilt. Exhaustion claimed you instantly, the pain a dull roar as sleep pulled you under.
The first week blurred into a rhythm of silence and necessity. Your leg healed slowly, the wound scabbing over under Sukuna’s reluctant care.
He changed the bandages daily, his large hands surprisingly deft, but he never lingered. Meals appeared on the table: stew from rabbit or vegetables he’d grown in his garden, bread baked in his oven. You’d eat while he sat across, staring into the fire or sharpening a knife, the scrape of metal the only sound.
Awkwardness hung thick in the air. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, those crimson eyes giving him an unnerving depth, like he saw more than you wanted. Your ears would perk at his approach, tail flicking nervously, and you’d avert your gaze, focusing on the window where the woods pressed close.
One evening, as rain pattered against the roof, you sat by the fire, leg propped up, sketching idly on a scrap of paper he’d left out: simple lines of trees and your lost herd.
Ryomen entered from outside, shaking water from his hair, his shirt clinging damply to his broad chest. He glanced at your drawing, pausing.
“You draw.” He noted, not a question.
You nodded, ears twitching. "A little, but I’m not any good. Helps... pass time."
He grunted, hanging his coat. "That yer herd?"
“Yeah… I lost them.” You whispered, tail drooping against your back.
Silence again. He poked at the fire, sparks flying. “Woods eat loners.”
You swallowed, the words hitting too close. “I know.”
He didn’t press, just ladled stew into bowls and handed you one. You ate in quiet companionship, the rain a soothing backdrop. His presence was a wall – impenetrable, but not hostile.
Subtly, you noticed things: the way his shoulders relaxed slightly when you didn’t flinch at his nearness, how he’d leave extra blankets when nights grew cold.
By the second week, you could hobble around the cabin unaided, testing your leg on short walks to the door.
The forest called to you, but fear kept you inside: fear of the wild, and oddly, of leaving this strange sanctuary.
Sukuna watched from afar, his debates internal now. Why keep her? But he did, fetching herbs from the woods to brew tea for your lingering ache.
One afternoon, sunlight filtering through the windows, you found him outside chopping wood.
The axe rose and fell with rhythmic power, muscles flexing under his shirt, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin. You lingered in the doorway, ears perked, mesmerized by the controlled strength.
He noticed, pausing mid-swing. “Leg better?”
“Yeah,” you admitted softly, stepping out gingerly. The air was crisp, pine-scented. “Thanks... for everything.”
He wiped his brow, eyes meeting yours. “Don’t mention it.”
You smiled faintly, tail swishing. “What’s it like? Living here alone.”
A shrug. “Quiet. Suits me.” He resumed chopping, but slower, as if inviting the conversation. “You? Herd’s loud, right?”
"Comforting," you admitted, leaning against the porch rail. “But yeah, noisy. Miss it sometimes.”
He nodded once, axe embedding in the block. The silence returned, comfortable now, laced with unspoken understanding. You stayed there, watching him work, the slow thaw between you beginning to crack the ice.
Days stretched into the third week. Your leg strengthened, scabs slowly fading to pink lines.
Interactions grew in tiny increments: a shared glance over breakfast, where he’d push the salt your way without asking; evenings by the fire, where you’d read an old book from his shelf while he whittled wood into shapes: abstract, fierce things that mirrored his character.
One night, thunder rumbled outside, echoing your long-ago storm. You woke sweating, ears flat, tail tucked, the dream of separation vivid. A creak in the hall: Sukuna, checking on you as he sometimes did silently.
“Bad dream?” He said from the doorway, voice rough with sleep.
You sat up, nodding. “Something like that. Just– got reminded of the herd again is all.”
He hesitated, then entered, sitting on the edge of the bed. His weight dipped the mattress, but he kept space between you. “You’re not alone now.”
The words hung, simple but weighted. Your ears lifted slightly, fluffy tail twitching. “I know.”
He stayed until your breathing evened, his presence a quiet anchor. No more words, but the gesture spoke volumes.
As the weeks waned, the awkwardness softened into something tentative, unspoken.
You’d help with small tasks: stirring pots while he hunted, your tail brushing his leg accidentally, sending a jolt through both of you. He’d grunt apologies, but his eyes lingered longer, tracing the curve of your ears, the sway of your hips as you moved.
One crisp morning, you stood at the window, gazing at the woods. Freedom beckoned, but so did the man behind you, his footsteps approaching.
“Thinking of leaving?” he asked, voice low.
You turned, meeting his gaze. "Maybe. But... not yet."
A rare smirk tugged at his lips, tattoos shifting. "Good."
The crisp mornings gave way to warmer days, the forest awakening with a subtle shift in the air. Leaves unfurled brighter greens, and the underbrush hummed with the stirrings of life.
You felt it too – a restlessness deep in your core, a warmth that bloomed unbidden as heat season edged closer. Your body, attuned to the rhythms of nature like the rest of your kind, began to respond.
It started faintly: a flush creeping up your neck when you caught sight of Sukuna across the room, your doe ears twitching more frequently, your tail flicking in short, agitated bursts.
You shifted in your seat during meals, crossing and uncrossing your legs, the wooden chair creaking under the subtle movements.
Sukuna noticed, though he gave no sign of it at first.
As a human, his senses weren’t sharpened like yours, but the cabin was small, the air thick with shared space. Your scent – earthy and sweet, like wildflowers crushed underfoot – grew stronger each day, weaving through the smells of woodsmoke and stewed meat.
It lingered on the blankets you’d borrowed, clung to the air when you passed him in the narrow hallway. He caught it one evening while sharpening his knife by the fire, the blade gliding smoothly over the whetstone.
You sat nearby, mending a tear in your sweater, your fingers fumbling slightly as another wave of heat flushed your cheeks.
He paused, the scrape of metal halting for a beat longer than usual. His eyes flicked toward you, then away, jaw clenching subtly.
The scent hit him fuller now, stirring something primal he shoved down deep. He resumed sharpening, the rhythm faster, more deliberate, as if to drown out the distraction.
“Pass the salt.” He began gruffly when you both reached for the bowl at dinner, his hand brushing yours briefly.
The contact sent a spark through you, making your tail curl tight against your thigh. You pulled back quickly, ears flattening, a soft pink tinting your skin.
“Sorry.” You squeaked, voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire.
You shifted again, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, the movement drawing his gaze for a split second before he looked back to his plate. He grunted in response, forking into his venison without another word.
The silence stretched, heavier now, laced with an undercurrent neither of you acknowledged.
You could feel his awareness, the way his broad shoulders tensed when you stood to clear the table, your hips swaying just a fraction more than necessary as the warmth pooled low in your belly.
Nights grew warmer, the quilt too heavy some evenings. You tossed in the small bedroom, ears perked to the sounds of the cabin settling – the creak of floorboards as Sukuna moved about, the distant hoot of an owl outside.
Your scent intensified with the rising temperature, seeping under the door like an invitation you hadn’t meant to send. He lay in his own room, staring at the rafters, the air thick with it.
Human or not, it affected him: a tightening in his chest, a heat of his own that he ignored by focusing on the hunt planned for dawn.
He rolled over, groaning into the pillow, willing sleep to come.
By midweek, the signs were impossible to miss.
You found yourself lingering near him more, drawn by an instinct you couldn’t name.
While he chopped wood outside, you watched from the porch, your flush deepening as sweat traced lines down his tattooed arms, his shirt clinging to the broad expanse of his back.
Your tail swished restlessly, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache in your leg long forgotten but replaced by this new, insistent pull.
He glanced up once, axe pausing mid-air, his nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly. The scent wrapped around him, sweet and insistent, making his grip tighten on the handle.
“Need something?” He asked, voice rougher than usual, eyes locking onto yours – all four piercing, unreadable.
You shook your head, ears drooping slightly as you stepped back inside, the door clicking shut behind you. Heart pounding, you pressed a hand to your warm cheek, wondering if he could hear the rapid beat from outside.
He swung the axe harder after that, embedding it deep into the block with each strike, the physical exertion a barrier against the growing tension.
Afternoons brought small tasks that amplified the awkwardness.
You helped sort herbs he’d gathered – drying them on racks by the window – your fingers brushing his as you passed bundles.
Each time, you flushed, shifting away with a quiet apology, your tail flicking against his leg once by accident. He froze for a heartbeat, the contact electric, your scent blooming sharper in the confined space.
“Watch it.” He warned, not harshly, but stepping back to give you room. His movements grew more deliberate, putting distance between you under the guise of efficiency.
Yet he didn’t send you away. Meals remained shared, silences filled with the subtle dance of avoidance.
One evening, as twilight painted the cabin in soft oranges, you sat by the fire, knees drawn up, trying to read but finding the words blurring. The heat simmered under your skin, making you shift restlessly, the couch cushions sighing under you.
Sukuna entered from the porch, carrying a pail of water, his frame filling the doorway. Water dripped from his hands, and he set the pail down with a thud, the sound echoing your quickened breath.
He caught the scent again, stronger now, mingling with the damp earth on his clothes. It pulled at him, testing his resolve, but he crossed to the kitchen, back turned, pouring the water into a pot with unnecessary focus.
You watched his shoulders, the way they rose and fell with controlled breaths, and felt your own flush spread, ears twitching forward. It was obvious, you knew – your shifting, the way your eyes lingered – but so was his effort to remain unaffected, the subtle clench of his fists at his sides.
“Cold out there?” You questioned softly, breaking the quiet, your voice laced with the warmth you couldn’t hide.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. “Not really.” A pause, then he added, “you warm enough?”
The question hung, double-edged, and you nodded too quickly, tail curling around your ankle. “Yeah. Fine.”
He turned back to the stove, stirring whatever simmered there, the spoon clinking rhythmically. Neither pushed further, the tension coiling tighter in the unspoken space between you.
Heat season loomed, promising more, but for now, it simmered in glances and silences, building like the fire before you.
The days blurred into a pattern of restraint. You’d catch yourself staring when he whittled by the window, the knife carving precise lines into the wood, his large hands steady despite the undercurrent.
Your scent filled the cabin more each morning, greeting him upon waking, and he’d open the windows wider, letting the breeze carry it away – or so he told himself.
But it followed him into the woods during hunts, a ghost that made his steps heavier, his focus sharper on the prey to distract from the pull back home.
One afternoon, rain returned, soft and steady, drumming on the roof. You paced the living room subtly, unable to sit still, the flush permanent now on your skin.
Sukuna returned soaked, shaking off his coat in the entryway, water pooling at his boots. The fresh rain mixed with your scent, creating something headier, and he paused, inhaling deeply before schooling his expression.
“Wet out.” He pointed out flatly, hanging the coat and avoiding your eyes as he toed off his boots.
You nodded, shifting from foot to foot near the fire. “Smells like it.”
Your ears perked at his approach, tail swishing once before you stilled it. He moved to the hearth, adding logs with efficient motions, his arm brushing close enough that you felt the heat radiating from him.
A shiver ran through you, not from cold, and you stepped aside, cheeks burning.
He didn’t comment, just stoked the flames higher, the warmth chasing the chill but amplifying your own. Dinner passed in near-silence, forks scraping plates, your leg bouncing under the table until you caught his glance and forced it still.
Obvious wants hung in the air: yours in the flush and fidgets, his in the way he lingered at the table after, eyes tracing the fire instead of you.
As night fell, the rain a lullaby, you retreated to your room, the door a flimsy barrier. Your scent permeated everything now, a silent confession.
Sukuna sat up later, alone by the dying embers, rubbing a hand over his face. Unaffected? Hardly. But he wouldn’t act – not yet.
Heat season arrived without mercy, your body igniting from the inside out.
You didn’t fully understand it – clueless to the full implications, your deer instincts overriding any sense of propriety. The cabin felt smaller, the air thicker, and every brush of fabric against your skin sent sparks racing through you.
You paced the living room in nothing but one of Sukuna’s oversized shirts, the hem skimming your thighs, your scut wagging erratically behind you. Your ears flicked at every sound, and a persistent ache throbbed between your legs, making you shift your hips without thinking.
Sukuna watched from the kitchen, his eyes narrowing as you bent over to pick up a fallen book, the shirt riding up to expose the curve of your ass. Your scent flooded the space, heady and intoxicating, pulling at him like a tether.
You straightened, oblivious, and stretched your arms overhead, the motion arching your back and pressing your breasts against the thin fabric. Nipples hardened visibly, and you let out a soft, unwitting whimper, rubbing your thighs together as you moved to the couch.
He gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, forcing his gaze away.
“Gonna cut wood.” He decided, voice gravelly, grabbing his axe and stalking out the door before the temptation grew any stronger.
Alone, the heat clawed deeper. You tried to distract yourself, but your body betrayed you: fingers trailing absently over your collarbone, down to the hem of the shirt, lifting it slightly as you sat on the floor by the fire. Legs parted just enough to ease the pressure, you rocked subtly, a flush painting your cheeks rosy.
It wasn’t deliberate; you just needed relief from the fire building inside. When that failed, you wandered, drawn to his room by the familiar scent of him on the sheets.
Climbing onto his bed, you buried your face in his pillow, inhaling deeply. The ache intensified, and before you knew it, your hips ground down against the soft mound of fabric, a desperate friction that made your tail flag up.
Tears pricked your eyes as the motion brought fleeting sparks of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. You humped the pillow pathetically, soft sobs escaping as your body wept for more. Clueless to how vulnerable you looked – shirt hiked up, ass in the air, ears flattened in frustration – you kept moving, chasing the elusive release.
Outside, the axe bit into wood with rhythmic thuds, each swing a release for Sukuna’s pent-up tension. Sweat beaded on his brow, his muscles flexing under inked skin, but your scent clung to him even here, a ghost in the breeze.
He worked longer than needed, trying to outrun the pull, but eventually, the pile of logs satisfied him enough to head back. The cabin door creaked open to silence: no soft footsteps, no shifting on the couch.
“Sweetheart? Where are you?” He called, voice echoing off the walls. No answer. Frowning, he checked the kitchen, the porch, then pushed open his bedroom door.
There you were, on his bed, hips rolling against the pillow in desperate, uneven thrusts. Tears streaked your face, your doe ears trembling, tail flicking in distress.
The sight hit him like a punch – your flushed skin, the way your pussy glistened with arousal, lips parted on quiet mewls. His cock twitched hard in his pants, blood rushing south as he stood frozen in the doorway.
“Kuna… mmh!” Your voice came out small, broken, as you lifted your head, eyes glassy with need. You didn’t stop moving, hips grinding down instinctively, but shame flickered in your gaze. “Help... please? It h– hurts…”
He crossed the room in two strides, the door clicking shut behind him. Towering over you, his broad frame cast a shadow, vermillion eyes dark with hunger.
“Fuck, angel…” He growled low, sitting on the bed’s edge and pulling you up by your arms.
You whimpered at the manhandling, body pliant in his grip. “W-Wait—”
“I’ve been holding back for weeks. Watching you tease without even knowing it, and that damn scent everywhere…”
His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away tears, and he kissed you then: gentle at first, lips soft against yours, tongue coaxing your mouth open. You melted into it, mewling softly, your hands clutching his shirt as the ache pulsed hotter.
He broke away, breathing ragged. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart. But tell me if it’s too much.”
You nodded frantically, pleading with your eyes, and he eased you back onto the bed, stripping the shirt from your body. Naked now, you shivered under his gaze, but the heat made you bold – legs parting slightly, inviting him without words.
He shed his clothes quickly, his thick cock springing free, veined and heavy, tip already leaking. Your eyes widened, clueless innocence mixing with raw want, and you reached for him tentatively.
“Gentle, pretty thing.” He murmured, praise lacing his voice as he settled between your thighs.
His large frame loomed over you, the warmth of his body contrasting the cool sheets beneath. One hand stroked your hair, fingers tangling gently in the soft strands near your deer-like ears, which twitched at the touch.
You felt exposed, your hybrid tail flicking nervously against the mattress, but his presence grounded you, making your core ache with need.
He didn’t rush to claim you fully. Instead, his free hand trailed down your side, tracing the curve of your hip, then dipping lower to your inner thigh.
“So ready f’me, aren’t you?.” Sukuna said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through your spine.
His fingers brushed against your slick folds, and you gasped, hips bucking instinctively toward the contact. “Mmf!”
He chuckled softly, the sound dark and approving. “Easy, pretty. Don’t wanna hurt you yet..”
His thumb parted your pussy lips gently, exposing your clit to the air, and you whimpered, your antlers scraping lightly against the pillow as you tilted your head back. He watched your reactions closely, his crimson eyes intense, drinking in every quiver and soft sound you made.
“Tell me what you want.” He commanded, his tone firm but laced with that teasing edge that made your heart race.
“T-Touch me... please.” You breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.
Your hands clutched at the sheets, nails digging in as his finger circled your entrance, gathering your wetness. He pressed one thick digit inside slowly, the intrusion stretching you just enough to make you moan.
It was nothing like his cock, but the sensation was electric, your walls clenching around him immediately.
“Like that?” Sukuna asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he crooked his finger, brushing against that sensitive spot inside you.
You nodded, a whine escaping your throat, your tail thrashing side to side. He added a second finger, scissoring them carefully to open you up, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
The stretch burned faintly, but it melted into pleasure as he began to pump them in and out, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles over it.
Your breath hitched, legs spreading wider to give him better access. “S-Sukuna... it feels... ah!”
The words dissolved into a cry as he increased the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper, curling with each withdrawal to hit that bundle of nerves again and again. Wet sounds filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, your arousal coating his hand.
He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, nipping at the soft fur there. “You’re soaking my fingers, pretty girl. So tight and perfect for me.”
You arched into his touch, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. His other hand left your side to cup one, thumb flicking over your nipple, pinching just hard enough to make you yelp.
The double sensations overwhelmed you: his fingers fucking into your pussy, stretching and filling you, while his mouth descended to your neck, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin where your pulse fluttered wildly.
“More... gimme– gimme more,” you begged, your voice breaking, hips grinding against his hand shamelessly.
He obliged, adding a third finger, the fullness making your eyes roll back.
“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He growled approvingly, his fingers pistoning faster now, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust.
You could feel the pressure building, a coil tightening low in your belly, your deer ears flattening against your head as pleasure bordered on too much. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from the intensity, your body trembling under him.
“P-Please..!” You
“That’s it, let go for me.” Sukuna urged, his voice husky as he watched your face contort in ecstasy.
He twisted his fingers inside you, rubbing relentlessly against your g-spot, while his thumb pressed harder on your swollen clit. The combination shattered you – your walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing as the orgasm crashed over you like a wave.
“Mmh– Ryo!” You cried out, body convulsing, thighs quaking around his wrist as slick gushed over his hand, soaking the sheets beneath.
He didn’t stop immediately, drawing out your release with slow, gentle strokes until you whimpered from oversensitivity, your tail curling around his arm in a weak attempt to pull him closer.
“Good girl,” he praised, withdrawing his fingers with a wet pop, bringing them to his lips to taste you. His eyes locked on yours, dark with promise.
He flipped you suddenly, manhandling you onto your hands and knees with effortless strength, your body pliant under his touch. You scrambled to steady yourself on the mattress, palms sinking into the soft fabric, knees spreading wider as your tail lifted instinctively, baring yourself completely to him.
The cool air kissed your dripping folds, a brief respite before he positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.
“You want it rough, pretty thing? Begging like that.” His voice was a gravelly command, laced with amusement and hunger.
Before you could respond, his hand came down on your ass – a light slap that stung just enough to make you yelp, the impact sending a ripple through your flesh. Heat bloomed across your skin, mingling with the ache between your legs.
Then he thrust back in from behind, the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper, his cock spearing into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.
“Oh! Kuna… so– so big!” You sobbed in pleasure, the stretch more intense now, every inch of him pressing against your sensitive spots as he bottomed out.
Your arms trembled, threatening to give out as you pushed back against him, desperate to feel him everywhere. The slap had left your ass tingling, a warm contrast to the cool sheets, and you arched your back further, presenting yourself like the submissive hybrid you were.
Ears flattening completely, you let out a string of moans, each one higher pitched as the pressure built anew. His hand moved to your antlers, tugging them firmly to guide your head up, forcing you to arch more, your neck straining in the best way.
“Hah, fuck, crying for my cock, hm? Such a good girl, taking it all.” Sukuna’s praise washed over you like liquid fire, igniting your emotions – pride in pleasing him, a deep-seated need to submit, to be his.
He kept the pull steady, not painful but insistent, making you feel owned as he rutted into you. Each thrust was deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, the drag of his veined length against your walls making obscene squelching noises.
Your pussy fluttered around him, juices coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs, the physical sensations overwhelming: the burn in your muscles from holding the position, the slap of his hips against your reddened ass, the way his cock throbbed inside you, hot and unyielding.
You rocked back to meet him, your tail brushing loosely against his thigh in an instinctive gesture of affection amid the roughness. The orgasm you’d felt building earlier surged closer now, coiling tight in your core, your clit throbbing untouched but stimulated by the indirect pressure of his invasions.
Sukuna’s breaths grew ragged, his hand on your hip sliding forward to press against your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his own cock moving inside you.
“Shit, you’re tight... milking me so good.” He muttered, his voice strained with his own rising pleasure. He released your hair momentarily to deliver another light slap to your other cheek, the sound sharp in the room, making you clench harder around him.
The duplicity – pain and pleasure – pushed you closer, your sobs turning into keening cries as the tension wound unbearably tight.
He tugged your antlers again, gentler this time, but enough to keep your gaze forward. His thrusts lost a bit of their rhythm, becoming erratic as he chased his release, but he didn’t let up on the depth, each one punching the air from your lungs.
You felt him everywhere: the heat of his body over yours, the possessive hold, the way his cock pulsed with impending climax.
Emotionally, it was intoxicating; you were his, completely, and the thought alone made your walls spasm.
“Gonna fill you up, angel. Pump you full until you’re bred, carrying my scent forever.”
The words made you whine, clenching harder, and you came again: shaking, tears streaming as waves crashed over you. “Ah! I’m gonna– cumming!”
He chuckled, voice strained. “Fuck, listen to you. So desperate for my cum. Nghh– an’ you’re shy now? After slutting out on my—haah—bed?”
You hid your face in the pillow, flushing deeper, but your hips ground back, asking for more without words. He pulled out briefly, flipping you onto your back once more, hooking your legs over his shoulders.
The position folded you, letting him drive in deep, balls slapping against your ass with each rough pound. His eyes – the prettiest, deepest red – locked on yours, wild and possessive. “Don’t hide, sweetheart. Want you looking at me when you cum again.”
Pleasure dumbed your mind, thoughts scattering into nothing but him – his cock stretching you, his grunts, the pull on your hair as he leaned down to capture your lips.
You came a third time, crying out his name, body convulsing as he chased his own release.
“That’s my girl.” He praised, thrusting erratically. “Milk me dry, pretty thing. Gonna breed this pussy.”
With a final, deep shove, he buried himself and came – hot spurts flooding you, his groan rumbling through his chest. You felt every pulse, the warmth spreading, and it triggered one last, shuddering orgasm from you, tears of pure bliss soaking the sheets.
He collapsed gently atop you, still inside, peppering your face with soft kisses. “Good job, angel. Took me so well.”
You panted, cockdrunk haze settling, shying into his neck with a whimper.
He chuckled tiredly, stroking your back. “Heat’s not over yet, sweetheart.”
Your body trembled beneath Satoru, slick with sweat and the remnants of your shared releases, the sheets a tangled mess around your legs.
You’d lost count after the third time he’d pushed you over the edge, his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy each time, filling you with hot spurts of cum that still leaked out now, mixing with your own juices.
The room smelled of sex – musky, intoxicating – and the air was thick with your ragged breaths. But Satoru? He was still going strong, his hips snapping forward in a steady rhythm that made your walls clench around his thick length, even as he rambled on like this was just another casual conversation.
“You know, I was thinking earlier about that new mochi place downtown.” He began, his voice light and teasing, white hair falling into his blindfolded eyes as he thrust deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
His girth stretched you wide, your pussy lips swollen and puffy from the hours of friction, gripping him like a vice every time he pulled back.
“They’ve got this—hngh—matcha flavor that’s supposed to be out of this world. We should go after this ‘nd grab s– some and just wander around. What do you think?”
A whine escaped your lips, high and needy, as his cock plunged back in, bottoming out with a wet slap against your ass.
Your thighs quivered, spread wide for him, and you could feel every ridge and vein of him sliding through your soaked folds.
“S– Satoru... ah!” It was all you could manage, your voice breaking into a moan as pleasure coiled tight in your belly again.
Your clit throbbed, untouched but hypersensitive from the way his pelvis ground against it with each thrust.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “C-Come on, don’t leave me hanging here. Matcha or strawberry? I bet you’d love the strawberry– mmh, sweet, just like you.”
His pace didn’t falter, hips rolling in a way that made his balls slap rhythmically against your skin, heavy and full despite the loads he’d already emptied into you.
Cum from before squelched out around his shaft, dripping down to your ass, making everything even messier, even hotter.
“Nngh... Satoru, please…” You arched your back, nails digging into his shoulders, but words failed you as another wave of sensation crashed over you.
Your pussy was utterly wrecked: lips engorged, inner walls tender and fluttering, coated in a creamy mix of his seed and your arousal.
Each thrust pushed more of that mess out, dribbling down your crack to the sheets below, but he didn’t care, and neither could you in this haze.
“You know what else I was thinking?” Satoru continued seamlessly, his voice a playful lilt even as sweat beaded on his brow. His blindfold was askew, but those piercing blue eyes peeked out just enough to lock on yours, full of mischief.
He shifted his angle slightly, his thick shaft grinding against your front wall, the veiny underside rubbing your g-spot with precision that made your toes curl.
“We need to plan a vacation. Somewhere tropical—mmn, no curses, just beaches and drinks with little umbrellas. You in a bikini? H– Haah, shit, I’d never leave your side.”
You cried out, a sharp “Nh, fuck!” that dissolved into whimpers, your body shaking as you clung to him.
Your breasts heaved with each breath, nipples hard and aching, brushing against his chest. He didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t stop talking.
“But seriously, I could use a break if it means I get to see you all dolled up.” He added casually, one hand sliding down to grip your hip, fingers digging in just enough to bruise.
"Satoru... oh god, I—mmph!" Your reply was cut off by a moan, your head falling back against the pillow as he picked up speed, his cock pistoning in and out of your drenched pussy.
The sounds were obscene: wet schlicks filling the room, your arousal coating his length, making it glisten every time he pulled out halfway, only to slam back in.
Your inner walls were raw, sensitive from the multiple orgasms, but the fullness of him, the way he filled every inch of you, kept you teetering on the edge.
He grinned, that playful smirk you could feel even through the blindfold, and nipped at your collarbone.
“Hm? What, you can’t take anymore? What happened to the s– stubborn girl from earlier?”
His free hand roamed up your side, thumb circling your nipple absentmindedly as he fucked into you harder, the bed creaking under the force.
You whined louder, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, pulling him deeper. “Hah.. shut up, don’t stop…”
It was fragmented, breathless, your mind hazy with the building pressure. Your pussy clenched again, harder this time, and he let out a low hum of approval, but his words kept flowing.
“Look at’chu.. you’re sweeter than any of that mochi, aren’t you? All flushed ‘nd perfect." His voice dropped an octave on the praise, hand cupping your breast, pinching the nipple lightly.
But then he was back to rambling.
“I could go for ramen, extra spicy.” He trailed off, then thrust hard, making you gasp.
“Satoru! Oh god, yes—right there!” You cried out, voice breaking, your body arching off the bed.
Your pussy was a mess, swollen and dripping, clenching rhythmically around his invading cock. The head dragged along your g-spot with every pull back, sending shocks of pleasure through you.
He hummed thoughtfully. “Although, on second thought, I don’t have the best spice tolerance. Isn’t that right p– pretty girl?”
“Ahn! Satoru, I’m gonna—nngh!” Your words dissolved into moans, whines spilling from your lips uncontrollably. Your thighs shook, pussy fluttering wildly around him, the pressure building to a fever pitch.
He was so deep, so full, his cock leaking pre-cum inside you, mixing with the cum already there.
Satoru laughed again, but it was strained now, his hips snapping faster, chasing his release. “God, you feel incredible. My good girl, taking every– haah, inch.”
The praise hit you like a spark, and combined with his relentless pounding, you shattered. “Satoru! Fuck—cumming!”
Your orgasm crashed over you, pussy convulsing in waves, squeezing his cock like it never wanted to let go. Juices gushed out around him, soaking his groin, and you wailed, body seizing up, nails raking down his back.
He groaned, finally faltering in his chatter as your walls milked him. "S– Shit—yeah, just like that. Fuck, you’re pulling me in..."
But even as he came, hips stuttering, he managed a few more words. “Gonna fill you up again—ngh, so tight!—take it all, baby.” Hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, painting your insides, flooding your pussy until it overflowed, leaking out in thick streams.
You whimpered through the aftershocks – “Mmm... Satoru... so full…” – as he collapsed half on top of you, still buried deep, his cock twitching with the last spurts.
He panted, nuzzling your neck. “Whew. So, about that mochi... tomorrow?”
But your only response was a soft, exhausted moan, body limp and sated beneath him.
castle crashers 😁😁😁😆😆!! i still draw! if your curious😇 frost king, barbarian boss, blacksmith😍.. any1 else wanna be crushed by the barbarian boss k bye
── synopsis .✦ juggling lectures and a part-time job is no easy feat, and your lazy roommate, ryomen sukuna, isnt making it any easier! in relatiation, you intend to wipe that smirk clean off of his face by putting (or rather, fucking) him in his place!
── contains .✦ light angst, sukuna is a bum, modern!au, p in v, hate sex, riding, teasing, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, light scratching, light hair pulling/tugging, mdni!
── word count .✦ 2.4k!
based off of this request!
art by @sebnchosongetosowlett !! (@/jinxiink on instagram!) PLEASE CHECK HER OUT SHES SO COOL!!!!
You’d known Ryomen Sukuna for about six months now, ever since you’d answered that frantic ad for a roommate on a local university bulletin board.
The apartment was a steal: two bedrooms, a decent kitchen, and close enough to campus that you could walk to your lectures without breaking a sweat.
Sukuna had seemed like a good fit at first glance: tall, broad-shouldered, with those striking tattoos curling over his skin like ancient markings, and a smirk that suggested he knew more than he let on. He worked odd jobs, or so he claimed, but mostly he lounged around, claiming the freelance life suited him.
You, on the other hand, were the epitome of structure: a third-year literature major juggling endless readings, group projects, and a part-time gig at the cozy cafe down the block to pay your share of the rent.
The place was a modest two-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood, but Sukuna’s habits quickly turned it into a battlefield of clutter.
At first, it was small things: his sneakers kicked off haphazardly by the door, forcing you to sidestep them after a long day. Then came the empty takeout containers piling up on the coffee table, the faint smell of stale fried rice lingering in the air.
You’d remind him politely: “Hey, Sukuna, could you toss those when you’re done?”
In return, he’d grunt something noncommittal, his red eyes flicking over you with mild amusement before returning to whatever show blared from the TV.
As weeks turned into months, the mess escalated.
Dirty laundry draped over the couch like forgotten flags, his weights and protein shake bottles cluttering the hallway. The kitchen sink became a graveyard for unwashed dishes, and you found yourself doing double duty just to keep the space livable.
Your schedule left little room for this; mornings started at dawn with coffee brewing while you reviewed notes, afternoons swallowed by lectures on Victorian novels or postmodern poetry, and evenings behind the cafe counter, steaming lattes and wiping down tables until your feet ached.
By the time you dragged yourself home, the last thing you needed was to navigate Sukuna’s chaos.
You tried talking to him about it multiple times.
Once, over a rare shared pizza – your treat, since he’d ‘forgotten’ his wallet – you sat him down at the rickety kitchen table.
“Sukuna, this isn’t working. The place is a disaster, and I’m picking up all the slack. We need to split chores or something.”
He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, that perpetual smirk tugging at his lips.
“Relax, doll. It’s just stuff. It’ll get done eventually.” His voice was a low rumble, dismissive, like your concerns were a minor inconvenience.
You pushed, frustration bubbling, but he just shrugged, popping another slice into his mouth.
“Not my style to play maid.”
Another time, after finding his gym bag leaking sweat onto the bathroom floor, you cornered him in the living room.
He was sprawled on the couch, feet up on the armrest, scrolling through his phone.
“Seriously? This has to stop. I’m exhausted, and you’re just... making it worse.”
He glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly, but the cockiness didn’t fade. “You sound like my mom. Lighten up.”
You stormed off, slamming your bedroom door, but the next day, nothing changed. If anything, it got worse: a half-eaten bag of chips spilled across the counter, crumbs everywhere.
Your days blurred into a relentless rhythm. Wake at 6 AM, shower quickly to avoid the grime building in the shared bathroom, scarf down toast while cramming for midterms.
Lectures dragged on; Professor Hale’s monotone on symbolism in Eliot had you fighting yawns by noon. Then the cafe shift: the hiss of the espresso machine, the chatter of students ordering their fixes, the burn in your calves from standing too long.
Tips were decent, but by 8 PM, when you finally unlocked the apartment door, all you craved was collapse.
Today was no different, but worse.
The lecture on feminist critiques in Brontë had run overtime, debating themes that hit too close to your own frustrations with unequal loads.
Then the cafe rush: a group of rowdy undergrads spilling drinks, forcing you to mop up while smiling through gritted teeth. Your uniform clung damply to your skin, hair frizzing from the steam, backpack heavy with books.
As you pushed open the door, the familiar scent hit you: unwashed dishes, faint body odor, and now, the sharp tang of beer.
Sukuna lounged on the couch like a king on his throne, legs spread wide, a fresh can cracked open on the coffee table amid a fortress of empty ones.
The TV droned some action flick, explosions lighting his tattooed face in flickering glows. His shirt was rumpled, pants unbuttoned at the top like he couldn’t be bothered.
The living room was a war zone: pizza boxes stacked haphazardly, his jacket flung over a chair, socks balled up on the floor. The kitchen, visible from the entryway, overflowed with sinks full of plates crusted with remnants of whatever he’d microwaved last night.
You dropped your bag by the door, the thud echoing.
“Sukuna.” Your voice was tight, edged with the exhaustion of the day.
He didn’t even look up at first, taking a slow swig from the can.
“Doll.” He drawled, finally glancing your way, smirk in place. “Rough day?”
“Rough day? Look around!” You gestured wildly, heat rising in your chest. “This place is a pigsty. I come home every night to this, and you? You’re just sitting here, beer in hand, like nothing’s wrong.”
He chuckled, low and mocking, setting the can down. “It’s not that bad. Chill.”
“Not that bad? I’ve asked you a dozen times. Reminded you. Begged, even. And nothing. I’m done cleaning up after you.” Your hands clenched at your sides, the ache in your legs forgotten in the surge of anger.
He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, that predatory glint in his eyes.
“What’re you gonna do about it, then? Kick me out?”
The words hung there, challenging.
You’d thought about it – finding a new roommate, someone reliable – but rent was due soon, and options were slim. No, you needed a different approach, something to shake that smugness.
Your gaze dropped to his lap, the way his thighs strained against his pants, and an impulsive idea sparked, born of frustration and the undercurrent of tension that had simmered between you two since day one.
He was attractive, infuriatingly so, and maybe, just maybe, you could turn the tables.
Without a word, you strode over, heart pounding.
He watched, amused, as you planted yourself in front of him, hands on hips.
“Move over.” You snapped.
He blinked, then grinned wider, shifting just enough for you to straddle his lap.
The couch dipped under your weight, his body solid and warm beneath you. “What’s this? Finally cracking under the pressure?”
“Shut up.” You hissed, leaning in close, your face inches from his. “You think you can just lounge around, making me do everything? Fine. I’ll make you pay attention.”
Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward for a bruising kiss. He froze for a split second, surprise flickering, before his mouth slanted against yours, hot and demanding.
His tongue swept in, tasting of beer and something darker, and you poured your anger into it, nipping at his lip hard enough to draw a growl.
You ground down against him, feeling the immediate stir of his arousal pressing up through his pants. Good. Let him feel out of control for once.
Your fingers worked at his belt, fumbling in your haste, and he laughed against your mouth. “Eager, huh? Didn’t know you had it in you.”
You ignored him, popping the button and tugging down his zipper. His cock sprang free as you shoved his pants aside – no underwear, of course – and your breath caught.
It was massive. Thick, veined, the head already flushed and leaking pre-cum, curving slightly upward like a promise of ruin.
You’d heard rumors about Sukuna, the way he carried himself, but seeing it... your core clenched involuntarily, a mix of apprehension and heat flooding you.
He noticed your pause, his hands settling on your hips with a squeeze. “Impressed? Or scared off already?”
You glared down at him, cheeks burning. No backing down now.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” But your voice wavered as you shifted, hiking up your skirt and shoving your panties aside.
You were already wet – anger and exhaustion twisting into something primal – and you positioned yourself over him, the tip nudging your entrance.
Slowly, you sank down, the stretch immediate and intense. He was too big, splitting you open inch by inch, your walls fluttering around the intrusion.
A gasp escaped you, hands bracing on his shoulders as you took more, the burn mingling with sparks of pleasure.
“Fuck…” He muttered, eyes darkening, but that cocky grin lingered. “Tight little thing. Go on, doll. Ride me if you’re so tough.”
You glared, nails digging into his skin, and forced yourself lower, until he was fully sheathed, your pussy clenching around his girth.
It hurt, deliciously so, every ridge and vein pressing against your sensitive spots. You paused, breathing ragged, adjusting to the fullness that made your thighs tremble.
Then you moved. Up, slow and deliberate, then down, setting a rhythm that was more grind than bounce at first.
His hands gripped your ass, guiding but not taking over – not yet.
“That’s it.” He cooed, voice rough. “Show me what you’ve got.”
You wanted to argue, to keep lecturing him about the mess, but words dissolved into moans as you rocked harder, the friction building heat in your core.
His cock dragged along your walls, hitting deep, and you circled your hips, chasing the pressure against your clit.
Sweat beaded on your skin, your uniform blouse sticking to your back.
You leaned forward, capturing his mouth again to silence his taunts, but he broke it with a chuckle. “Knew you wanted this. All that nagging was just foreplay.”
“Shut—ah!—Shut up.” you panted, lifting higher now, slamming down with more force.
The slap of skin echoed, your pussy soaking him, easing the way. Pleasure coiled tight, your breasts heaving with each breath, nipples hard against your bra.
He watched you, eyes hooded, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through the fabric, thumb circling the peak.
“Look at you, bouncing like you own me.”
You wanted to retort, but the words caught as his other hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in firm circles. The added sensation shattered your control; you rode faster, chasing the edge, your thighs burning from the effort.
It built slowly, that first orgasm: a wave cresting after what felt like eternity of grinding, his cock stretching you relentlessly. Your walls fluttered, then clamped down, pleasure ripping through you in shuddering pulses.
You cried out, head thrown back, nails raking his chest as you came, juices coating him, dripping down his balls.
“Fuck, just like that, doll. Keep—nnh!—cummin’, yeah?” He groaned, hips twitching up once, but holding back.
Your legs gave out then, the burn in your muscles too much after the long day, trembling uncontrollably. You collapsed forward, chest heaving against his, still impaled on his cock.
He laughed softly, hands stroking your back in a surprisingly gentle touch. “Tired already, sweetheart?”
The shift in endearment sent a shiver through you, but you were too spent to protest.
“Mmn, legs burn.” you whispered, aftershocks rippling.
He hummed, one hand tangling in your hair, tilting your head to kiss your neck softly. ’Let me take over, baby. You’ve made your point.’
Before you could respond, he thrust up sharply, the angle hitting your g-spot dead-on. You yelped, clutching him as he set a brutal pace from below, his hips snapping up into you.
Each drive was deep, possessive, his cock pistoning in and out with wet sounds filling the room. You rocked with him, the earlier fatigue melting into renewed heat.
His free hand roamed: squeezing your ass, tracing the curve of your spine, dipping to where you joined to feel himself sliding in.
“So wet f’me…” he murmured, voice husky. “Feel that? You’re—hah—gripping me like you never want to let go.”
You moaned, burying your face in his neck, inhaling his musky scent. The touches grounded you, his fingers now soothing circles on your thigh, then pinching lightly to spark jolts.
Between thrusts, he slowed once, grinding deep, letting you feel every inch. “Tell me how it feels, baby. My cock filling you up.”
“So... full.” You gasped, clenching around him. “Don’t stop.”
He obliged, building speed again, but pausing to kiss your shoulder, teeth grazing skin.
Time stretched, the second build-up languid, drawn out by his teasing rhythm: hard thrusts followed by shallow grinds, his thumb back on your clit, rolling it until you whimpered.
Sweat slicked your bodies, your skirt bunched at your waist, his shirt rucked up to expose rippling abs.
You licked a stripe up his throat, tasting salt, and he groaned, rewarding you with a particularly deep plunge. “Good girl. Take it all.”
Interactions wove through the haze: his whispers in your ear. “You feel perfect, sweetheart—so tight, so hot.”
Your hands explore his tattoos, tracing the lines as he fucks up into you, the contrast of ink and flushed skin mesmerizing. He captured your lips in a slow kiss, tongues tangling lazily while his hips rolled, drawing out the tension.
“Not done yet.” He said against your mouth, slowing to a torturous grind. “Want you to come again for me.”
You did, eventually, the orgasm crashing slower this time, deeper, waves of ecstasy pulsing from your core outward.
Your pussy spasmed around him, milking his cock, and he followed with a guttural moan, thrusting erratically as he came, hot spurts filling you, leaking out around his base.
“Fuck, baby…” He panted, holding you close as you both trembled.
Spent, you slumped against him, his arms wrapping around your waist. The room quieted, only heavy breaths and the distant TV hum.
Gently, he kissed the side of your head, lips lingering.
“Alright, doll.” He muttered into your ear, voice soft. “I’ll clean up. Starting tomorrow, no more mess, yeah?”
You smiled faintly, too blissed to argue, as his fingers stroked your hair.
Hellooo my dear! Are your requests open for jjk only?? If yes, can I ask modern AU roommate sukuna? I can’t seem to read enough about this sucker 😭 if you’re open for Jojo still, can I request something for Bruno? I love your writing and I’m happy with whatever you do 🌹🌹 ily thank you so much! xxx
hihi ml!!
as much as i would like to write for sukuna AND bruno, i dont feel the jjba drive anymore.. but this is the request that ive gotten custom art made for, and i have a nice plot heh
and tysm that you like my work its an honour 🥺🥺 ilyt!!!!!!!!
⋆.𐙚 ̊ ̊ in a world full of hybrids, lion!sukuna is by far the most confusing - request!
Sukuna Ryomen, the lion hybrid you’d adopted on a whim from that rundown shelter on the edge of the city, embodied chaos wrapped in golden fur and piercing red eyes.
His mane wasn’t the full, wild thing you’d expect from a lion – more like tousled spikes of pinkish hair that framed his sharp features – but the ears twitching atop his head and the long, tufted tail that swished with irritation marked him clearly.
His teeth, sharper than any human’s and retractable when he wasn’t baring them in a snarl, added to the enigma.
He was grumpy, always had been, from the moment you signed the papers and brought him home.
You remembered that first week vividly.
Sukuna had prowled your small apartment like he owned it, his massive frame – broad shoulders, rippling muscles under tawny skin – making the space feel even smaller.
He’d ignored your attempts at conversation, his responses limited to grunts or dismissive flicks of his tail. He pushed you away with every glare and every turned back, building walls higher than the city skyline.
Physically, too, when you got too close. Like that afternoon you’d tried to offer him a blanket for the couch, leaning in with a smile. His large hand had pressed gently but firmly against your shoulder, guiding you back a step.
“Give me space, woman.” He’d muttered, voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, not entirely from fear.
But the real trouble started with his claws.
Retractable, yes, but deadly when extended, curved like scythes and begging for maintenance.
On one of your first days together, you’d come home from work to find the side of your beloved couch shredded. Long gashes marred the fabric, tufts of stuffing peeking out like wounds.
Sukuna lounged there, unrepentant, his tail draped over the armrest as he idly sharpened another set of claws against the leg of the coffee table. The scrape of keratin on wood echoed through the room, deliberate and rhythmic.
“Sukuna!” You’d exclaimed, dropping your bag.
He hadn’t even looked up, just continued the motion, his ears flicking once in acknowledgment.
You’d launched into a stern lecture then, hands on hips, explaining how this was your home, not some savanna den, and that he couldn’t just destroy things.
He listened – or pretended to – with that nonchalant expression, red eyes half-lidded, a faint smirk playing on his lips that showed just a hint of those sharp canines.
It wasn’t until you threatened to clip his claws yourself, pulling out a pair of heavy-duty clippers from the kitchen drawer, that he paused. His tail lashed once, sharply, and he retracted them with a huff.
“Fine.” He’d growled, stretching out on the ruined couch and promptly falling asleep, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths.
The sight of him there, so vulnerable in repose despite his ferocity, had softened your resolve just a bit.
From then on, the scratching stopped – at least on your furniture.
Sukuna found other ways to assert his grumpiness during the day. He’d sprawl across the couch like a king on his throne, blocking your path if you tried to sit, or he’d retreat to the balcony, staring out at the hybrid-filled streets below with a scowl.
Interactions were minimal; he’d eat the meals you prepared without thanks, clean himself meticulously with long licks of his tongue over his arms, and avoid your gaze. It felt like he was keeping you at arm’s length, testing boundaries, daring you to give up on him. But you didn’t.
There was something magnetic about his aloofness, the way his tail would betray him with a subtle twitch when you entered the room, or how his ears perked ever so slightly at your voice.
Nights, though – that was when the lion in him emerged in a different way.
Lions were social creatures, pack animals at heart, and Sukuna couldn’t deny his nature forever.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights flickered on, he’d slink back inside, his steps silent despite his size.
You’d be in the living room, curled up with a book or scrolling through your phone, when you’d feel it: the weight of his presence, the warmth radiating from his body before he even touched you.
The first time it happened, you’d frozen as he draped himself over you like a living blanket.
His arms encircled your waist from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he settled on the couch. Tail curling around your thigh, the tuft brushed your skin softly.
“Sukuna?” You’d whispered, heart pounding.
He’d only grumbled something incoherent, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
Those sharp teeth grazed lightly, not biting, just a reminder of his wild side. And then, the purring started: a deep, vibrating rumble that emanated from his chest, soothing and intimate.
You’d reached up tentatively, fingers threading through the soft fur behind his ears. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes closing in bliss, his tail flicking back and forth in slow, contented sweeps.
The grumpiness melted away in those moments, replaced by a raw vulnerability that made your chest ache. He’d purr louder when you scratched just right, the sound vibrating through both of you, drawing you closer.
As the nights progressed, the cuddling became ritual.
When you retreated to bed, he’d follow, slipping under the covers without a word. His body was a furnace, all that hybrid heat pressing against you, chasing away the chill of the apartment.
He’d spoon you from behind, one arm slung over your hip, his legs tangled with yours. His tail would wrap around your calf, holding you in place, while his ears brushed your hair.
In the quiet darkness, he’d nuzzle your shoulder, lips – soft despite the fangs that peeked out – pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“Warm enough?” He’d murmur sometimes, voice husky with sleep, as if he knew how his presence turned your bed into a cocoon of comfort.
You loved it, the contrast between his daytime detachment and nighttime affection. He’d pull you flush against him, his heartbeat a steady drum under your palm when you turned to face him.
Fingers would trace idle patterns on your back, claws retracted to soft nubs that tickled rather than scratched.
And when you scratched behind his ears again, he’d arch into it, purring so deeply it felt like thunder in your veins. His tail flicked against the sheets, a rhythmic thump of satisfaction, as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.
Mornings brought the cycle full circle.
The alarm would buzz, and Sukuna would stir, his warmth lingering even as he rolled away with a groan. By the time you sat up, he’d be on the other side of the bed, stretching languidly, ears flat against his head in grumpy protest at the daylight.
“Too early…” He’d mutter, pushing your hand away if you reached for him, a gentle shove to your shoulder that lacked any real force.
He’d pad to the kitchen, tail swishing irritably, and ignore you while pouring coffee – though you’d catch him glancing back, a flicker of softness in those red eyes before the mask slipped back on.
Yet, as you watched him sharpen his claws on a scratching post you’d bought just for him (no more threats needed), you couldn’t help but smile.
The push and pull, the gruff exterior hiding a creature who craved your touch – it was confusing, yes, but it was yours.
And in the quiet moments, when his tail brushed your leg accidentally (on purpose) or his purr rumbled low in his chest, you knew he felt the same.
Days blurred into this pattern, each one reinforcing the bond you were forging.
One evening, after a particularly long day at work, you came home to find him waiting—not on the couch, but by the door, arms crossed, ears twitching.
“You’re late.” He grumbled, but there was no bite to it.
You stepped closer, testing, and this time, he didn’t push you away. Instead, his hand caught your wrist, pulling you into his chest. The hug was brief, awkward in his grumpiness, but his tail curled around your waist, holding you there.
That night, the cuddling was more intense. He draped over you fully, your back to his front, his mouth at your ear.
“Missed you.” He admitted in a rare whisper, teeth nipping gently at your lobe.
You twisted to face him, scratching behind his ears until his eyes fluttered shut, purrs filling the room.
His warmth enveloped you, chasing away the exhaustion, as his hands roamed your sides—not demanding, just possessive, fingers splaying over your hips.
In the morning, the push returned: a gentle nudge as he escaped the bed, muttering about breakfast.
But as you followed him to the kitchen, his tail flicked against your hand, an invitation to close the distance again.
The cycle continued, grumpy days melting into intimate nights, each loop drawing you tighter together.
Sukuna Ryomen, your confusing lion hybrid, was worth every scratched couch and stern lecture.
i think ive reached flow state because im already working on lion hybrid sukuna even though i just posted...
on an even more positive note, im working with my number 1 fan, @sebnchosongetosowlett in order to bring you guys a modern/roommate au sukuna! (yes im combining 2 requests into 1)
he's doing some custom art for me that's gonna go in the dividers, and let me tell you it looks SO GOOD already.
and maybe ive asked if he has time to draw me another for a toji fic that'll be coming up.. who knows..
EITHER WAY, he has amazingly good drawings (which im not sure if he posts here, but he posts them on instagram @/jinxiink), and you guys NEED to check it out and follow him. i promise
⋆.𐙚 ̊ ̊ sub!choso and valentine's day chocolate - mdni!
The warm, sticky trail of melted chocolate cascaded down Choso’s bare chest, the liquid heat contrasting sharply with the cool air of the bedroom.
You hovered above him, straddling his hips with your thighs pressed firmly against his sides, your naked body flushed from the anticipation.
Choso lay beneath you, completely exposed, his pale skin already marked with faint smears from earlier drips. His dark hair fanned out on the pillow, but right now, he looked anything but fierce – his lips parted in a soft gasp, eyes wide and pleading as the chocolate pooled in the dip of his collarbone.
It had all started earlier that evening, a Valentine’s Day surprise you’d planned meticulously.
Choso, you decided, deserved something sweet and indulgent after how gently and lovingly he treated you. You’d hidden the box of premium chocolates in the kitchen, melting a generous portion over a double boiler while he was out on a quick errand.
When he returned, you’d lured him to the bedroom with a coy smile and a trail of rose petals, only to push him gently onto the bed and strip him bare before revealing your treat.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Choso.” You’d whispered, watching his cheeks flush as you shed your own clothes. Now, here you were, turning him into your personal canvas.
You tilted the small bowl in your hand, letting another slow rivulet of the warm chocolate snake down his sternum, watching it spread and glisten under the soft lamp light.
The temperature was just right – not scalding, but hot enough to make his muscles twitch beneath the surface.
Choso’s breath hitched, a low whine escaping his throat as the sensation hit him.
“Ah—it’s... warm.” He murmured, his voice already trembling, those deep eyes locking onto yours with a mix of vulnerability and need.
Leaning down, you dragged your tongue along the path you’d just created, starting from his chest to the base of his throat and lapping up the sweetness with deliberate, unhurried strokes.
The chocolate melted further against your mouth, mingling with the faint salt of his skin.
Choso bucked his hips involuntarily, his body flinching at the dual assault of heat and your wet, teasing tongue. His hands fisted the sheets beside him, knuckles whitening as he tried to stay still, but you could feel the tension coiling in him like a spring.
“Mmm, you taste even better like this, Cho’.” You praised softly, your voice light and playful, a giggle bubbling up as you felt his cock – already hard and pressing insistently against your inner thigh – throb in response.
It was thick, veined along its length, the shaft curving slightly upward with a flushed, deep pink hue that darkened toward the tip. The head was broad and smooth, glistening with a bead of precum that betrayed how worked up he already was.
You loved how it jumped at the slightest provocation, a testament to his submissiveness, how every touch unraveled him so completely.
He whimpered, a soft, needy sound that sent a thrill straight to your core. “Please– mmh..! That feels so good. ’M gonna go crazy..”
His hips shifted again, seeking friction, but you pressed your weight down just enough to pin him in place, denying him that relief.
You traced your tongue lower, circling his nipple where a stray drop had landed, flicking the hardened bud with the flat of your tongue before sucking gently. Choso’s back arched, another whine spilling from his lips as his thighs trembled beneath you.
“The chocolate’s still warm, isn’t it? You keep flinching.”
You drizzled a little more, this time aiming for the defined ridges of his abs, watching the liquid pool in the valleys between muscles honed from endless fights.
He gasped, body jerking as the heat seeped in, and you followed immediately with your mouth, licking broad stripes across his stomach. Your tongue pressed flat, savoring the mix of flavors, the way his skin quivered under the attention.
Choso’s whines grew higher-pitched, his hands finally reaching up to grip your shoulders, fingers digging in just a bit too desperately.
“You’re so sensitive, Cho’. It’s adorable.” You giggled again, the sound light and affectionate, as you nipped at his side, feeling him shudder.
His cock twitched against you, the length sliding along your slick folds without entering, and you could feel how desperately it pulsed, seeking more. But you weren’t ready to give in yet.
Instead, you lifted the bowl higher, letting a thin stream fall directly onto the tip of his cock.
The warm chocolate hit the sensitive head, and Choso’s entire body seized. His cock jerked violently, the shaft thickening even more as the heat enveloped it, a fresh bead of precum mixing with the chocolate.
“Oh god—! That’s—hnn!—too much!” He cried out, his head tipping back against the pillow, neck straining as waves of pleasure-pain shot through him.
His thighs shook uncontrollably now, muscles clenching and releasing in rapid succession, and his whines turned into breathless pleas.
“Please, it feels insane—hot and sticky, and I—”
You couldn’t resist the sight of him like this, utterly wrecked from something so simple.
Dipping your head, you started at the base, your tongue swirling around the thick root where chocolate had dripped down. The flavor was richer here, blended with his musky arousal, and you hummed in approval, the vibration making his hips buck wildly.
Slowly, you licked upward, tracing every vein, every ridge, until you reached the head. Your lips parted, and you sucked the tip into your mouth, tongue lapping greedily at the chocolate-coated crown.
Choso’s eyes squeezed shut, a guttural moan ripping from his chest as his body went rigid, then limp, overwhelmed.
“Yes—yes, just like that! Don’t stop– ah, fuck, please don’t stop!” His begging was frantic, voice cracking with desperation, hands now tangled in your hair, not pulling but holding on for dear life.
You took him deeper for a moment, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue, feeling his cock throb against your palate, the veins pulsing with his racing heartbeat.
But as he started to thrust shallowly, chasing the edge, you pulled back with a wet pop, denying him the release he craved.
A string of saliva and chocolate connected your lips to his tip, and you licked it away with a playful grin.
“Not yet, baby. You’re doing so well, but I wanna drag this out a little longer.” You praised him, your tone teasing yet warm, watching as his chest heaved, frustration and need warring on his face.
His cock stood proud, now shiny from your saliva rather than just chocolate, twitching in the air as if protesting the loss of your mouth.
Choso whimpered pitifully, his compliant nature fully on display: eyes glassy, lips swollen from biting them, body a trembling mess beneath you.
You shifted your position slightly, aligning yourself over him, your pussy hovering just above his length. The heat from his cock radiated up, mixing with your own arousal, and you could feel how wet you were, slickness coating your thighs.
“So desperate aren’t you? It’s turning me on so much.” Another giggle escaped as you sank down slowly, inch by torturous inch, enveloping his thick cock in your tight heat.
Choso’s eyes rolled back instantly, whites flashing as a deep, throaty moan tore from him.
“Fuck– so tight… haah, you’re squeezing me so good.” He gasped, his hands flying to your hips, fingers bruising as he gripped desperately, trying to pull you down faster.
But you controlled the pace, lowering yourself languidly, feeling every stretch, every vein dragging against your inner walls. His cock filled you completely, the broad head nudging deep inside, pressing against that spot that made your breath catch.
Once fully seated, you paused, rolling your hips in a slow circle to adjust, and Choso bucked up weakly, whining at the friction. “Please... move. I need it—ngh!—need you to ride me.”
“Patience, Choso. You’re being such a good boy for me.” You reached for the bowl again, pouring a fresh line of melted chocolate across his chest, letting it drip over his pecs and down to his nipples.
The warmth made him flinch once more, his cock twitching inside you in response, and you leaned forward to lick it off. Your tongue flicked at one nipple, then the other, sucking each into your mouth with gentle pulls that had him arching beneath you.
The chocolate smeared across your lips, sweet and decadent, as you praised between laps. “These are so sensitive... you like when I tease them, don’t you?”
He was a complete mess now: whimpers constant, body slick with sweat and chocolate remnants, hips jerking erratically as you began to rise and fall in a slow rhythm.
Each descent took him deep, your pussy clenching around his length, milking him with every upward slide.
Choso’s grip on your hips tightened, guiding you but not forcing, his submissiveness shining through in the way he let you lead.
“Uh-huh—mmh!—love it. You’re... it’s too good. Please, let me cum soon. I can’t hold it.” His voice was wrecked, begging interspersed with moans, eyes locked on where your bodies joined, watching his cock disappear into you.
You giggled at his pleas, the sound breathy as pleasure built in your core. Picking up a small piece of unmelted chocolate from the box beside the bed, you popped it into your mouth, letting it soften on your tongue.
Then, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a messy kiss. The chocolate transferred between you, tongues tangling in a slick, sweet exchange – his mouth eager, sucking on your tongue as if it were the only thing grounding him.
Chocolate smeared across his chin, your lips, but neither of you cared; the kiss deepened, all heat and desperation, while you ground down harder, feeling his cock pulse inside you.
Choso thrust up to meet you, the movement uncontrolled, his whines muffled against your mouth. #
“Gonna cum—please, I need to. You feel so– so perfect..!” He broke the kiss to gasp, forehead pressing to yours, breaths mingling in hot pants.
You could feel yourself getting close too, the coil tightening with every slide of his thick shaft against your walls, the way his head bumped that sweet spot deep inside.
“Not yet—ahn!—wait for me, Cho’. Just a little longer.” Your voice was teasing, but laced with your own building ecstasy.
You rode him steadily, hips circling at the bottom of each stroke to grind your clit against his pubic bone. Choso’s hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit with surprising accuracy despite his haze.
He rubbed in firm circles, the pressure just right, drawing a moan from your throat.
“Yes—right there..! ‘M gonna cum!”
His touch sent sparks through you, pushing you higher, and you clenched around him rhythmically, making his eyes flutter shut as he fought to hold back.
“Can’t– mmgh! It’s too much. ‘M sorry!” His begging was constant now, thrusts growing erratic, cock swelling inside you as he teetered on the edge.
The combination of his fingers on your clit, the fullness of his cock stretching you, and the intimate mess of chocolate and sweat between you finally tipped you over.
Pleasure crashed through you, walls fluttering wildly around him as you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.
That was all he needed. With a broken whimper, Choso thrust up hard, burying himself deep as he came. Hot spurts of cum filled you, the sensation warm and overflowing, his cock pulsing with each release.
His eyes rolled back again, body shaking violently beneath you, thighs quivering as waves of ecstasy wracked him. “Thank you—oh god, thank you. S-So good..”
a/n: yes im aware im a day late no i dont care anyways enjoy this i actually wrote 2k words for choso no way!!
