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!!
Hey, so… can I have a lion!Sukuna being territorial and pushing the reader away from his space? But, since lions are social animals, he gets clingy pretty quickly. (My English isn’t very good, but I had to ask you that! I hope this isn’t too inconvenient)
heyhey!! your english is perfect, dont worry!
im a big fan of this idea heh. i dont know if you'd rather fluff or smut, but im gonna lean towards fluff for now unless you leave another ask or comment otherwise!!
── synopsis .✦ your boyfriend, yuji itadori, decides to come home from his lectures to distract you and disturb your alone time! you try your best to ignore his advances, but he wont back down that easily and wont stop until he has your full attention!
── contains .✦ aged up characters, modern!au, loner!gf (although i dont think i mentioned it directly) smut with little plot, p in v, doggystyle, overstimulation, praise kink, teasing, multiple orgasms, creampies, assplay, spitting, oral (f!recieving), fingering, fluff for a little bit, yuji is secretly a freak, mdni!
── word count .✦ 3.1k!
this fic goes with bf!yuji x loner!gf texts but you dont need it for context!
The door to your shared apartment clicks shut behind Yuji, the faint echo of his sneakers being kicked off in the entryway filtering through the quiet space.
It’s late afternoon, the golden light of the sun slanting through the half-drawn blinds of your bedroom window, casting warm stripes across the rumpled sheets.
You’ve been home all day, curled up in your little world as usual – your tendencies keeping you tucked away from the bustle of campus life.
The bed is your sanctuary, and right now, you’re sprawled on your stomach, legs kicked out lazily behind you, scrolling through your phone with one hand propping up your chin.
The soft fabric of your oversized t-shirt rides up just a bit at your hips, exposing the waistband of your black leggings, and your panties peek out subtly beneath.
Yuji’s footsteps are light as he pads down the hallway, his backpack thumping softly against the wall when he drops it. You hear his voice before you see him, that familiar, upbeat tone cutting through the haze of your feed.
“Baby, I’m home!” He calls out, and there’s a grin in his words, like he’s already picturing the way you’ll look up at him with that shy smile you try to hide.
You glance over your shoulder just as he pushes the bedroom door open, his broad frame filling the doorway. His pink hair is a little tousled from the wind outside, his hoodie zipped halfway down to reveal the collar of his t-shirt clinging to his muscled chest.
Those warm brown eyes lock onto you immediately, lighting up with that effortless affection he always has for you.
“Missed you…” He whines, crossing the room in a few strides.
He doesn’t waste time; you feel the mattress dip under his weight as he climbs onto the bed behind you, his body heat radiating even before he touches you. Strong hands settle on your hips first, thumbs brushing the exposed skin there in slow, gentle circles.
“What’re you looking at? Anything good?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the back of your neck before forcefully making space for himself to watch whatever’s on your phone. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a tiny shiver down your spine that you hope he doesn’t notice.
You hum noncommittally, eyes flicking back to your phone screen. “Just… reels.” You mumble, trying to keep your voice steady.
It’s not that you don’t want him close – you always do, in your quiet way – but you’ve got this habit of playing it cool, especially when he comes home all energized from his lectures. Like if you act too eager, it’ll shatter the fragile bubble you’ve built around yourself.
Yuji chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he shifts his weight, settling fully over you now.
His thighs bracket your legs, his hips pressing lightly against your ass in a way that’s comforting rather than demanding – at least at first. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin again.
“Reels, huh? Better than my boring ethics class.” Another kiss, this one lingering a second longer, his mouth open just enough to let his tongue flick out teasingly against your earlobe.
You bite your lip, fingers tightening on your phone.
It’s innocent enough, these little affections he peppers you with, but you can feel the shift in him already: the way his hands slide up your sides, pushing your t-shirt higher.
“Yuji…” You start, but it comes out softer than you intend, almost a protest but not quite.
“What? Can’t I kiss my girlfriend hello?” He teases, his voice playful as he plants another kiss on your shoulder blade, then another lower down your spine.
His hands are warm, calloused from all those workouts he drags you to sometimes, and they knead gently at your lower back.
You arch just a fraction without meaning to, and he notices – of course he does. “See? You like it.”
You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it, and scroll faster on your phone.
“I’m busy.” You lie, but there’s no heat in it.
The truth is, your heart’s already picking up, a familiar warmth pooling low in your belly. But you won’t let him know that yet. Not when he’s in this mood, all playful and insistent.
He doesn’t push too hard at first, content to drape himself over you like a human blanket, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peers at your screen.
“Lemme see.” He insists, and you tilt the phone away just enough to make him laugh.
His kisses continue, though: soft, lazy ones along your arm, your side, the curve of your waist. Each one is light, almost chaste, but they build something in the air, a slow simmer that makes your skin tingle.
Minutes pass like this, the room quiet except for the occasional buzz of notifications and Yuji’s contented hums.
His body weight pins you gently, his cock half-hard already against your thigh through his jeans, but he doesn’t grind or demand. He’s just… there, warm and solid, his lips trailing lower now, down the dip of your spine.
When he reaches the hem of your t-shirt, he pauses, fingers hooking under it to lift it slowly.
“Lift up a sec, baby.” He murmurs, and you do, just enough for him to tug it up to your shoulder blades and off of you, exposing your back fully.
The kisses turn hotter then, his mouth open and wet against your skin. He licks a slow stripe up your spine, from the small of your back to your neck, and you gasp quietly, your phone screen blurring for a second.
“Yuji, that tickles!” You complain, but your voice wavers, and he knows.
“Does it?” He whispers, breath fanning over the damp trail he left. “Or does it feel good?”
Another kiss, this one sucking lightly at the base of your spine, his teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm.
His hands slide under you now, palms flat against your stomach, pulling you back against him ever so slightly. You can feel how much harder he’s gotten, the denim rough against your leggings, but he still takes his time, kissing along your ribs, your sides, like he’s mapping you out.
You try to focus on your phone – a video of some cat doing something stupid – but your thumb slips, pausing it midway.
Heat creeps up your neck, and you press your thighs together subtly, hoping he won’t notice the growing ache between them.
“You’re distracting me.” You say, aiming for casual, but it comes out breathy.
Yuji’s laugh is muffled against your skin. “Good. You deserve a break from all that scrolling.”
He shifts lower, his body sliding down yours until his face is level with your lower back. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to tilt them up a fraction.
Kisses pepper your skin there: soft, then firmer, his tongue dipping into the dimples above your ass. You feel exposed, even clothed, and your breath hitches when his lips brush the top of your leggings.
“What are you—” You begin, but the words die as he kisses lower, right over the curve of your ass cheek through the fabric.
It’s innocent on the surface, but the intent is clear now, his breath hot and deliberate. He nuzzles there, nose pressing against the seam, and you clench involuntarily, a spark of arousal shooting straight to your core.
“Just saying hi to the rest of you.” He claims, voice husky now.
His hands slide down your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh, and he kisses along the crease where your ass meets your thigh. Each press of his lips is slower, lingering, his teeth nipping lightly at the legging material.
You feel yourself getting wet, the dampness soaking into your panties, and you shift your hips, trying to play it off as adjusting your position.
But Yuji’s not fooled.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down just an inch, exposing the top of your panties.
“These look comfy.” He states casually, kissing the newly bared skin. “But I bet you’re even comfier without ‘em.” He pulls them lower, slow and teasing, until your ass is half-exposed, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver.
“Yuji…”
This time, your voice is a warning, but it’s weak, laced with the anticipation you can’t quite hide.
Your phone feels heavy in your hand, the screen forgotten as his mouth finds the curve of your cheek, sucking a light mark there.
He pauses, looking up at you with those puppy-dog eyes, all innocence. “What? You don’t want me to?”
But his hands don’t stop, tugging the leggings and panties down together now, inch by inch, until they’re pooled at your knees. Your pussy is exposed to the air, already slick and aching, and you feel his gaze on it like a physical touch.
You clutch your phone tighter, scrolling blindly now, pretending to read something. “I’m... fine like this.” You mutter, but your voice cracks, and your hips twitch when his fingers brush your inner thigh.
Yuji hums, unconvinced. "Yeah? Let’s see."
Without warning, he props you up: hands firm on your hips, lifting your ass into the air while your face stays pressed into the mattress. Face down, ass up, your knees spreading instinctively to balance.
The position is vulnerable, your pussy on full display, and you feel a flush of heat rush through you. But you keep your phone in hand, arm stretched out awkwardly, eyes glued to the screen as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“Look at you, all casual, hm?” He teases, his voice low and amused.
He settles between your legs, shoulders nudging your thighs wider. His breath ghosts over your folds, and you bite your lip hard to stifle the whimper building in your throat.
“Still scrolling?”
“Mhm,” you manage, but it’s strained, your thumb hovering uselessly over the screen.
He chuckles, and then his hands are on your ass, spreading your cheeks gently, thumbs pulling your lips apart. The cool air hits your clit, and you nearly drop the phone right then.
“Baby, you’re soaked already…” He coos, awe in his tone mixed with that playful edge. “All this from a few kisses?”
Before you can respond, his tongue flicks out – flat and slow – lapping from your entrance up to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke.
The sensation hits you like a wave, wet and hot, his tongue pressing firmly against your sensitive skin.
You gasp, fingers fumbling on your phone, but you force yourself to keep holding it, scrolling through nothing.
“Not—mmf!—not really!” You lie, voice muffled against the sheets.
He doesn’t buy it. His tongue circles your clit lazily, sucking it between his lips with a gentle pull that makes your toes curl.
“Liar.” He practically growls against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.
As he licks again, he’s slower this time, exploring every fold, dipping into your entrance to taste the slick gathering there.
His hands knead your ass, keeping you spread open for him, and he hums appreciatively. “Tastes so good, baby. Sweet like always.”
You try to focus – try to pretend – but it’s impossible.
Each lap of his tongue builds the pressure, coiling tight in your belly. He alternates between broad strokes and pointed flicks, sucking your clit until it throbs, then soothing it with slow circles.
Your phone slips from your fingers, landing on the mattress beside you with a thud, but you don’t care anymore.
“Y-Yuji... oh god!” You moan, the words slurring slightly as your body betrays you, hips pushing back into his mouth.
“There we go…” He praises, voice thick with satisfaction. “Knew you couldn’t pretend forever.”
He dives back in, tongue thrusting shallowly into you now, fucking you with it while his thumb rubs your clit in tight circles.
The dual sensation is overwhelming, your walls clenching around nothing, aching for more. He adds a finger, sliding it in easily with how wet you are, curling it just right to hit that spot inside you.
Your moans grow louder, slurred and broken. “F– Fuck! Yuji, please…”
In response, he groans against you, the sound rumbling through your core.
“That’s it, baby. Lemme hear you.”
His finger pumps steadily, tongue lashing your clit relentlessly, and the orgasm crashes over you without mercy.
Your body seizes, thighs trembling around his head, pussy pulsing around his finger as waves of pleasure rip through you.
You cry out, face burying deeper into the sheets, but he doesn’t stop: lapping at you through it, drawing out every shudder until you’re gasping, oversensitive.
When he finally pulls back, his chin glistens with your arousal, and he crawls up your body slowly, pressing kisses along your spine as he goes.
“Mmh, did so good f’me.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder. “How many more can I give you today?”
You whimper, still catching your breath, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.
His jeans are gone now – you hear the zipper, feel the bed shift – and then his cock is nudging against your entrance, hot and thick.
“Gonna fuck you now, baby.” He announces, voice rough with need. “You ready?”
“Uh-huh.” You breathe, and he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you around his girth.
It’s always like this with him: full, perfect, the way he fills you making your eyes flutter shut.
He bottoms out with a groan, hands gripping your hips. “So tight... fuck, you feel amazing.”
Starting slow, he pulled back almost all the way before sliding in again, deep and measured. Each thrust drags against your walls, the head of his cock bumping your cervix just enough to make you see stars.
You grab a pillow, hugging it to your chest, face pressing into it to muffle the moans spilling from your lips.
“Nnh, s’deep..!” You slur, but it’s half-hearted, your body already rocking back to meet him.
Yuji laughs breathlessly, leaning over you now, his chest to your back. One hand braces beside your head, the other sliding under to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple.
“A pillow? But I love your sounds, baby.”
Thrusting harder, he angles to hit that spot inside you, and your eyes roll back, a choked moan escaping despite the pillow.
He watches, mesmerized, his lips brushing your ear. “Look at you... eyes rolling like that. So pretty when you’re falling apart.”
The praise sends heat flooding through you, your pussy clenching around him. You fuck back weakly, ass pushing against his hips, chasing the friction.
“Yuji– feels s-so good…!” You moan, words slurring as the pleasure builds again, faster this time.
“Yeah? Keep doing that—haah, so pretty—fuck back on me, just like that.” Sitting back up, his free hand massages your ass: squeezing the flesh, then spreading your cheeks wide.
The new angle lets him see everything – his cock disappearing into your slick pussy, coated in your juices. “G– God, baby, look at how you take me. So greedy aren’t ’cha?”
You whine into the pillow, the exposure making you burn hotter, but you don’t stop: your hips circling weakly, grinding back onto him.
He’s relentless, thrusts picking up pace but still dragged out, each one pulling whimpers from you.
Then, suddenly, you feel something wet and warm – his spit landing right on your asshole, the shock making you jump and squeal, body tensing around his cock.
“Y– Yuji!” You gasp, half-scandalized, half-aroused, the sensation sending a jolt straight to your clit.
He groans, thrusting deeper at the clench. "Fuck, that was cute. Jumped so—hck!—high."
His thumb circles your asshole now, slick with his spit, pressing just the tip in teasingly.
“When are you gonna let me fuck you here, baby? Been thinking about it—hah, shit…—stretching this tight little hole.” You can practically hear the pout in his voice despite the building pleasure.
You’re too far gone, the words and the pressure pushing you toward the edge.
All you can manage is a high-pitched whine, slurred and desperate. “Nhah, Yu’... close…” Your body trembles, pussy fluttering around him.
He finds it hilarious, chuckling darkly even as his thrusts falter. “Can’t even answer? That’s adorable. Come on, baby, cum for me again.”
His hand slips around to rub your clit, fast and firm, and it’s over.
The orgasm hits harder than the first, ripping through you like fire, your walls spasming wildly around his cock. You scream into the pillow, eyes rolling back completely, body convulsing as overstimulation sets in, every nerve alight.
Yuji groans loud, the sound raw and broken. “Shit—fuck, that’s it... milking me so good.”
He doesn’t pull out, thrusting through your climax, chasing his own.
A few more deep pumps, and he buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he cums inside you – hot spurts filling you up, leaking out around him.
“Take it all... yeah, just like that.”
He collapses over you gently, both of you panting, his arms wrapping around your waist. But he’s not done—not by a long shot. As you come down, twitching from the overstimulation, he starts moving again, slow and shallow, his cock still hard inside you.
“One more?” He tries, kissing your neck. “You can do it, baby. So perfect for me.”
You whimper, slapping weakly at his thigh. “T-Too much..! Hold on…”
But he just pouts, catching your hand and kissing it.
“Please, pretty baby? Just one last time f’me?” And he builds it up again, slow and torturous, drawing out every sensation until you’re lost in it all over.
The afternoon stretches on like that, Yuji coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you: three, four, until you’re a boneless mess, slurring his name, weakly pushing back even as overstimulation makes you sob with pleasure.
He praises you through it all, his hands everywhere: teasing, massaging, spreading you open to watch himself ruin you.
By the time he finally stills, spilling inside you for the last time, the sun is dipping low, painting the room in oranges and pinks.
He pulls out slowly, cum dripping from your pussy, and flips you over gently, gathering you into his arms.
“You okay?” He asks softly, brushing hair from your face.
You nod, spent and sated, curling into his chest. “Yeah... love you.”
"Love you too, baby." And he holds you, the world outside forgotten in your little bubble.
a/n: yep okay here we go i definitely didnt stare at this for like 5 days figuring out how to write this. but i actually like this a lot heh
i was looking over my unfinished series shots and second chances (gojo), and the idea is good but the first chapter is so boring to me
whats more boring is a series rn.. i dont think im a big fan of writing them, which leads me onto my question: do i rewrite SASC as one big fic (with smut at the end, ofc), or accept my fate and write chapters? people on the taglist will still be tagged either way, i just dont think im a big fan of the way i started that fic..
