lia

20

[fangedyke]

thinking about making a girl cum without even fully undressing her is. quite fucking hot because like? slipping your hand under her panties? pushing them aside to fuck her?? taking off her panties but leaving her skirt or her dress on to fuck her??? or god even having her naked from the waist down but shes still wearing your shirt or your hoodie when she cums. fuck

[yenayaps]

stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!

[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]

Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.

“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.

“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”

“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”

“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.

And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.

“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, hike it up nice and high.”

“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.

He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

All rights reserved © 2026 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai and do not turn them into chat bots.

[cinna-creme]

getting so high and handsy with sero and you’re humping against his sweats like some cock hungry bunny and he’s leaning back, hands behind his head, lazy grin on his face while you grind against his cock. he rests a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close but doesn’t kiss you, lets your lips brush against his, chuckling at the noises that spill from your lips.

he starts jerking his hips up, smirking at the wet spot you’re leaving on the front of his sweats, the way your nipples are poking through your shirt and pressing into his chest as you scoot closer. he lets you rut against him faster, knowing you’re close with the way you’re trembling and then he stops your hips and you whine.

“hush bunny.”

he bucks his hips up and flips you over so he can grind his dick into your little shorts and kiss all over your neck while you fall apart under him.

[lxnarphase]

bakugo struggling to stay focused while he holds his phone in one hand, the other in your hair, practically petting you. that look in your eyes, the way you're looking up at him from the floor, between his legs...he can practically see hearts in your eyes and it's making him throb.

"hey, dude, are you listening?"

fuck. he almost forgot that kirishima is on the other line, completely unaware of everything he was said beforehand. "no, say it again, and clearer this time," he huffs, voice low and clearly peeved he couldn't give you his full attention.

who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is looking up at them with lidded eyes, drooling on their thigh while fucking herseld on a thick, ribbed dildo while cooing their name over and over again, promising she could wait until he got the rest of the incident information from kiri.

and yet, he was still struggling to listen, trying to remember the words he's saying before he tugs you a little bit harder than he means too, causing you to let out a cute little noise and fall forward right into his crotch, face pressed against his hard on.

and then you just have to be a dirty fucking slut and take a deep breath before moaning his name, licking a stripe right over his cock through his jeans.

"what the fuck, baby."

he doesn't give kiri a chance to question him, immediately hanging up before grabbing your head with both hands and grinding against your face. "you're so fucking nasty, you know that? dirty little slut getting off on huffing my dick through my jeans," he groans through gritted teeth, practically humping his dick against your lips. "'m gonna cum in my jeans like a loser, but you're gonna clean it up for me while you keep bouncing on that toy. then i'm gonna call kiri back and you're gonna be good and moan nice and loud so he knows why i'm distracted, got it?"

[purrtoru]

helping toji work out always gets a little distracting. . .

“c’mon, you gotta count, doll.”

toji’s lying flat on the floor, hands behind his head as he starts another set of crunches. you’re sitting comfortably on his hips to keep him in place, but you’re clearly not taking your job very seriously.

every time he sits up, instead of calling out the next number, you lean in and give him a quick kiss.

“that was… um…” you mumble, tapping your chin like you’re actually thinking. “three? no… wait— four?”

he comes up again— another kiss.

“you forgot already?” he says, clicking his tongue after.

“…maybe.”

another crunch. another kiss.

he smirks, finally catching on.

“you’re not even trying to help me work out here.”

“i am!”

“nice try.” he raises a brow. “you’ve had me on the same rep for two minutes.”

you try your hardest to look innocent, but the smile on your face gives you away.

“i just keep losing count..”

“mhm.”

he comes up again, stopping just inches from your face before you can steal another kiss.

“if you want a kiss,” he says, that smug grin spreading further across his face, “you just ask, hm?”

“but this is more fun..” you pout.

he sighs, but one hand settles on your waist.

“fine.”

this time, he leans in first, stealing a kiss before dropping back down.

“…now count for real.”

“one..” you start counting again.

he sits up again— you kiss him.

“…one,” you repeat.

toji just looks at you for a second before letting out a laugh.

“…we’re gonna be here all day, aren’t we?”

[ttakdoll]

꩜ – FRAT PRESIDENT SATORU GOJO (and the shy girl he's obsessed with!)

(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con

frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.

frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.

he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.

frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.

frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.

frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.

frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip balm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.

frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you). 

frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that nervous voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.

frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.

but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.

frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teaches you to spit in your own palm and wrap your hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact  — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”

frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.

“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”

frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”

“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? 

“am — am I doing okay, satoru?” 

frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.

“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.

the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.

frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.

“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.

frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”

frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—

your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.

frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure to memory. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick. 

“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”

frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

inspired by an anon request for a shy reader!!

[solilorenson]

filthy snake

[aeresha]

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 Sukuna Ryomen's ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ mumbling when he doesn't get his daily morning kisses .✦ ݁˖

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, golden stripes across the tatami mats. Usually, you would spend at least ten minutes entangled in Ryomen's suffocating, four-armed embrace, enduring his rough-textured skin and sleepy grunts. But today, you were late.

You slid out of the futon, throwing on a robe and tying your hair back in a rush. You didn’t notice the immediate shift in the room's energy—the way the heavy, oppressive aura of the King of Curses suddenly stirred.

As you paced around the kitchen island, frantically brewing coffee and packing a bag, a towering figure leaned against the doorframe.

Ryomen looked a mess.

His pink hair was completely wild, his yukata hung loosely off one broad shoulder, and all four of his eyes were narrowed into slits. He crossed his upper arms, while his lower arms rested on his hips.

Then, the mumbling started.

“...unbelievable,” he growled softly, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that still carried the weight of sleep. “Brat wakes up, doesn't say a word. Walks right past me like I'm some common curse in the streets. After everything I tolerate...”

You paused, holding a spoon. “Ryomen, did you say something?”

He didn't look at you.

Instead, he stared intently at a spot on the kitchen wall, his lower jaw shifting as he continued to mutter under his breath. “I should dismantle this entire house. The audacity. A thousand years ago, men bled out in the dirt just for a glimpse of my face, and here I am, being ignored for a cup of bean water. Truly pathetic.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

You set the spoon down and turned to face him fully. “Are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I don't throw tantrums, human,” he snapped, though his eyes finally flicked to yours, burning with mock irritation. “I state facts. You lack discipline. You lack respect.”

He took a slow, deliberate step into the kitchen, his massive frame completely eclipsing the light. He didn't stop until he was inches away from you, trapping you between his chest and the kitchen counter. His extra hands came down on either side of you, effectively pinning you in place.

“Well?” he murmured, leaning his face down. His upper eyes were squinted shut in a pout he would die before admitting to, while his lower eyes watched your mouth. “Are you going to fix your mistake, or do I have to remind you who rules this domain?”

You laughed softly, reaching up to cup his jaw.

His skin was warm, and the rough markings beneath your fingers felt familiar.

“Good morning, Ryomen,” you whispered.

You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Instantly, the tense lines of his shoulders relaxed. Before you could pull away, his upper hands caught the back of your head, deep-fruiting his fingers into your hair to prolong the kiss, turning it into something possessive and deep.

When he finally let you go, a smug, satisfied smirk had replaced his scowl.

“Hmph...” he grunted, turning on his heel to head toward the porch, his yukata trailing behind him. “See that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I won't be so lenient.”

© 2026 aeresha. All content is owned by @aeresha. Do not repost, edit, translate, or copy in any form across any platform.

[theorphicangel]

the intimacy of shaking a cigarette with sukuna or even better yet sukuna catching you stealing one from his packs because you've been so stressed lately and him lightly telling you off. acting as a hypocrite he'll be the one to light the stick as it hangs out of your mouth.

'you're not even inhaling properly' he mocks, watching as you cough.

'whatever.'

by the time you've stubbed out the cig sukuna makes the mental note to hide the rest of his packs from you. it's one thing for him to have this deadly habit but for some reason he'd never forgive himself if you were to pick up this habit. he doesn't know why, he's aware that you're an adult capable of making your own decisions but his guilt still builds up in the pit of his stomach. maybe it's because he knows that just like his packs of cigarettes that he's also not good for you as a lover

[hidingwhere]

༯ birthday sex with Gojo

Gojo Satoru didn’t believe in just one round during your birthday, no, he was a firm believer of making you have orgasms all day, sometimes not in the most appropriate places.

The day starts with his head in between your thighs, morning sun filtering through the curtains and casting a yellow glow over your boyfriend’s white hair. His long, slender fingers grip the skin of your thighs roughly as he dives into your sweet pussy, head rolling back as you moan and whimper above him.

The second time, it’s in the backseat of his car. You want to visit a garden centre on your birthday? Sure, as long as he can bounce you on his cock in a quiet area of the car park afterwards. You’re far too cock drunk to notice or even care if the car is rocking violently each time he slams you down onto his deliciously thick length.

The third time, two of his fingers are splitting you open in your friend’s bathroom. You should’ve known that Gojo would try this when you said your friends had invited you round for the afternoon with an open invitation for your boyfriend too.

“Satoru,” you begin breathlessly, legs involuntarily spreading wider. “Someone could hear.”

He presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin playfully. “Then let them. Let them see how well you’re being treated on your special day.”

You can’t contain your moan as his fingers plunge deeper, reaching that sweet spot that made your legs shake. “You’ve already-mm-treated me twice.”

“Not enough for me, baby. I won’t let you sleep until I’ve given you at least six orgasms today.”

You barely register his words as your eyes roll back, familiar feeling building in your lower stomach as you thrust helplessly against his palm.

The fourth time happens on the couch, right after getting home and unable to even get a word out before Gojo is pushing you down, fingers already straying to your underwear. Somehow, you end up face down ass up, drooling over one of your favourite cushions as Satoru pounds into you again and again, causing the nastiest of moans to spill from your mouth.

The fifth and sixth orgasm happens during the same event, in a fancy restaurant. Apparently, Gojo had no awareness of his surroundings even in one of the most prestigious places possible. He apparently also thinks it’s funny to rub the sole of his shoe over your clothed pussy during dinner until you finish, hands gripping your cutlery in a desperate attempt to look composed. And then to top it all off, he fucks you again in his car, the passenger seat now, one hand firmly wrapped around your neck so you don’t accidentally turn your head and notice how everyone can see the two of you this time.

[cinna-creme]

a/n: i need ,,, this sry ovulation turned me into a cumslut 😣

“fuuuck babygirl.” katsuki holds your hair back. “just like that.. yeah..” his hips jerk up a little.

you’ve been sucking on him for a while now, he’s already cum but neither of you care, you want to keep sucking and he wants to keep cumming. you’re sloppy with it right now, spit and cum all over your lips as you press open mouth kisses down his shaft, staring up at him with nothing short of love and adoration. you swirl your tongue around his tip and swallow him back down.

“shit.” he groans.

the front door opens and his roommates walk in, denki lets out a groan that turns into a whine, sero pushes past him to get a better view and kiri pushes the three of them in so he can close the door. katsuki adjusts his hips, making you gag but you keep going unfazed.

“got an audience baby.” katsuki lets out a breathy chuckle.

“damn.” sero walks over to the couch to take in the side view. “swallowing you down real good.”

“she’s so good.” katsuki pats your cheek. “been at it for thirty minutes.”

“thirty?” kirishima’s eyes go wide.

“she’s doesn’t wanna stop.” katsuki’s thighs flex. “shit.”

“‘s yummy.” you murmur against his dick, blinking up at him. “more.” you whine, pumping him quickly, letting your mouth fall open, tongue lapping at his tip.

“fuckfuckfuuuuck.” thick ropes coat your tongue and mouth.

“damn that’s hot.” sero groans.

“i came.” denki pants.

“i wanna cum.” kiri’s voice cracks.

you glance at katsuki and he lets out a little laugh and nods, putting himself back in his sweats. you turn to kiri and reach up to the waistband of his shorts.

“whoa uh..? you sure?” he looks to you and katsuki.

“she wants to keep going and i’m spent.” katsuki shrugs, leaning back on the couch.

when you tug kiri’s shorts down you whine at how big he is, licking your lips still coated with cum before you wrap your fingers around him. you lick a slow stripe up from his base all the way to his tip, thighs squishing together when he moans. you suck his tip into your mouth, whining at his taste.

“she feel good, ei?” katsuki gives him a lazy grin.

“she’s fucking perfect.”

you hum at the praise and take him to the back of your throat. denki and sero collapse on the couch, pulling themselves out of their pants and start jerking in time with your movements on kirishima. you’re in heaven surrounded by all of them with their dicks out, mouth watering even more at the thought of them cumming and letting you lick their hands clean.

kiri fucks into your mouth, praising you the whole time as you gag and stare up at him. his stomach is flexing and coiling with pleasure, he wants to hold off but you’re too good. you whimper feeling him twitch in your mouth and move faster, nails digging into the back of his thighs and he fills your throat. you swallow down everything and pull off with a gasp and a crooked smile.

“they made a mess over here, babygirl. wanna clean em up?” katsuki tilts his head at you.

“mhmm.” you crawl over to the couch.

you lick at sero’s hand and cock, slurping down all of his cum before making your way over to denki. denki twitches back to life when you lick his dick, ready to cum for a third time already and all it takes is a swirl of your tongue around his tip and he’s coating your lips.

“that’s enough baby, c’mere.” katsuki tugs softly on your hair.

“need more.” you pant.

“c’mon.” he scoops you up and carries to off to his room ignoring his roommate’s as they call after you.

[sweethearticism]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇. ( ♡ 𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝚈𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙳!𝚂𝚄𝙺𝚄𝙽𝙰 𝚇 𝙵.𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 )

sukuna's convinced he'll never find a mate. he's tried it all, mate pairing programs, rehabilitation. no one wants him. who needs a bond anyway? he prefers the solitude. you're his last hope. an optimistic volunteer thrown at him by that pesky support program in hopes that he'll finally find a mate. will you be the one to show him that he doesn't really wanna be lonely? or will you throw him to the curb like everyone else? well, his rough exterior and unexpected rut truly puts you to the test.

♡ ﹕ 8.6k words

♡ ﹕ this was commissioned by @lycanqueen

꒰ 🍓 ⸰   ✦ 𝓒ws. hybrid au :: human!reader :: smut :: hurt/comfort :: mean!sukuna :: sweet!reader :: possessiveness :: pining :: hybrid ruts :: scenting :: marking :: oral ( f.receiving ) :: face-sitting :: p in v :: rough sex :: mating press :: multiple orgasms :: emotional sex :: overstimulation :: choking  :: breeding :: talks of cubs :: creampie ꒱

"Maybe they were right about you. You are a lost cause."

So this rehabilitation agent had guts? Sukuna would give him that much.

The sun pierced his eyes and slitted his pupils as he stared at the man before him, unshaken. Bold, for someone with noting but a flimsy clipboard for a weapon if Sukuna let his temper get the better of him.

He never had an issue with it before. So where were his claws?

"That mean I can finally do my own damn thing now?" He gruffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he propped against his doorway. He ignored his tail that hung low.

The man furrowed his brows. Sucked in a breath. Looked like he was searching for patience in the late afternoon air. His hand with the clipboard dropped as he stood straight.

"You don't get it, do you Ryomen?"

"What's there to get? That I can't play housecat for your domesticity programs?"

"Behavioural programs."

"That've made shit progress."

"It's not as if you make it any easier."

"Your potential mates bore me."

"You scared them off. Every one of them."

The man didn't need to match Sukuna's tone to scathe him. His face never broke clinical aloofness, even with each word loaded. Baggage of the ugly truth: that Ryomen Sukuna was a lost cause.

Countless mates. Five? Six? He lost track. He pretended to forget their names but he remembered every one.

The first left quietly. Said he was too loud.

The second left loudly. Said he was too quiet.

The third claimed she was frightened. The fourth didn't even give him a reason. Fifth and sixth were some ugly variation of all of the above.

Sukuna stopped caring.

He did care, at one point. That's why he let his coworker convince him to join this stupid 'hybrid nature rehabilitation program' in the first place, right? Because maybe tigers were too bold. Too frightening. Too much.

Too much. That's what the last one said.

Well, if he was too much for anyone, maybe they weren't enough for him.

The agent sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose and probably contemplating why he chose to work for a facility that boasted a 100% rehabilitation record. Guess Sukuna was about to ruin that too. As he did most things.

"Look," the man said. His shoulders slumped. "We do not typically give up on our patients, but surely you understand that we've tried everything in the book for you, right?"

Sukuna didn't reply.

"Behavioural therapy. Group counselling. Mate pairings and courses. You've chased away every volunteer and potential mate. Somehow even frightened off your therapist last month."

"She was weak."

"She was doing her job. You act like. . ."

Sukuna grunted. His claws threatening to lash out and tear up his own shirt. "What?" He knew the answer. Knew that sickening word that they all used for him. "An animal?"

The man didn't answer. Didn't have to. He sighed again and checked his clipboard. "This is your last shot for clearance."

"And if I don't pass?"

"You'll be escorted to a private facility."

Hybrids were monitored under lock and key by the state. Sukuna guessed he couldn't really blame them. They were different. Unpredictable.

Animals.

Sukuna regretted ever approaching the program in the first place. If he knew what he knew now— that he was simply built to be on his own, he would have swallowed the furball and bit his own tail. Lived out the rest of his life without the feeling of being watched.

Now, they knew he was unstable. Now, they considered him a threat. Guess his claws really were clipped.

"Thanks to your last stunt, none of the volunteers stepped up for this," the man said, flipping through his clipboard.

Sukuna huffed. "What's the point then? Just ship me off already." At least he'd get to be alone, then.

"Because miraculously, one of our assistants offered to help." The man looked up. "She's new. And your last shot." He handed over the clipboard with a small picture clipped at the top right.

That's the first time Sukuna saw you.

The second time he saw you, you smiled at him. Stupid move, really. For someone so small, so frail— so breakable.

"It's nice to meet you," he's sure you lied as you stuck out your hand. Chirpier than a bird hybrid. Bright eyed as a squirrel. Were they sure that you were human?

"Yeah. Hi." He gruffed, not reaching for your hand. It looked too gentle for him.

You dropped your arm to your side, still smiling, but softer. Before you trotted off to lug the rest of your belongings into his home.

He helped you, of course. Tiny thing like you probably would sprain her spine if she did it all by herself. Pathetic.

This was his last hope? They might as well cage him and ship him off already.

Within a week, he was sharing his space again. The few days of blissful solitude had come to an end. Now, there was a canvas in his living room. Pink body wash and products littered across his bathroom counter. Books from authors he couldn't even pronounce occupying his empty shelves.

You were sweeter than the three spoons of sugar you dumped in your strawberry tea every morning. Softer than the dinner rolls you insisted on making every Wednesday and Friday. Shy. Gentle.

Too gentle for someone like him.

In the beginning, Sukuna had watched you. Like a tiger stalked its prey. Scouring for the first sign of discomfort. A hint of fear. Even those who started off strong couldn't keep up the act for long. Not with him.

Which was what made it so odd.

You were timid, sure. But not afraid of him. Guess he'd give it some time.

Because that's simply his fate now, right? Watch a new volunteer skip into his lair and run off with their tail between their legs once he got too much. No one stayed. Not like they did with everyone else.

Others made hybrid bonding look easy. They'd join circles and find mates in the same week. Same night, even. Claiming it all as 'the right timing'. The right person.

Sukuna was a wrong person. Therefore, no right person would fit. Like an unwanted puzzle piece.

Not that he cared. He didn't need to fit in with anyone. If he was too much for any twisted jigsaw of companionship then he'd simply be the missing piece. A corner piece no one looked for. The one that made no difference to the puzzle. The one that no one needed.

He preferred being alone, anyway.

If this last ditch effort blew up in smoke, he guessed he'd have his wish. Whatever facility they'd stuff him into— at least he would be alone. It was better that way.

By himself, he didn't have to soften his tongue. By himself, he didn't have to pretend that he did not have stripes, claws and canines. Didn't have to soften himself for someone who wouldn't soften for him.

Didn't have to watch anyone leave when he became too much.

You didn't leave.

A week went by. Then two. Three, before he knew it. You rooted yourself into his floorboards like a flourishing flower and offered him the same sunny smile every morning.

"How'd you sleep, Sukuna?" You'd ask, as if you cared.

"Fine." He'd grumble from the coffee machine. The bitter stain on his tongue refused to ever let him return the question.

Why should he bother with someone who was going to sign him off anyway? Might as well show her what she was getting herself into. His poor behaviour and slacking social skills, as his therapist put it.

You never flinched. Humans sure were resilient.

But he was hybrid. And everyone knew that tigers were ruthless.

He wouldn't shroud his nature to make himself more palatable for you. For anyone, ever again.

It's odd. You actually tried.

You adapted your body clock to him. Sukuna woke up drearily early. To catch the dawn on his ears during his morning run. He supposed you started waking up shortly after him. Giving you enough time to ready breakfast for him when he stepped back through the door.

Eggs. Bacon. Any raw protein you could think of. You were unfortunately, a good cook.

"This isn't necessary," he said from the counter, but still wolfed down your perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs.

"Waking up early has its perks." You mused, sipping your tea. Probably strawberry. Or rose. He hated that he now knew your favourites.

You made his bed whenever he wasn't looking. He scolded you for it, the first few times. You insisted it was fine. That you liked cleaning up.

You tried to watch movies with him. Plopped beside him on the sofa and struck him your signature smile.

"Wanna watch something?" You asked, soft. Already dangling the remote. Sukuna couldn't help but compare the size of your hand to his.

He scoffed. "What? Some romcom?"

"Or horror." You bashed.

His instincts told him that a gentle soul like you wouldn't last ten seconds with a horror movie. Still, he indulged you. The last thing he wanted was to endure some stupid hybrid hallmark film.

A slasher flick. He didn't pay attention to the name. All he knew was that you quivered halfway through it and that stirred an urge in his gut.

Urge to what? Now that, he once again had no answers to.

It was warm. Low. The same way he felt when kids dropped their ice creams and mothers tripped in grocery stores. He couldn't name it. But he did drape his arm over the back of the couch. Not grazing your shoulders but, there.

You'd probably have nightmares tonight. Silly girl. Now he would be obligated to return the favour.

Because you did, a few nights ago. When he tossed and turned. Creased his sheets and slashed his blankets. Sukuna wasn't one to dream— but he did have nightmares.

About the darkness. About the cold. About a void that for some, unfathomable reason, unsettled him.

"It's okay, shh." Your voice reached out to him through the shadow. Light against the darkness.

"It's okay. I'm here. Wake up, please."

You were luck he hadn't broken your arm.

His grip was too tight. Claws too wretched. Not lucid enough to realise that he snatched your wrist when he had woken up.

"Get out." His voice rumbled. Eyes bloodshot and pupils tight. Sweat burned his forehead.

It must have not sounded like a threat, or maybe it was your stupid human resilience. You leaned over him. One knee on his bed and your hand ghosting his shoulder.

"You're freezing," you whispered.

He jerked from you. Rolled over onto his side and refused to allow himself to be vulnerable under your gentle gaze.

"I'm fine." He said.

You insisted. Are you sure? — Can I get you anything? — All the things that people said to catch you off guard and then left anyway.

"I said I'm fine."

His voice boomed, final. It was the first time he'd seen you flinch. He did not bother calling out for you as you shuffled out of the room. Assumed your bags would be packed by the morning. Your pink body wash nowhere to be seen on his counters and your books vanished from his shelves.

You didn't leave. Here you were, a few days later, with shaky knees and a horror movie. But insisting that you were enjoying it for his sake.

You never turned tail. Never backed down. Maybe it was more than human resilience. Maybe it was stubbornness.

That's the only thing that made sense to him. Why else hadn't you disappeared regardless of how much steam he'd blown at you? Especially when he was too much.

"Let's get one thing straight."

You had said something stupid one day in the kitchen. Something about being there for him. Some empty promise he had heard mixed and minced several different ways until it lost all meaning.

As if his mood was not sour enough.

Your back pressed into the fridge. His strong forearm shoved above your head. Sukuna's hulking body shadowed yours. Perhaps this was it. Where you finally became apart of that void that haunted his dreams.

"You and I. Are not. Compatible." His ears pinned back to his head. Tail coiled tight. Like his jaw and teeth that clenched.

Still, you held his stare. Even when it burned.

"Not a thing. Not. Possible." He spat. "So stop acting like you aren't just gonna sign me off so I can be caged up."

"I'm not—"

"I want you to."

He cut you off. Sharp as his heave as he craned closer. Close enough to smell your cherry shampoo— but not a hint of fear.

What was wrong with you?

"I want you to sign me off. So that we can stop pretending like any of this is gonna work and that I'm anything but better off alone."

The fridge rattled as he shoved himself off. He expected your knees to shake. Expected you to clamber out of the kitchen and stuff whatever you could into a suitcase for the night.

Instead, you watched him storm off. With those same, achingly gentle eyes.

Why were you so gentle?

Why did you stay?

Why did he find himself being gentler, too?

Of course, Sukuna didn't want to snap at you. You were simply the closest thing. The softest thing. His hands weren't built to cherish the tender.

Yet, tender were his hands, as they cooked for you. If you handled breakfast, it was only fair that dinner was his responsibility. Even if all he exchanged with you were grunts and gruffs, as long as you went to bed full, he was content.

Content? Odd. That wasn't a word in his vocabulary anymore.

His voice dangered tender's territory on nights you'd be out. Work, friends, whatever he never bothered listening to but for some reason found himself worrying over when the street lights switched on.

"Do you need a lift back?" He asked into the phone. Taking note to look uninterested, even if you couldn't see him.

"I should be fine, Sukuna." You chirped.

"You sure? It's almost midnight."

"I'm sure! What's the worst that could happen?"

To a sweet thing like you? A lot. More than he'd like to imagine.

Morals, he told himself. He pulled up in the middle of the morning to pick you up because of his pesky morals.

"Sorry you had to come all this way," you said as you shut the passenger door.

Sukuna considered your dress. Hated himself for it.

"What?" His tongue clicked. "Were you expecting to walk all the way back?"

"What's the worst that could—"

"A lot."

It wasn't like the other times. His voice raised, but didn't roar. His brows narrowed, but didn't glare.

The car ride was silent.

Your smile was sickening.

Cute.

He watched you closer. Not as a tiger stalked prey. Not anymore. He couldn't name this.

He refused to call it gentle.

Even when he carefully observed the way you fixed your hair every morning. How he noted which of your curves that the sun bounced odd of. The soft plush of your body and how your thighs moulded into the couch cushions, or rounded perfectly in your shorts.

Never had he been one to appreciate art— though he stood in front of your canvases and stared at your paint patterns. Swirls of green and blotches of warmth. Illustrations of nature: jungles and wild flowers.

It called to something within him. He assumed his hybrid traits. A tiger yearned for jungle, that was his home.

Home.

Sukuna didn't have a home.

He had a house. He had you. Had pink body wash on his counters and books he'd learnt the names of on his shelves. Had a warm meal every morning and a warmer bed you still insisted on making.

He had movie nights. A running partner. Someone who finally rooted her heels to the floorboards and blossomed in his walls. Stubborn as she was shy.

But not a home.

It was only a matter of time. Until he said something that finally was the thing. Until he'd wake up to your paintings missing, and your shampoo gone. He'd come home to no protein, but a sheet of paper:

I've signed you off. Good riddance.

You told him that you wouldn't, after he insisted it that night in the kitchen.

You padded to doorway of his room, picking at your sleeves with a petal-soft voice.

"All we have to do is clear you for rehabilitation," you said.

Not once did your eyes meet his.

"Then what? I can finally be alone?" He asked, incredulous.

You nodded.

It's what he wanted. What he claimed to want. So why was your agreement a sharp pang between his ribs?

That was then. He assumed your plans hadn't changed much. A silent agreement that if he behaved, you'd leave him be by the end of it all.

That's why he was gentler, he told himself.

Just trying to ensure his goals, he insisted.

For now, he would take care of you as you did him. Whether conscious or not. If it meant that when it was through, he'd get what was best for him.

Solitude.

But if solitude was what he wanted, why did he hate seeing you in others' company?

It was late. Emergency work call. He missed his afternoon cat nap and only scuffed down half of his breakfast.

The sun peeped at him from its sprawl across the horizon. Glaring into the back of his head as he stalked home. Burning him hotter. Hot.

He felt so. Fucking. Hot.

It wasn't even summer yet. Spring had only perked its preppy head. The blossoms bloomed. Their nectar tickled his nose. Couples gifted their flowers.

Sukuna hated spring.

He hoped you hadn't cooked dinner yet. That was his job. His responsibility.

But no, you were outside. Prattling to a neighbour.

All smiles and soft. Cupping your hands in front of you as you listened to the man's stories. The irritable snow leopard that lived next door. With his baby blue eyes and boyish grin.

What were you even doing outside in the first place? Didn't he tell you it was dangerous once the street lights started switching on?

Sukuna did what he did best. He watched. Looming by the telephone wire. Feeling the sun stab into his head. His spine. Feeling the heat gurgle from his gut. Splutter up his lungs. Against the back of his teeth.

That spotted fucker touched your arm.

Sukuna scathed.

Blurred colours. A muffled yelp. His claw caught on your woolly sweater as he snatched your arm.

"Sukuna—!"

Your gasp drowned in the rumble of his growl. Grated from the back of his throat. The leopard backed off. Your muscles tensed under his calloused fingers.

"Inside. Now."

He didn't wait for you to agree nor disagree. Dragging you inside and rattling the walls as the door clattered! shut.

"Su—" he lodged your voice in your throat once more. Shoved your back into the nearest thing— the same splintering door.

Was it hotter inside? Or was that the anger?

A sweat drop sweltered between his brows.

"What the hell were you doing?" As if he had any right to ask. You weren't his mate.

Mate? Of course you weren't his mate.

Then why did his teeth crave to sink into your flesh? Mark you?

His stare hazed. Blinking rapidly. Heaving. The heat blistered into his nerves. Clenched his muscles. Suffocating. It was suffocating.

"Why were you. With him. Why—" he zeroed in. Mistake. Big mistake.

Your scent.

You weren't his mate. Why the hell did you smell like it, then?

Did you always smell this good?

Your gaped at him. Hands stiff on your sides and pressed flat into the wood. Your neck craned to account for the height difference. Were you watching him this time? Was he too much?

His eyes squeezed shut.

"Sukuna," you spoke. His name didn't deserve that gentleness. It ached him deeper today.

"I think you're. . ."

Snapping open his stare, he sucked in breath. Considered your words. The phrase your lips wrapped around.

Rut.

Shit.

He shoved himself away from the door. Away from you. The fire crawled up his throat. Thunked his heart. Thrummed a deep, dark chord in his gut.

The sweat slipping down his spine in the middle of spring confirmed it. He was in rut. With a poor, persistent, pretty human in claw's reach.

"Hey— hey it's okay," you attempted, stepping forward where he stumbled back.

"Don't."

He hissed.

You preserved.

Stubborn. Stubborn, sweet thing.

"Let me help." You offered.

"No."

He tried. Tried to stumble off. Lock himself in his room. He could hump the mattress for all he cared but he wasn't so much as touching—

You took him by the wrist. Might as well have taken his soul while you were at it.

Splintered his restraint.

The door rattled again. Creaked awfully with the weight of him. On you. The thickness of the air. The heat. Your wrists fit well in his big hands. Looked like they belonged there.

You looked like you belonged here. Pinned under him.

His chest heaved. Voice jagged, throaty.

"You don't know what you're getting into." He said.

You gulped. He paid too much attention to your throat. "I did when I signed up for this."

"Do you even know what a rut is?"

"I know you can't be alone right now."

Sukuna's breath hitched.

You relaxed your hips. Let them mould into his. Their plush softness drove him wild.

Lashes hung over deep maroons. The quiet thrummed with your heart beats. His, thundering and wanting. Yours, tender yet eager.

He craned closer. Tuffs of his pink hair tickled your forehead.

"I can do awful things to you." He whispered.

Still no flinches. You never did.

Your eyes batted at him.

"Is that so bad?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

Even the kiss, burned.

Your lips really were petal-soft. Softer than he had imagined. He hated himself for imagining this in the first place.

The knot in his gut wound tight. Urging him to flush you further into the wood. Flush further into you. Patience slipped into the simmer between your mouths. Sukuna kissed you with violence. Nothing contained. Nothing hidden.

He told you that he wouldn't placate himself for you.

Abandoning your wrists, his grip sought your plush. Squeezing your thighs between his fingers gaps. Lifting you into his arms so that your heels pressed into his back. So that he could consume you. Tongues tangling and teeth tackling.

Your hands smacked at his shoulder. Breaths huffed through your nose. A desperate sound that plunged him deeper into heat.

He let you breathe. Barely.

"I can be good for you." Was what you used the privilege to gasp.

His chest rumbled. "Yeah?"

The slope of your throat was so pretty when you gulped.

Sukuna slipped a hand to your cheek. Rough. He couldn't be gentle. Not with you. Not now.

"Gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"

Eyes blown out. Jaw tight. If you said anything other than your whined little yes as his hips ground into yours, he might have lost his mind entirely.

His mouth attacked yours again. Sucking on whatever was left of your lychee lipgloss. Surely bruising your lips in the process. He didn't care. Let him mark you. Everywhere. So that stupid snow leopards didn't get the wrong idea. So that everyone knew what you were.

His.

The home blurred into vertigo colours. The floors creaked under the weight of his footsteps. Sukuna hoisted you with him. Haphazardly avoiding furniture in the stagger to his bedroom. Hands palming at whatever part of your flesh he could reach.

He almost stumbled in the hallway. Caught you against the doorway, one of your hands gripped at it while the other clutched the back of his neck. Fisted his hair between your fingers.

"Sukuna, careful." You whined.

He didn't listen. Too busy humping on your thighs that squished perfectly between his hard body and the cold door. Nurturing his bulge. Tucking its hot curve into the smooth crux of your skin.

"Said you'd be good for me." His growl rumbled on your pulse. Teeth mapping out his new territory: your velvet flesh. "So shut up and take it. Like a good girl, yeah?"

The door swung open. You must have palmed the handle. Feet fumbled in a clumsy waltz. Hands clinging for dear life. He caught you. Kept you pressed against his blazing body as he mouthed down your throat. Latched onto a tender spot. Marked you.

Sukuna handled his ruts the way he handled everything else: alone. His hand, a pillow, and a grotesque amount of tissue boxes. When last had he felt the soft touch of a partner? Held their warmth beneath him while his mind drove him wild with fire?

He was always too much. Too much to handle. Too aggressive. Too big.

But you.

You seemed to want everything.

In the way your nails curled on his shirt. In the pitiful way your neck arched to give him more access. Offering yourself up to him. A pretty deer who craved a tiger's claws in her. His maw latched to your throat.

"You're so eager," he groaned.

You whimpered, "I'm yours."

Fuck.

The mattress sunk. Creaking in retort to the callousness of his shove. Your body moulded into his sheets. Into him, as he staggered over you. Knees digging into the bed. Teeth clamped on the base of your throat.

You jerked. A gasped cry vibrating against his teeth. Palms knocking into his shoulders. To push him off?

No— to grip. Cling. To him. To your mate.

After all, you were his now, weren't you?

Bites bloomed across your neck. Over your collarbone. Down your shoulders. Your clothes threading like ribbons under Sukuna's claws. The sound of fabric tearing accentuated the rough pants and pitched whines in the humid air.

He wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you what a good girl you were being for him. Wanted to grunt into your skin about how perfect you were. Tell you that you were everything he'd been waiting for.

The words lodged in his throat. Sticky on the back of his tongue that could only muster out wet pants and deep growls as he feasted on your flesh.

Every inch of your skin revealed to him was another blessing. Your curves. The dips. The soft slopes of your body. Salivated him all the more.

Your bra never stood a chance. Clawed away. Probably ruined at the wire. He didn't care. He'd buy you a new one. Buy you whatever you wanted if you were gonna carry his cubs.

Cubs.

The word slipped into his mind with ease, and ruined it.

Pupils blown out. Lungs clenching. He made the mistake of eyeing your tummy.

Perfect, round, soft. You'd be the perfect mate. The perfect mother for his young.

The thought spurred his hands rougher. Tearing away offensive fabrics until you were laid completely bare before him. With big, doe eyes batting up at him. So pretty. So his.

From the corner of his eye he spotted your hands slipping. To cover up. Cover what was his. Your wrists were snatched in his hard grip.

"Don't," he warned. Lips assaulting yours. Stealing your breath and tonguing on your whimpers.

"Don't hide what's mine."

Your tits were softer under his tastebuds. Delicate to the harsh swirls of his tongue. So small when compared to his mouth that sought to consume, to claim.

Sweet sounds sighed from your kiss-bitten lips. Your spine curved so that you pressed back into him. Squishing your plush breasts into his face. His groan rumbled into the flesh.

So tender it was maddening. So perfect it was addicting.

Kisses, sucks, bites. He littered your tits in more claims. Feasting on your silk flesh. Fantasising about the image of them larger. Fat and swollen with milk— just as you were round with his cubs.

His cock strained thick in his pants. Flushed hot on your inner thigh. He ground into your warmth. Rutting wildly. Like the animal he always was.

Your hands delving into his hair almost broke him. Almost. He withdrew from your chest. Eyes glowing through the dark as he found your face.

"Taste so good. So sweet." A hand roughed down your side. Cupped your thigh and strung it round his waist.

"Up."

Raw strength scooped you into his palms. Flesh spilling between the gaps of his fingers as he squeezed for good measure.

Your little squeaks were so cute.

Teeth dragged on your flesh. Callous over bites sunk into your gentle flesh. He lapped on the indents of his own canines as he wrest you over him. Shoved your thighs higher. Urging you. Demanding.

"Face. Now. Fucking sit on my face."

Senseless. Each word was a growl. It's a miracle you understood him at all. Maybe you always would. That's how mates were, right?

The cotton of your panties dragged on his collarbone. Frantic eyes darted to your face as your hips locked. Unmoving.

Stubborn little human.

"What?" He husked. Scuffling to shove you over his awaiting face. "I said sit."

Your lips pressed together. Hands scrambling for the headboard. "Wait are you— are you sure? I'm—"

"—driving me mad." He hissed through clenched teeth. The throbbing in his groin pulsed the sickening heat hotter. Seared into the back of his skull. To his hands that groped your ass. To his eyes that narrowed.

"Said I wanna taste you. So get. On."

Was that too much?

Was he too much for you?

No, course not. You wanted to be his good girl. He saw it in your doe eyes batting at him. In the quiver of your lip and the tremors of your thighs. You shuffled over him. Pressing the cusp of your panties against his chin.

"Like this?" You meeked.

"Like this."

Sukuna tugged you over him. Knocking your thighs. You stumbled. Caught yourself with shaky fingers in his hair and an adorable yelp.

The musked cotton scrunched into his nose, his mouth, the rest of his hard face. Stuffing his nostrils with the sweet, intoxicating aroma. His eyes threatened to roll back.

A muffled curse rumbled into your heat. First came his tongue. Abrasive like everything else about him. Lapping on your folds. Drenching the fabric. Trying to suck in your taste through it.

Then came his teeth. Impatient. Tearing into your panties. His head wrest, violent. Claws ripping away the cloth in a feral affair.

Your sweet heat was his reward. Slicking up his face with your clit pressed into his nose.

"Fuck," his groan thrummed. Straight into your velvet. Leaking your pussy into his agitated mouth. "Knew you'd taste s'fucking sweet."

Hands slipped up your thighs. Cupped your ass. Sukuna sought to press kisses to your quivering slit— but you dangled above him. Not pressed, not sat. Hovered.

"Said. Fucking sit."

He hauled you into him. Cramped your thighs into his head. Smothered your pussy into his face. Even with his ears muffled by your plush, he heard your stunned gasp.

The weight was perfect on his head. Your hands were perfect in his hair. Pussy pretty, pulsing, perfect, on his tongue that stroked over your slit. Lathered you in saliva. All the way to your clit.

He darted the muscle. Circled on your bud. Trying to commit to a rhythm. A pattern. It scathed into the heat of his rut. The heat to take, to claim. To make you his. Finally.

Even if you hated him after this.

Even if you signed him off and he finally got what he wanted. Solitude.

Right now, all he wanted was your pussy.

Filthy squirts and sloshes squelched through the room. Brimming the hazed air together with your whines. Moans. Gasps of his name.

He always hated how gently you said it. Like it meant something. Like it ever could mean something. Hearing it broken sounded better. Shaky and whimpered as he fucked you on his tongue.

"S-Suk— kuna, ah."

Sweet. So sweet. Sweeter than he ever deserved. But Sukuna was a greedy man. So he gripped on your thighs, bit his nails into your flesh, and feasted to his heart's content.

"There ya go. C'mon, pretty girl, ride my face."

Spank! went his hand. Clamouring your ass and fisting the jiggles. Pulling you down, harder, closer— till he was suffocating. Suckling on your clit. Guiding your hips into a sinful sway.

Your hips fell into rhythm. Atta girl. Always so sweet for him. Always so obedient. Yeah, if you stayed, you'd make the perfect mate.

He hoped you stayed.

He could make you stay.

Keep you in his bed. Make a den for you. Hold you down and fuck you into his sheets day-in-and-day-out. Fill you up until your tummy grew even rounder. Softer. Until you were swollen. Until you were his.

No. Fuck. That's the rut talking.

The rut talking.

It's the rut that had him palming your ass and squeezing you into his face. The rut that had his mouth kissing, sucking, licking and laving through your creamy mess. The rut that had him fucking you on his tongue and bucking his hip into the air just as yours ground down into his face. Smearing mess all over him.

Yeah. That's the rut. But fuck, if he wasn't drunk on your pathetic moans. Your messy pussy.

Your clit spasmed under the flat of his harassing tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head. Fingers dug into his skull. Even your pain was sweet.

"Shit— kuna." Your voice croaked. Called to him as a mate should. "I'm gonna, fuck. Think 'm gonna. . . gonna—"

His eyes fluttered. Throat rasped.

"Gonna cum? Yeah? Gonna cum, hah, all over my face?"

From between the small gap of your thigh, Sukuna witnessed your face. Eyes rolled back. Jaw slack. Tits bouncing as you rode his face as if he was yours.

He was.

In this moment. In these blurred lines of his rut. Where he pictured you as his mate. Entertained the thought of wanting. Of being wanted. Of not being alone.

He was yours. Even if for a moment.

You sung his name through the haze. Tender even when he ripped you apart at the seams. Delicate even in his claws that threatened to tear into you. Mark you with scars and blood.

Your hips clumsily rocked. Once—twice—locked up in feverish tremors. Your hands bunching his hair. Clinging. Your body hunched over his. Shattering.

Sukuna rode you through an orgasm with his lips latched around your clit. Sucking harsh on its throbs. Teething on its twitches.

You splattered his face in warmth. Sweet, sickening warmth that doused him deeper into his rut's clutches.

"That's it. There you go. Fuck. Prettiest fucking pussy," he slurred into your wetness. Tongue delving between your puffy folds. Lapping up your cum. Greedy.

You toppled over him. Breaths ragged. One hand clutched in his hair and the other on the headboard.

"Wanna— wanna help. Wanna." To his surprise you pulled on his hair. Interrupting his creamy kisses on your slit.

Stares met. His hot. Yours warm. Wanting.

"Wanna make you feel good too."

How pretty you were when you quivered. Lips glossed by drool and lashes soaked with tears. It ached a deep chamber in his heart.

"Wanna be good for me?" He panted.

Your nod was doeish. As everything else about you was. His delicate girl. So fragile in his hands.

He couldn't wait to break you.

The bed creaked again. You squeaked as he hauled you down into the wrinkled sheets. On your back with his hulking weight pressing down on you. His mouth fixed to yours. Magnetic. Addicted. Letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"That mean you gonna let me breed you too, baby?" Catching your lip between his teeth, he grunted. Pressing the swell of his cock between your legs. Staining his crotch in your slick. "Gonna let me breed this sweet pussy?"

Your response was sweet, shy, but oh so eager. A tepid nod, as your fingers slipped to his shoulders. So small. Smaller than him in every way. He took the moment to appreciate it.

You, spread and waiting for him. Your pussy, swollen and twitching. His bulge pressed on your glistening folds dwarfed you entirely.

Oh, how you'd squirm on his cock.

At last he shrugged his shirt off. Shivered when your touch feathered over his chest. He made the mistake of watching your eyes. How they mapped out scars that your fingers traced.

You didn't have to say anything. Your gaze spelt affection he wasn't ready to receive.

"Don't stare at me like that." He gruffed, kicking off his pants.

"Why not?" You asked.

"Makes me think you want me."

"I do want you, kuna."

Damn you.

Damn you and your tenderness. Damn you and that sweet nickname your sugar lips latched onto. Damn you and the way you made his cock throb hard in the strained fabric of his boxers.

He palmed your throat. Focused on your pulse. The control he held over you in the moment.

"Shut up." His hiss muffled with a kiss. Hot and open-mouthed on yours. As if he could suck the words from your tongue and swallow them into his gut that knew better.

Knew that he was better off alone. That this was only for the sake of his rut.

Bulging and angry, his tip nudged between your thighs. Soaking up your arousal. The slippery sensation of your pussy sent shivers down his spine. So wet. For him. Only him.

He let you pull away. Watching as your gaze lowered to his thick cock sandwiched between your folds. Sliding against your slit and dragging on your clit. Your wide eyes eased a chuckle from him.

"What?" He drawled. "Too big?"

"Well. . . yes."

"And every inch's gonna fucking breed you."

He pinned you back into the mattress. Flat on your back with your knees scooped into his big hands. Dwarfed you there too. He pressed them back into you so that they kissed your tits. Folding you in half and completely exposing you entirely to his hungry eyes.

Salivating. He was salivating. Your eyes were too kind for how lewd your pussy spread out for him. Leaking a string of mess. Calling for him. Wanting him.

"Keep your eyes on me, you got that?" Maroon burned into yours. Searching for hesitance. For fear. For something that could cut into this feverish rut and remind him that he didn't deserve you. But no.

You obeyed him.

You wanted him.

His cockhead slotted against your slit. Dipping in to feel the silky sin of your pussy. A deep groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. His brows furrowed. Fuck. When last had he had this?

Blunt nails dug into the backs of your thighs as he sunk in. One inch. Two inch. Three inch. Four— popping through the first tight ring of resistance. Eyes devouring yours the entire time.

He watched your face. How it scrunched up and your mouth parted. How tears clouded your eyes as he pushed past the halfway point.

He stopped.

"You good?" He huffed. Barely gentle.

Very. Gentle.

"Yeah it's— just. . . just a lot." You croaked.

"Too much?"

His face didn't falter, but his heart sure did. His grip loosening on your limbs. Ready to let you go. Free you from him.

But you shook your head. Teary eyed. Twitching smile.

"Not enough."

Hips possessed. Mind a mess. He slammed forward at those two, pretty little words. Till his tip smooched your cervix and his balls squished into your folds. Bottomed out. Filling you to the brim.

The sound you made was sin itself. A blessing. Heaven, hell, and everything in between.

"Oh fuck." You cried, head tossed back. Unable to see him gasping out the same exclaim.

Your syrupy cunt hugged around him. Tight, snug. Nursing on an underside vein and milking him around the tip. Every pulse was your heartbeat, and it devastated him.

Cussing, he pushed down onto you. His heart tugging itself towards yours. To press into your skin as his hips started rutting. Slow, eager.

"Fuck. Look at you take this cock. Like you were born for it," his words husked above you.

Your lashes fluttered. Brows knitting at the centre. He watched your tears threaten to slip as he humped on the sensitive ring that was your cervix.

His tongue clicked. Swapping out a hand on your thigh, he snatched you beneath the jaw instead. Wrenching your face to his hot one.

"Didn't I say keep your eyes on me?"

"M sorry."

"Don't apologise, just take it."

He withdrew. Halfway at first— then shoved back in. The second time was further. And further. Until his thrusts pulled to the tip and plunged back to your womb. Languid, but hard. Sure to make you feel every inch of him pressing into your pussy nerves.

You soaked up his thighs. Splashing his balls and leaking a puddle into the sheets already. The scent was intoxicating. Flared his nostrils and dizzied his head.

The mattress shook beneath the power of his thrusts. Your body bounced with it. He made sure to coil his tail tight around your waist. Held you down like a predator did prey as he fucked you open on his cock.

Pleasure built a knot in his gut. Hot, heavy. Urging his hips to snap harder and chase bruises on your jiggling ass.

Every sound was sin. Sweet. Cries, moans, a whimper than surged into a whine of his name when he removed his other hand from your thigh to instead hold them back with a steeled forearm. So that his palm could press on the bulge swelling up the base of your tummy.

"Fuuckkk," he growled. Ears pinned back to his hair. Jaw hung and canines glinting. "Look at that. See that, pretty girl? What's here?"

You hiccuped, "your— ah. Your cock!"

"Yeah? What's it doing?"

"It's—"

You couldn't answer. Slurred by moans and the delicious drive of his dick stretching you out. He watched your eyes go static.

Spank! his palm landed hot on your clit. Bulging your eyes and jerking your hips up into his frantic thrusts. He laid another. Two. Three— encouraging your pitiful whimpers.

"Asked you a fucking question. What's it doing?"

"It's— hah. B. . . Breeed—"

"Breeding you? Yeah?"

"Uhuh! Breeding. Breeding me s-so . . . s'goood."

Drool bubbled on your lips. Your hands that had tried to scramble on his shoulders and dig your mark into his flesh now fell flat on the pillow. Beside your head. Limp like the rest of your body that surrendered itself to him.

Heat surged down his spine as you clamped around him. Sucking the air from his scathing lungs. Staining his base in a thick, filthy ring of cream.

His hips rammed all the more faster. Harder. Imprinting you into his bed. Your slick. Your sweat. Your scent.

One of your weak hands slipped down. Meeking over to his larger one fixed on your stomach. Wrapping around two of his massive fingers. Or at least trying to.

It strung a deep chord in him. Thin and vulnerable. One he has thought he cut out long ago.

His half slipped over yours. Fingers laced. Pressing you against the bulge he plunged into your tummy. Holding your hand. Holding it tight.

"Sweet pussy's milking me," his grunt fanned your pulse as he swooped down. Mouthing on your neck. Searching for your pulse to feel it race beneath his lips. "Fuck. Wants my cum so bad. Wants my cubs."

"Please!" You slurred.

He swore he could do this for life.

Shoving all the way, Sukuna paused on your cervix. Sweat dripping from his hair. Cock drumming heavy. He clamped you down through your protesting whines.

"Yeah, yeah, shut it." It didn't sound harsh. Especially not with his firm squeeze on your hand.

Slipping out just enough, he watched your juices spray all over him. Mesmerising him. He worked on autopilot. Bundling you into his arms and manhandling you into a different position.

Tossing you to your side, Sukuna slotted behind you. Hips spooning your ass. One strong arm hooked around your neck, choking you on his bicep. While the other strung around your thigh. Wrenching you open for him and his massive cock, that bullied back into your cunt. Squelching your cum and sick in messy streams.

Your angelic cries resonated into his bicep. Making him squeeze it harder against your throat. Headlocking you into his greedy mouth that sucked hickies across your neck.

The angle was deeper. Filthier. Letting him feel so much more of you.

How much smaller you were than him. How you squeezed him just right. How perfect you were in his arms.

Like you belonged.

Shit. Don't go there.

Sukuna tried to drown it out. The returning thought of you. A permanent fixture in his life. Your pink body wash on his counter, that was now his. Your books on his shelves that he could read to you. You, in his living room, painting.

Painting the jungle. Painting home. Being his home.

His cock pulsed hard at the base and sweltered at the tip. The knot in his stomach wound tight. But that thought— that thought gutted him.

That you were here. That you had been here. Warm, and sweet, and soft and for the last few weeks. His.

You could be his.

"No," he wanted it to sound like a grunt. But he whimpered. Panting, heaving, mind dizzy and thrusts frantic—

Sukuna was whimpering.

Your face was pressed into his bicep. Head limp and hand still trying to hold his that clutched your thigh. Still calling his name so sweetly.

"N-No?" You breathed.

Still attuned to him even when he was fucking your brains out.

"Don't want you to leave."

Oh.

Oh.

He hadn't realised that it slipped from his lips. Hadn't realised that through his brutal thrusts— he was breaking. Lost in the burning bliss, the heat, and the warmth of what could be.

Sukuna lost his fucking mind.

"Don't wanna— fuck. Don't wanna be alone." His face fell into your neck. Arms squeezing your body into his. Trying to melt your skin into his. Tuck himself into your warm flesh and the selfish wish you gave him.

Hazed, and hot, and so heavenly yours.

Slick hair pressed into your cheek. His body collapsed onto yours. Pounding his cock up into your creamy cunt. Chasing his blazing nerves as his mouth rambled.

"Don't want you to leave. Don't. Shit. Don't leave me, please, please don't fucking leave me."

His thrusts lost rhythm. As frantic as his rushed whispers. Plunging into your cervix. Bruising your thighs. Clutching you closer. As close as he could muster. As close as it would take to keep you here forever.

"Say you won't— say you," he slurred. Eyes squeezed shut. Words melting into a clumsy splutter of curses. "Say. Say you won't. Say—"

"Won't. Won't. 'kuna I won't— hngahh. Promise!"

That single word. So raw. So true. Choked in a gasp as you tried to nudge your face closer to him.

It shattered whatever pride he had left.

"You promise?"

He croaked. Dangerously hopeful.

You nodded. Cried.

"Promise. I promise S'kuna. Breed me— please."

He should have known you'd be trouble from the moment you first smiled at him.

Heat trapped him. Seeped into every nerve and spasming muscle. Ears drooped. Tail clinging around your waist, as his arms did every inch of you.

He held your hand.

The ache in his hips nulled to the sound of your sweet voice. Tucking promises away in his heart and sealing them with attempted kisses, even when he was choking you.

He felt your orgasm shake through you. Your body locking up as you babbled his name into the humidity. And with that Sukuna finally— finally let go.

Ramming his cock up one, final time. He stilled. Deep and thrumming within you. Heat bursting from his gut and washing over him in a devastating wave of blissful carnage.

Loud and wrecked, his moan vibrated into your back. Hips rocking in small stutters as spluttering, white ropes creamed your cervix. Pouring his thick cum into every inch of your twitching cunt. Brimming you with him and his promise.

"Fucking. . . fuck. . . hah. Take it. Take all this cum in your pretty pussy." Slurs dragged up your throat, to your ear as you face limped into his arm. His voice husked, a vow.

"Just feel me breeding you full. Filling you with my cubs."

You whined, meekly rocking back into him. But he snatched your hips and pressed it down into the mattress with a soft hush.

The throbbing at his base thrummed into swelling. His knot bloomed until it lodged stiff in your cunt. Pulsing with your pathetic little twitches.

He watched your eyes widen and brows furrow. Your body locked up and a whimper strained from your swollen lips. "Mmm. That's your—"

"Mhhm. Just stay still."

Laving his tongue over one of the bites, Sukuna held you near. Savouring your warmth.

The silence finally didn't feel like a void. Even if it was heavy.

He held onto the moment. Clung to its peace as the warmth simmered into cooling sweat on your flesh.

You broke the quiet first.

"Did you mean that?"

He didn't answer you. But his hand cupped your tummy. Fingers still laced in yours as his face tucked against the back of your shoulder.

". . . Was it too much?"

He never thought his voice could ache.

You tried to shift again, and despite the lump in his throat, he clicked his tongue. Squeezed your thigh in warning. "I said stay still, didn't I?"

"You're never too much. Not for me, Sukuna."

There you went, saying his name like it meant something.

Nudging your face to his, Sukuna licked at the tears on your face. A tender act he never thought himself capable of. "Don't say shit like that."

"That I want you? Or that I love you?"

His breath hitched.

Once the knot settled, he pulled out. Hesitantly— especially with your heat still clinging to him.

"You love me?" He muttered, laying a kiss on your cheek. Then to your jaw. To your shoulder. Down your body until you were on your back.

Calloused thumbs swept your folds back. Eyeing the lewd streak of cum leaking out of you.

His eyes found yours as you spoke, tender.

"Do you want me to say it again?" One of your hands raked into his hair.

His face nudged between your thighs. His hummed approval followed the flat of his tongue. Laving up your slit. Licking away the mess and holding your thighs open amidst their intense shivers.

Even as you whined. With your eyes on the brink of tears. They were still soft for him.

"I love you."

You shouldn't.

He shouldn't.

But he still said it back.

"My mate."

Low, and grumbled, not those three words but something that spelt a deeper bond. One he finally had.

After licking you clean, Sukuna bundled you up into the sheets. Pushing himself from the bed and returning with a warm towel and a water bottle.

He cradled the back of your head as he gave you the water.

Worshipped your flesh as he wiped you down. Tracing over bruises and bites. His mark.

And when you were finally tucked into his arms. Dozing off with your head nestled on his heart that now beat for you. His tail curled around your leg and his claws soft on your curves. Sukuna understood.

That his too much was just enough for you.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/pixopix | art cred: @/cakkezzz ( twt )

꒰ 🍓 ⸰  ✦ enjoyed this piece?   ꒱ consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!

[saetiate]

the princess demands you jack off in front of her. no she does not care if you feel shy. yes right now

[bearlovestea]

閻魔大王!Sukuna x dead!reader (Enma Daiō!Sukuna)

synopsis: Sukuna, as Enma Daiō—the king of hell and the judge of the deceased—who judges a cute ghost.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: smut 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart), reader is dead (mention of car accident), Sukuna's lovesick

a/n: inspired by Hozuki's Coolheadedness yayyy

“Next,” Sukuna lazily shouted, boredly watching the old excuse of a motherfucker being taken off for the rest of the judging process. The king of hell snickered to himself as he remembered the guy’s face pale when he sentenced the douchebag to be burned for eternity.

The majority of the dead that came over to his palace to be judged by him were elderly people, so imagine his surprise when the demon staffs brought in a cute girl, with pretty doe eyes and pouty lips, who even made the ugly white robe the dead have to wear look like a tantalisingly pretty night gown.

Sukuna’s pupils dilated black, his head swimming with dizziness as he stared at you, practically drooling as you cowered beneath his intense, crimson eyes. The sweat on his temple slowly glided down his sharp jaw, the weirdly humid yet also dry, hot environment of hell definitely the only reason why his body was feeling too hot in the skin.

“Um… hello?” your soft, delicate and pretty voice rang out across the hall timidly, not knowing whether the silence and his staring was a good thing.

Fuck, you sound so sweet, and looked so fucking adorable.

Blinking slowly, he straightened up slightly and gave you a lazy, cocky, and self-assured smirk. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

The smirk widened at the sight of your pretty blush, your flighty eyes lowered to the stone floor as you murmured gently, “I had a car accident…”

Sukuna hummed, brows furrowed in sympathy.

“Bad luck, huh?” he said, his voice a deep rumbling in his chest, fond and affectionate as he watched you squirm.

“Yeah… that sounds about right,” you agreed with a soft cute sigh, eyes heartwrenchingly dejected.

“My lord, shall we move on to her judge?” Uraume cleared their throat and looked down at the scroll of all of your records. 

This time, Sukuna fully straightened up with a nod, receiving the scroll with one of his four, meaty hands, noticing your eyes on them with a silent smirk.

Uraume started to list off very minor crimes you have done in your life, which all made Sukuna chuckle amusedly as he caught onto your embarrassed blush on your face. In the end, he judged you to go to heaven, chest warming as he saw your face relax and you sighed softly.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, bowing to him. So polite.

“Mm, of course,” Sukuna grinned. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

You were taken away by some of the guards, and his smirk widened, pupils dilating as he saw you glance back at him, smiling shyly. Once you were gone and the next dead person was just about to enter, Sukuna straightened up. 

“Uraume,” he said, voice booming as a grin curled on his lips. “Can you—”

“I fail to understand how that’s appropriate, my lord,” they replied with a sigh, rubbing their temple in their usual stress.

Sukuna raised a brow at them before scoffing. “Don’t argue with me. Get that girl out of the judging process.”

“Oh lord.”

༊·˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’re sprawled across the enormous, mahogany table, your white robe stripped away to reveal your skin, glistening with the humidity.

Sukuna softly cursed at how soft and small you looked underneath him, so delectable as he dove to the crook of your neck to lap at the small bead of sweat collected at your collarbone. His deep hum vibrated against your body, and a smile spread across his lips against your skin once he felt you shiver.

“Come on, doll. Let me make you feel good.”

Your doe eyes stared up at him as you nodded coyly from under your lashes, breathlessly replying, begging, “Yes please.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. Laying his large palm flat underneath your thigh, he lifted your leg to press them by your sides. Without any hesitation, he dove in between your legs, down to your pussy, his adam’s apple bopping as he slurped, swallowed and gulped down on your sweet juices. 

“Hahh, ngh—”

“Fuck, ‘m so thirty. You taste so good doll,” he groaned, pushing his nose against your clit, lapping at your juices desperately with insistent licks like a mutt. He let out a pathetic moan as your hands flew to his head, gripping at the pink strands of his hair to move it up and down, up and down to ride him better. “Hahh—”

His hot breath panted against your glistening folds, giving attention to your clit by slurping it, suckling at the adorable nub and flicking his tongue against it. Your moans got louder, sweeter, making his head incredibly dizzy and he couldn’t resist from pushing his thick knuckled finger into your puckering hole.

“Aghh, Sukuna—!” you gasped, eyes bulging out as you tried to squirm your thighs away, trying to wrap them around his head, only to feel his calloused hands insistently pushing harder against your chest, folding you easily.

“Yes, doll?” he snickered, pulling himself away from your pussy monetarily to look down at you, his chin slobbered with your slick—even the roots of his hair were damp, sticking to his forehead and temple. He mercilessly pumped his single finger inside your pussy, stretching your tight hole that tried to clamp down on him adorably.

“Please…” you begged, babbling his name darlingly as your thighs started to quake from how he started to flick and massage his finger tip against your wall.

“Please what?” he taunted. He pressed himself against you, his thickkkkk belly tongue lolling out to lap at your clit and your pussy around his finger to slobber with his spit. “Love your manners, sweetheart, but you gotta tell me what you want properly.”

“I—” You let out a surprised scream as he inserted a second finger inside your cute hole, pumping faster-faster-faster to slap his knuckles rudely against your swelling folds.

“Can’t, heh, hear you from all of the sound your pussy’s making,” he grinned. “So wet, sucking me in, so fucking greedy. Can you hear her begging my fingers to stay?”

Splat, splat, splat—

“At this point, I should just throw you to hell since your pussy’s so greedy and wants the king of hell to keep fucking her,” he laughed crudely, pussydrunk just from eating you out and fingering you, the sensation of your walls around his skin enough to have him reeling. “Or maybe to Samghata Hell, since you’re such a filthy slut…”

He added a third finger, swirling his thick digits inside your pussy.

“Gonna cum, cum-cumming!!”

“Mm, go ahead, doll,” he purred, cackling as he slammed his fingers roughly. Stars burst out behind your eyes as the tight coil of your belly finally being released, and you convulsed around his fingers, coming hard. Sukuna fucked you through it, helping you chase your climax, watching you with heart eyes as he saw your face contort in pleasure.

One of his other hands found your clit again to rub them generously, making you whine pathetically from the overstimulation. Pulling his fingers out of your pussy, he brought them to his pink lips to roughly suck on your juices collected at the crevices of his skin. His eyes rolled back, a deep hum rumbling from inside his chest as he tasted you. Noticing your hazy eyes staring up at him, he smirked and made a show of lapping at his fingertips—filthy. 

Pushing his spit covered fingers into your small mouth, his pupils dilated black as he watched you suckle on them, hollowing out your cheeks.

“Actually, nevermind,” he murmured, rudely taking his hand away from your mouth to roughly kiss your lips instead. A soft, delighted sigh whisked out of you as you kissed him back, suckling on his tongue, making his lips tugged into a satisfied smirk.

Tugging your lower lip with his teeth, Sukuna’s four, heavily lidded eyes watched your glassy look on your face, feeling your breathless pants against his lips as his thick belly tongue started to pump in and out, in and out inside your pussy. “T-Too much, ‘kuna, hahh…”

“Yeah? Well, I changed my mind,” he murmured fondly. “Should just hire you to sit prettily on the Mountain of Needles. Have those dead losers try to have their hands on you, have them hurt themselves as they desperately try to climb up those needles… Then”—At the same, Sukuna pushed his fingers back inside your hole, this time adding another fourth finger to fist out your tight little pussy, the schlick-schlick sound of your wet pussy echoing across the hall—“I’ll fuck you on top of the mountain, have those motherfuckers watch you take my cock like a good girl, stretching your pussy out for my fat cock like the slut you are. You like that?”

“Yes yes yes!” you whined, tossing your head back, clenching your walls around his fingers tantalisingly.

Fuuuck.

“So cute, doll. So sweet for me,” he purred, leaning in to kiss your jaw. His nose nuzzled against your neck, and the scent of your sweat and aroma hit his nostrils like a damn truck. His cock twitched and convulsed, feeling too tight in his pants.

“Fuck me baby,” he groaned, toppling his weight on top of you. His lips peppered the shell of your ear with soft kisses. “You ready for me to fuck you properly?”

“Mmm, fuck—! Yes please, please…” Your blabbers went on, slurred at the end of your vowels. “Want you so bad, please!!!”

“So fucking well-mannered. Such a cute little pup,” he cooed, licking your cheek with a slowwww glide of his tongue against your adorable fat. Sukuna giggles when he hears you laugh softly at the dog lick.

Slowly, he allowed himself to lift his weight off of you, heading down to kiss your neck, collarbone, then your tits, suckling your nipple while his other hand grips your other tit. Finally, he took his lips off of your skin and stood up to his full height.

You watched him through your hooded eyes in anticipation, the tip of your mouth collecting drool as he hooked his thumbs on his waistband, all the while two of his lower arms held your thighs open. As Sukuna tugged his pants down, your eyes widened as a pair of fat cocks sprung out and you reflexively tried to clamp your thighs shut, only to be met with his strong hands forcing your legs to open up more.

He smirked down at you cockily as you tried to squirm away from his grip. “What’s the matter, doll? Thought you’ll let me take care of you.”

“B-But… you have two?” you pouted, tears forming in your eyes, especially when Sukuna gave you a lazy shrug. “It won’t fit…” 

“Shhh, it will,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss just below your eye to wipe the tear away before grinning down at you. “Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about it.”

Sukuna bit his lower lip as he tapped-tapped-tapped his cock against your clit, swivering the tip against your nub, mesmerised by how his precum and your juices mixed together, seeing how your pussy drooled and trailed down to the sleek surface of the table. Two of his hands stroked his thick shaft, and he snickered as he saw you eye the veins on his arms.

Swiping his thumb on his slit, Sukuna shoved the finger into your drooling mouth, chuckling as you smiled around him to suck his pre.

“Heh, gotta have you suck my dick off under this desk,” he groaned. “Make the judging hours good for me…”

You hummed around his thumb, nodding eagerly.

“Next time,” he chuckled. Holding his lower dick, he teasingly glided it up and down your pussy lips, from down to your hole to up to your cute clit. Sukuna gripped your thighs tightly, bracing himself before he slowly sunk into your tight hole. “…Fuck.”

His tip smooched your opening before squeezing into your pussy, your gooey walls clamping and squeezing him tightly, making his eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth to part, panting.

“Ah— shit…” He pushed into your hole a little more, making you mewl and hands flying onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tough skin. A laugh rumbled out of him, crazed and hazy, as he started to rock his hips slowly. Every thrust pushed deeper into you, his thick veins massaging every nerve lovingly and his tip teasingly approaching closer to your cervix. His other two hands found your hip, his thumbs caressing your skin and fingers digging into your plush ass to pull you in, bottoming out.

A scream tore from you, the voice echoing and bouncing across the large hall, followed by the squelch-squelch of his balls slapping at the wetness of your skin.

“Ah, fuck-fuck-fugck—” Sukuna roughly slammed his hips against yours, growling with a boisterous laugh, watching your eyes roll back to your skull. “Feel good, yeah? You, agh, feel so good, doll. So, so good—”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you desperately pulled him closer, lips flushedly brushing against his chapped ones, panting against him, “Feels good, feels good, Sukuna. Don’t stop—!”

Bringing a hand down to your pussy, he stacked his other dick on top of your folds, pressing his girth on your clit. Your lips parted into a soft ‘oh’ as you felt his thick cock rub against your clit every time he thrusted his hips against your. Your nails raked down his back as you held onto him tightly, whining and moaning as you felt his weight crush on top of you from the mean mating press.

Sukuna tossed his head back, slapping his heavy balls against your ass as he roughly thrusted. Hooking your knees on his arms, he hugged you tightly, folding you impossibly tighter than it was possible before nuzzling his nose against your neck.

“Never fucked a pretty little dead ghost before, but… shitt, feels so good,” he rambled on, so so pussydrunk. “You’ll be my pretty girl, won’t you? Warm my bed for the night, we can bathe together in the night before we go to sleep. We’ll fuck every morning, lunch and night— heh, wonder if I can even knock you up…”

Sukuna felt your walls clench around his cock at that, making his cheeks flush bright pink, head dizzy and so fucking hazy. “You’ll like that, won’t you?”

You had the audacity to look shy at that after everything, cheeks prettily mirroring his blossoming hue, eyes darted away as you nodded bashfully. Sukuna felt his heart throb and race and without a thought, he pulled you against his chest and hauled you up. Kissing your cute yelp away with full on tongue and teeths, he had two of his hands cradle your face reverently then the other two to spread your legs more, holding you as he stood to his full height.

Now you truly couldn’t escape from the pleasure, because his fat tip was punishingly smacking your cervix, then that special spot that made your eyes roll and only see white, desperately gasping for air. 

Sukuna found it too adorable how you held onto him tightly, whining against his ear like an adorable little pup as he had you bounce on his chubby cock while his second one continued to rub against your clit roughly. You keened cried out when his belly tongue lolled out to lovingly lap at your clit around his cock as well.

“Hahh, I’m close, ‘kuna.”

“Then cum, sweetheart,” he moaned, picking up speed. “Cum on my cock.”

With a cry, you came undone, your body and pussy spasming around his cock. He settled you back on the cool mahogany table, weight crushing on top of you as he panted and kept pistoning into your pussy, chasing his high.

“Shit, shit, shit!"

With a loud grunt, he gave a final thrust, heaving in effort as he came inside, painting your walls in white.

"That was good,” he breathed heavily, peppering your jaw with kisses. He watched you with amusement lighting up in his eyes, seeing your eyes glazed over, staring up at the ceiling blankly, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm, blissed out. “You good?”

You blinked then nodded absentmindedly.

Chuckling, he scooped you up to hold you against him as he sat back onto his large chair, running his large palm across your back.

He silently promised to himself that he would never have you escape him into heaven. No, you’re going to stay with him, true to his words for the rest of eternity. A cute little dead ghost warming his bed.

Yeah, that sound better than heaven.

taglist (open)! @daflex, @moonlightbunnies, @brightbriefs

dividers: @/bronzewasp

[fireflyschiikawa]

heian!sukuna: on outliving you

and maybe he was finally being punished for the lineages he’d ended and the villages he had destroyed to deserve this.

a wife who became intellectual from the sake.

he approached you sure footed, he always knew where you were. just from the way you hugged your knees and gazed towards the sky he knew you were undoubtedly drunk.

you didn’t even look at him when he sat down.

“i demanded your presence” he spoke settling into a pose slightly similar to yours.

you hummed absently, “i was thinking.”

you’d gone strangely quiet.

that was always the first sign.

no dramatics. no stumbling around his estate. no demanding affection or starting arguments for entertainment.

instead, you became thoughtful.

suddenly you turned in your spot on the engawa, noting the lucidity of the night, and the silence that followed with the rest of the palace workers gone to rest until the next day.

“may i ask you a question my lord?” you patted sukuna’s thigh to get his attention.

he didn’t move, nor reply but didn’t object either.

“do you think people like me are remembered?”

sukuna glanced sideways at you, “people like you?”

you picked up ur drink and tilted the cup slowly, watching the sake shift inside it.

“women beside powerful men.”

ah.

there it was.

that strange melancholy that sometimes surfaced when you drank too much.

sukuna knew it was not insecurity even if he didn’t understand further, it still intrigued him how much it mattered for the human race, to be remembered.

“the names of emperors are remembered,” you continued softly, “warriors, clan heads, men who shape eras”

crickets chirped and a low wind carried the scent of jasmines planted at your request, across the foyer.

“but the women beside them become footnotes at best, most of them don’t even make it to the scroll”

sukuna rested one arm across his knee, keen on voicing his opinion, “you care too much about history”

“i think history reveals what people consider valuable”

your voice remained stoic, thoughtful.

“no one writes about the woman who sat beside the monster,” you murmured, “only the monster himself”

a pause.

then sukuna turned his head slowly toward you, amusement flickering across his face.

“so i am a monster to you?”

you blinked at him.

“well objectively”

the silence afterward lasted exactly one second before sukuna barked out a laugh, “and yet you still sit beside me”

“that’s because I’ve already accepted i have questionable judgment” you wave your glass in the air dismissively, “stop changing the topic, kuna” you scolded him.

the term, his name so lovingly shortened rolled of your tongue with such ease and no honorific, only dismissible due to your drunken state.

or maybe always.

sukuna chose not to comment on it, settling for a humble,

“hm.”

“in the grand scheme of things, what am i? if not just a speck in your life” he opened his mouth ready to retort when you held up a hand, silencing him.

how did you not see your own importance? who else could command the king of curses in such a way?

“but to me, this is everything. this is all i have and it makes it all the more precious..that it all just ends one day” you giggle a bit, melancholics a right of passage in this state.

“alas, forgotten” you rest your cheek on your knee wistfully looking up at sukuna ready for him to speak.

but he’s silent, woeful and utterly silent.

could it be that you’d gone too far? the haze from the sake wasn’t helping clearly you had misjudged, to get out of such a situation deemed to be a deplorable task even for the likes of you.

“forget i said that,” you mumble, a weak laugh caught in your throat, “the sake is making me sentimental”

“humans,” sukuna says quietly, “speak of being forgotten because your lives are too short to endure insignificance”

his voice is absent of mockery.

“you fear death less than you fear leaving no mark behind”

your brows knit slightly, you hadn’t expected him to understand at all.

he watches the lantern flame instead of you now.

“but i have lived long enough to know memory is not mercy” you watch the wind ruffle his peculiar crimson tinted hair as he speaks,

“entire eras rot inside me: names, faces, wars, prayers” his expression hardens faintly “none of them matter, time erodes all things evenly.”

for a moment, he looks exhausted by his own immortality. you had not expected that at all.

you swallow.

“then what’s the point?” you ask softly.

his eyes flick back to yours.

and for the first time that night, sukuna looks almost caught off guard by the answer forming within himself.

“there is none,” he says. “not in the grand scheme you speak of” he lightens his tone mocking the pitch of your voice and you smile faintly.

his gaze lowers briefly to your slumped posture, your tired eyes, the warmth of your knee brushing his side without fear.

“but meaning was never something inherent.”

a pause.

“it is assigned”

you feel the weight of the statement as sukuna leans back slightly, like the admission itself irritates him.

“do you think i would sit here entertaining drunken philosophy for just anyone?” there’s no softness in his tone. if anything, it’s sharp, defensive.

he’s offended by the importance of you in his life which makes it all the more devastating.

one day, when you passed on forgotten or not, he would remain and he would remember. you hadn’t thought about it like that, you had thought only for yourself, the realization was jarring.

“centuries pass like weather to me,” he murmurs. “yet i know the sound of your footsteps apart from others. i know when your silence means anger and when it means sorrow. i know when your kisses are thoughtless things, and when they linger like a final act.”

his jaw tightens subtly.

“so if all existence amounts to dust eventually..” his eyes narrow at you, almost accusingly, “then explain why you alone remain.”

firefly; existentialism yay!

[tokkushin]

꒰ MARKING — eijiro kirishima ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

i think kiri will only mark you — like full blown, uncontrolled marking — when he's overstimulated...

going raw for the first time and you can tell he's barely holding himself together, his thrusts are shallow and his eyes glossed over like he's trying not to break.

having to coax him through each movement, kissing his jawline and thumbing away the tears in his eyes as he moves inside you, mouth agape like it needs something to cling to.

so you give that to him.

guiding his head to the crook of your neck and whispering 'bite' against the shell of his ear. you expect him to ignore you, give a warning thrust, laughing as he tells you he 'isn't that far gone.'

but it doesn't happen, and instead you're graced with teeth digging into your shoulder.

it's gentle at first, like he's holding onto the slightest bit of restraint, but when you clench around him, back arched and moaning in his ear — he knows it's an invitation to be a little rougher <3

a/n: to go off this blurb from 🦈 nonnie, marking supremacy | masterlist

[azaablue]

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.