to be granted passage into this angel’s domain, there are gentle laws written in soft light. minors/age-unspecified blogs: don’t interact. this sanctuary is not formed for young eyes, nor for those seeking explicitness in shadowed corners.
The furnace of his chest is still pressed against your spine, but the suffocating weight shifts. Enough for you to actually get air into your lungs.
It’s almost ridiculous. The monstrous, blood-drenched King of Curses is entirely different after lovemaking, turned heavy and fiercely possessive in his sleep. All four of his massive arms are wrapped around you, locking you against him like a prize he refuses to lose. You’re completely trapped, but you still try your luck. You wiggle your painted toes, testing the waters, and slowly try to slide your hip out from under his grip.
Thump. A massive, heavy forearm drops right back over your ribs, flattening you into the mattress like a bug under a thumb. It’s not malicious, it’s heavy like a giant hound putting a paw on its favorite bone so the other dogs don't get any ideas.
"Going somewhere again?" he rumbles. The second mouth on his stomach lets out a low, wet yawn right against your lower back. It tickles, honestly, which is an absurd thing to think about a monstrous curse-god, but your ribs are shaking from it.
"I am covered in sweat, my lord. And you are a stove," you huff, trying to pry his thick fingers off your waist. It’s like trying to bend iron bars. "Let me go wash. Just for ten minutes."
"No."
"Sukuna."
He lets out a massive, dramatic sigh that blows your hair all over your face. One of his right hands reaches up, his thick, dark-nailed fingers catching your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him upside down. His main eyes are squinted, looking thoroughly annoyed, while the smaller pair underneath are blinking groggily.
"You are a stubborn creature, woman," he mutters, his thumb rough but strangely careful as it rubs a smudge of charcoal off your cheek. "Always crawling toward the door. Is my tatami not soft enough? Are my blankets lacking?"
"Your blankets are fine. You are suffocating me. You have too many limbs."
"An excess of perfection," the mouth on his torso chimes in, sounding entirely too amused with itself. You frown.
Sukuna hits his own stomach with his bottom left fist to shut it up. A dull thud echoes through his ribs. "Ignore him," he grunts.
Then, with a sudden, jerky movement that catches you completely off guard, he flips you.
You let out a small squeak as your world spins, and suddenly you’re flat on your back, staring up at his massive torso. Before you can protest, he collapses forward. Not entirely—he has the sense not to crush your ribs—but he buries his massive, head right into the crook of your neck, his top two arms wrapping completely around your shoulders, tucking you in like a sack of grain. His hair is spiky and pokes your nose. He smells like smoke, sweet wine, and something distinctly metallic and warm.
"There," he grumbles, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now you cannot run. Quiet down and sleep, woman."
"I can't breathe," you wheeze, though a tiny, treacherous smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You reach up, your small hands looking ridiculous against the massive expanse of his tattooed shoulders, and map the rough ridges of his skin.
"You're breathing enough to complain," he murmurs. One of his lower hands reaches down, blindly groping around the floor until it finds the silk robe you discarded earlier. He drags it up and dumps it carelessly over both of you like an extra blanket. "Rest. If you are still whining when the sun comes up, I will let you wash. Maybe." He shifts, his massive chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He’s heavy currently snoring a tiny bit right into your ear—but he isn't letting go.
warnings. mdni. fem reader. milf reader. prostitution. age gap. backshots. creampie. blow job/throat fucking. praise. cults/religious themes. sub choso. usage of good boy. squirting. size kink. consensual recording. deff ooc.
@cash_only (Toji Fushiguro)
SORCERER KILLER RAW-DOGS RICH BUSTY MILF TO PAY OFF HIS GAMBLING DEBTS (GONE FILTHY) !
Toji can barely bother to spew out the filthy commentary his subscribers pay for. He’s too busy working—taking you from behind, heavy balls slapping against the round globes of your ass, forcing your manicured nails to clench deep into your expensive silk sheets. He reaches down with his free hand, shifting the phone camera, angling the lens down to show the audience exactly how your soft, well-kept cunt is stretching to take every single inch of his cock.
Then, he stalls. He pulls back slowly until only the flushed-angry red tip remains inside, holding you right on the edge. You let out a soft, breathless murmur of his name. When you glance back over your shoulder with lidded eyes, the faint lines around your eyes, the elegant crinkles of a woman who has lived a little, deepen into a heavy, knowing smile. You aren't some young, terrified brat. You’re a grown woman who knows exactly what she bought, and you aren't ashamed of how much you want it.
Looking at that expression on your face, Toji figures he’s giving you every single yen’s worth. He slams his cock back in. The sudden, brutal bottoming out forces an audible, messy squelch from your needy pussy, tearing a sharp gasp straight out of your throat. His shaft is already heavily coated in a thick, wet layer of your own cream, but it’s barely visible beneath the dim, shifting shadows of the room. Unbothered, Toji reaches over and clicks the camera flash on. The harsh, white light cuts through the dark, exposing everything. He uses his massive, calloused fingers to ruthlessly spread you further apart, getting a perfectly clear, high-definition shot for the camera—showing the internet exactly how wide you stretch around him, glistening and completely filled to the brim.
@honored1inthesheets (Gojo Satoru)
THE HONORED ONE CUMS IN WHINY BRAT'S THROAT: LIMITLESS COCK MAKES HER CRY !
The white glare of his phone screen reflects off your sparkly lip gloss that’s smudged all over Gojo’s shaft. Fat, hot tears are already swelling in the corners of your eyes, your cheeks puffed out and aching in a desperate (frankly pathetic) attempt to stretch around the sheer length of his cock.
“There you go, baby,” the white-haired man above you coos, his voice dripping with mock-sweet sympathy.
After ten minutes of nonstop gagging, whining, and bratty complaints—to the point where thick, bubbly spit began dripping down your chin and pooling right into your cleavage—you’ve finally managed to take him all the way down. Gojo looks down at your warm, tear-stained face with a proud and condescending grin, his fingers tangled in your hair to keep you pinned.
“A hard worker, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek with fake gentleness. “Took you long enough to fit it in, baby. But look at you now, a real fuckin’ trooper.”
You try to drown out his teasing and focus on your ministrations, determined to wipe that smug look off his face. You bob your head up and down, deliberately pushing his dick to the very back of your throat. Nasty, wet slurping sounds echo through the quiet room with every single movement, the friction so intense that hot tears streak down your round cheeks again, leaving you breathless. It’s an exhausting effort, but it’s all worth it when he finally loses his cool ‘n mocking composure. His hips jerk forward as he releases a thick, heavy load straight into your mouth, his voice dropping as he praises you.
"That’s my pretty girl. Clean it all up for me, yeah? The fans wanna see.”
@purification.ritual (Geto Suguru)
CULT LEADER BREEDS OBEDIENT MEMBER ON THE ALTAR (FILLS HER UP TO THE BRIM) !
“Perfect,” Geto grunts, a low groan vibrating deep within his broad chest as he rolls his heavy hips against yours. He stays buried deep, keeping the thick, sticky mess he just pooled inside your slicked cunt trapped, using the prodding head of his shaft to push his kids even further up against your womb. He handles your hips like property, long fingers digging dark bruises into your soft skin to anchor you beneath him.
“Always been such a good listener, haven’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a smooth, velvet purr that echoes off the dim sanctuary walls. He leans down, his long black hair brushing against your damp shoulder as his lips graze your ear. “Your loyalty deserves a proper reward.”
You lazily nod in response, but it’s more of a dazed response, your head rolling back against the cold cedar of the altar like some flimsy rag doll. Your mind is completely gone—utterly cock-drunk, floating in a warm, ditzy haze of absolute pleasure and devotion. You can barely form a coherent thought, your round eyes lidded and unfocused as you stare up at the flickering candlelight.
You’re just so incredibly honored. After so long spent listening, obeying, and bending to his every single whim, having your messy pussy stuffed to the brim by your savior feels like the highest holy blessing. It’s the best gift you could ever ask for in return.
“Mmm… thank you, Master,” you whimper out, a tiny, pathetic line of spit stringing from your lips as you tilt your hips, desperately trying to swallow every last drop of his offering. Geto lets out a satisfied chuckle at the sight of your ruined, vacant expression. He strokes your cheek with a mock-gentle touch, pleased with how thoroughly he's broken your mind.
“Just keep it all inside.”
@malevolent_cock (Sukuna Ryomen)
MORTAL SLUT STRUGGLES TO BOUNCE ON A KING.
His bored, crimson eyes blink down at your frustrated, pouty face. You glare at his heavily tattooed cock before wrapping your small hand around the thick shaft, trying your best to guide it into your entrance. The stretch is undeniably painful, the sheer width of him making you pause. This is your third attempt, and your tight walls can only manage to swallow him halfway before you stall out, whimpering from the pressure.
“Any day now, woman,” he grunts, his deep voice scraping through the dark. He’s growing frustrated, patience running thin as he’s forced to just lie there while half his cock is being choked by your wet, trembling walls.
You don’t blame him for getting irritated.
Growing determined, your eyebrows furrow and tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to force yourself down a few more centimeters. Sukuna sighs—a low sound and suddenly, his large, clawed hands find your waist, his grip bruising as he ruthlessly pulls you down in one swift, sudden swoop. The whine that rips out of your mouth is loud and trembling, your core stretching to its absolute limit as he bottoms out inside you.
The pain turns into a blinding, suffocating rush of pleasure. Gaining a sudden burst of courage from the sheer intensity, you start hopping on his cock like a rabbit, your tits bouncing frantically in unison. Messy, loud squelching sounds echo through the room as your juices spray over his lower stomach, your wet cream coating his tattoos with every deep stride.
@yujisolderbrother (Choso Kamo) <— (had no clue what the website was till after btw)
GOOD NEEDY BOY LICKS MOMMIES PUSSY TILL SHE SQUIRTS !
The camera is shaky in your hand, the angles wobbly and uneven. In your defense, it’s nearly impossible to keep a lens steady when you’ve got a pretty boy buried between your thighs, his tongue thrusting deep in and out of your wet, aching hole. He’s eating your cunt out like he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, completely desperate to please you. Choso is needy beyond belief, letting out soft, pathetic whimpers against your puffy folds each time you use your free hand to shove his face harder into your mount.
“Please…” Your name rasps out on his tongue, raw and begging. Strands of his black hair stick to his damp forehead, his dark eyes shining with pure, unadulterated need as he looks up at you.
“You want to make me feel good that bad, Cho?” you coo down at him, your tone dripping with indulgence as your fingers tangle in his hair.
“Want you to feel so good… want to taste all of you,” he whines, sniffling a little and rubbing at his teary eyes with the back of his wrist because he’s so overwhelmed at this point. He’s completely unraveled, just wanting you to cum on his tongue more than his next breath. He pushes two thick fingers inside you, scissoring them in with perfect harmony, his tongue lapping and circling around your sensitive clit. Deciding he's been a good boy (and because you can’t hold on much longer), you finally grant his wish. Your gummy walls clamp down hard, thighs shaking violently as you spray sweet juices straight onto his waiting pink tongue. Choso licks you down greedily as you capture every single second on the shaking screen.
+ these r short nd unedited cuz they’re all wip’s i scrapped, been burnt out asf lately so this is all i can post rn myf </3
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: clit pumping, softdom!suguru, early 20’s sugu, pet names, head (f! receiving), kinky sex hehe, reader in deep subspace, sweet talk, decryphilia, nurturing kink, emotional play.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ 𝑎/𝑛: heya, more of this bc I’m trying to still get used to putting my stuff out there shamelessly..
╭──────༺♡༻──────╮
“Such a cute thing..” he’s staring down at you like the most precious thing in the world. One hand cupping your right cheek with reverence, the other hand holding and squeezing the pump in the other hand. Tears falling down your face from how long this has gone on. Your clit becoming more swollen and sensitive. It’s so tender—even peeking out from the hood, embarrassingly so. He’s sitting between your legs in his bed, your on your back with your legs tucked into your chest. He leans down and kisses your tear stained cheek murmuring sweet words. “Don’t cry honey..”
“I..I’m sorry..” you stutter. “What are you sorry for honey? You didn’t do anything.” And he’s right, why are you crying? Is it because you’re too sensitive or because his words are making you cry? You look at the wall avoiding his gaze as he looks so confused and sympathetic at the same time. He just wants to hold you tight and kiss you all over—safe in his arms. “You alright?” He whispers against you. “Yeah..” you turn your head to him and you lean up—he kisses you tenderly then slides his tongue in your mouth. “Mmh..” you moan softly.
He kisses you deeper and you feel more suction on your clit making it harder. You whine under him and break the kiss breathless. He moves back down to your hips—kissing softly at your most sensitive parts. Once he’s settled between your legs he loosens the toy and looks down at it. He licks his lips then wraps his lips around the tip of your clit and starts sucking it slowly up and down. Your body shivers at the intense sensation and you lay your head into the pillows breathing in and out. You grab hold of his head and close your eyes. His moan vibrating warm lips sucking your clit up and down then lifting away from your sensitive slick bud—his saliva dripping down its new growth.
He takes his hand and puts his index finger and thumb on it, one on top and the other underneath it. Your body tenses and he looks up then softly smiles at your response. His fingers slowly start moving up and down. “Relax baby, you’re okay.” He says soothing your near trembling and straining body. You take a deep breath in and sway your head left and right trying to relax like he says. You feel your body feel lighter and slump into the bed completely giving in. “That’s it honey.” He speaks softly again reinforcing your body to relax further into the euphoric feeling. “Mmmh..” your hands let go of his hair and fall into the bed completely surrendering. He doesn’t slow down or speed up after, he just keeps that same slow pace that makes you breathe harder. Dragging out your pleasure for as long as he can.
“My love so tired hm..” his voice felt far but still here. He didn’t expect a real response from you anyway because your mind felt like it was drifting to a higher plane. All you do is make tiny moans slip from your lips. His touch felt more overbearing but you knew he didn’t change his motions or grip. You open your tired eyes and look at him slightly confused—is your body honing in on this pleasure only right now? “No thinking.” He interrupts your thought process. “Just relax and don’t think about anything.” His voice soft and coaxing you deeper. You sigh and lay your head back into the pillow—his fingers still slowly stroking against your hard clit. Back deeper into that state of being. “Okay..” you breathe in and out again relaxing.
“Good girl.” He praises. Your mind feels fuzzy as you feel his fingers glide against your clit. It was starting to throb and that was the only thing your body is letting you focus on. You take in deep shaky breaths as he goes slightly faster. “Hmmh..” you moan and take more shortening breaths at the pace change. “Mmmmmmh..” you swallow harshly. He lets go of your clit then goes back to sucking it softly. Swirling his tongue around it. You felt every single tight loop he’s giving you. “Hmmmmhhh..” he moans against your skin again. It felt like a large reverberant bell but there was no sound—only the hum of his voice lulling against your twitching clit. It just pulls you deeper into that state. Your pussy leaking cum down from your hole and into your asshole and onto the sheets.
Your flower opens up more. Somewhere deep inside the pit of your stomach you feel a sweet sensation of euphoria from the inside. Pulling through your sweaty body. “Ouuuu!” Your thighs strains themselves and try to crush his head but his arms forcefully hold your thighs and sucks your throbbing clit into his lips. “Hmmmmmh..” he moans deeper this time, vibrations of his voice making your body coil and flex your abs taking in more shaky breath. Big drops of cum weeping out into his mouth. “Aaahhh..” you moan and gasp after, hands gripping the bed for some sort of support. You close your eyes shut and swallow breathing harder. He lifts his lips again then kisses it repeatedly from the underside of it, smearing your cum and his saliva all over his soft dew lips and your tender sensitive clit, he blows on your sweet spot and gathers his spit in his mouth then lightly spits over it—bubbles of spit sliding slowly into your clenching asshole. His tongue dips inside you and slithers it back up to your clit and sinks his lips back down on it. “Su-guru..” you strain your own voice and take a deep breath in, clenching at his hair again as he licks against your clit—working his muscle against you. This agonizing feeling in your stomach is about to release—you just have to accept it in your mind.
Your body shakes deeper as your mind gets more fuzzier. “Cuuuuummmhhh!” Your body involuntarily curls into itself—your legs wrapping around his head. Your brain wants him to stay. You want him to stay. He understands. He completely understands. “Mmmiiinng!” It was like a wrecked whispered plea. All of your tears fall from your eyes. All this love was for you, and he was gladly giving it to you. You’re in your most purest form right now, and he’s going to cherish it. You take a deep shaking breath in your chest as your heart beats fast and hard. It was too late, your cum was already seeping out. Now all that came out was needy sounds and pleas as your whole body is shaking and trembling. Suguru loves you so much, he’ll do anything for his love. And if giving you this made you happier, he’ll do it over and over again just to show his devotion.
🧁 mean olderbf!kuna loves calling you a brat ! 18+
“mmf—fuck kuna i c-can’t” you moan out, your orgasm was only a couple thrusts away. your nails dug into his thin black cotton sheets, knuckles white and tense. “shut up, you can take it brat” his large hand muffles your pathetic cries.
“y’want my nephews to hear how pathetic you sound mm?” he hums in your ear. you whimper against his hand—trying to pull away
“don’t, don’t even try” he yanked your hand away, pinning it above your head.
he continued to pound into you roughly, hips snapping against yours with so much force, your back was in a nasty arch. you could feel the future soreness. a warm tear trails down your pretty face, the pleasure you were feeling was so intense it was overstimulating.
you were completely stretched, his length was splitting you open, his fat tip hitting your cervix with every rough thrust. your whole body felt warm.
“p-please kuna” — ah!— “can’t take it. you’re too big.” you cry out, as your manicured nails dug into the flesh of his tattooed back, that would leave red marks he’d show off proudly after
you could feel your orgasm building up.
his pace slows. teasing your release. your cries fade, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure, you were taking it, all of him
that sends you over the edge. your peak washes over you intensely.
“see? knew you could take it brat” he notices your fucked out face—how completely lost in pleasure. how drunk you are on his cock
he brushes your sweaty bangs out of your face, caressing your cheek with the pad of this thumb “cute” he muttered, more to himself than you.
"you've really never done this before?" one of toji's brows arched, near genuine shock on his face.
a breath caught in your chest and you nervously shook your head, "no... i've only ever been with one person and... i dunno, we never did mouth stuff."
his expression turned colder, "he never fuckin' ate you out?"
again, you shook your head.
he huffed out a laugh, "tch, did he ever make you cum?" his scarred lips curled into a smirk as he spoke.
you pouted slightly, "he didn't. he barely touched me. once he finished he pulled out and rolled over. never even asked if i was feeling good." the memory of your asshole ex made you frown, but at the same time it felt strangely good to talk about it. even though you had just met toji, he seemed to be listening to every word you said.
toji leaned in, his lips almost brushing yours, "i'm gonna show you a damn good time, alright doll?" his breath was hot against your lips, and your body desperately wanted to close the space between you.
dampness pooled in your panties when he finally connected his lips to yours. his hands found purchase on your waist and back, keeping your body flush against his own.
a nervous excitement settled in your stomach. you'd never given head before, but you felt eager for the older man in front of you to teach you.
he moved his hand up, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning you against the wall. his teeth nipped at your bottom lip before he allowed his tongue to swipe over the bitten skin.
you were utterly dizzy, you'd never felt arousal like this before. your pussy throbbed with desire, the walls clenching around nothing. you imagined feeling his thick fingers pushing inside of you and moaned into the kiss.
his free hand groped at your breasts, the sensation eliciting more sweet moans from your lips. his tongue brushed against yours and toji groaned against you.
toji's dick was almost painfully hard and resting against your thigh. he pressed his hips closer to you in an attempt to alleviate the ache between his legs.
even through his pants you could tell he was big. with each roll of his hips against you his kisses grew messier, a new hunger building inside him.
pulling away from your lips, he pushed you down to your knees. he retrieved a pillow from the bed and helped place it under your knees for comfort.
your eyes were wide as you stared up at him, awaiting his instructions.
he made quick work of removing his pants and boxers. his hard length springing free, lightly slapping against his stomach.
his eyes narrowed as they met yours, "you want it?" he smirked, grabbing the base of his cock and slapping it against your lips.
you eagerly nodded and opened your mouth.
"fuck, i knew you would. stick out your tongue for me," you obliged, "good, now lick from the base to the tip."
you dragged your tongue up his dick and swirled it around the tip, collecting the pre-cum that had gathered.
he let out a groan, "suck on it, you can start with just the tip. watch your teeth."
his hips twitched up as you pressed a kiss to the tip before taking him into your mouth. covering your teeth with your lips, you sucked on the fat head of his dick.
toji groaned loudly as you suckled on him, moaning around his length, "you're doin' so well, now take as much as you can. use your hands on what's left, and don't be afraid to be messy. spit on it."
his low, teasing, voice sent shocks of arousal down to your dripping cunt.
you released him from your mouth and spit on his cock, watching it drip down.
using the spit as lubricant, you pumped him with your hand before taking him back into your mouth.
you sucked him in until he was touching the back of your throat, your hand gripping the remaining length.
"fuck– that's it, now hollow your cheeks, show me how much you're enjoyin' this, sweetheart."
following his instruction, you hollowed your cheeks. he grunted as you bobbed your head. each time the head of his cock touched the back of your throat you gagged a tiny bit, producing more saliva. the spit dripped out of your mouth, soaking his dick.
you applied more pressure with your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. there was no resistance to your movements, your spit had fully drenched him.
his fingers tangled in your hair and he forced you to look up at him, smirking, "nasty girl, hm? i bet you're fuckin' soaked right now. all from sucking me off..."
momentarily forgetting that your mouth was full of him you responded, "yes, toji, i– i love it." however, your words came out jumbled and hardly audible. he bucked his hips, fucking your mouth, further rendering you incapable of speech.
he firmly held your head in place and fucked your throat, keeping a brutal pace that had you choking around him with each thrust.
"shit, doll, i'm close, want me to cum down this pretty throat?"
you nodded, needing him to cum. your cheeks hollowed more and you pumped him faster, holding him tighter.
toji pushed your head down, his hips faltering. he gave no warning as his orgasm washed over him. warm cum dripped down your throat, you swallowed every drop he gave you.
he released your hair, but you continued to gently bob your head on him, sucking him through his climax.
when you finally released him from your mouth, you pressed a final kiss to his softening dick.
he pulled you up and smashed his lips against yours, the same fiery passion controlling his kisses.
toji looked strong: his arms, abs, back, all of him was huge. you didn't realize how strong he truly was until he had picked you up and thrown you onto the bed.
he slotted himself between your open legs and ripped your panties off.
"i'm gonna show you what it's like to cum. ruin this pussy for any other losers who treat you like shit. gonna make sure you never forget me." his voice was a growl and his breath was fanning across your dripping cunt.
your hips bucked up, chasing the satisfaction you craved.
toji dove in, sucking your clit into his hungry mouth. you could tell he was going to be unrelenting.
The furnace of his chest is still pressed against your spine, but the suffocating weight shifts. Enough for you to actually get air into your lungs.
It’s almost ridiculous. The monstrous, blood-drenched King of Curses is entirely different after lovemaking, turned heavy and fiercely possessive in his sleep. All four of his massive arms are wrapped around you, locking you against him like a prize he refuses to lose. You’re completely trapped, but you still try your luck. You wiggle your painted toes, testing the waters, and slowly try to slide your hip out from under his grip.
Thump. A massive, heavy forearm drops right back over your ribs, flattening you into the mattress like a bug under a thumb. It’s not malicious, it’s heavy like a giant hound putting a paw on its favorite bone so the other dogs don't get any ideas.
"Going somewhere again?" he rumbles. The second mouth on his stomach lets out a low, wet yawn right against your lower back. It tickles, honestly, which is an absurd thing to think about a monstrous curse-god, but your ribs are shaking from it.
"I am covered in sweat, my lord. And you are a stove," you huff, trying to pry his thick fingers off your waist. It’s like trying to bend iron bars. "Let me go wash. Just for ten minutes."
"No."
"Sukuna."
He lets out a massive, dramatic sigh that blows your hair all over your face. One of his right hands reaches up, his thick, dark-nailed fingers catching your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him upside down. His main eyes are squinted, looking thoroughly annoyed, while the smaller pair underneath are blinking groggily.
"You are a stubborn creature, woman," he mutters, his thumb rough but strangely careful as it rubs a smudge of charcoal off your cheek. "Always crawling toward the door. Is my tatami not soft enough? Are my blankets lacking?"
"Your blankets are fine. You are suffocating me. You have too many limbs."
"An excess of perfection," the mouth on his torso chimes in, sounding entirely too amused with itself. You frown.
Sukuna hits his own stomach with his bottom left fist to shut it up. A dull thud echoes through his ribs. "Ignore him," he grunts.
Then, with a sudden, jerky movement that catches you completely off guard, he flips you.
You let out a small squeak as your world spins, and suddenly you’re flat on your back, staring up at his massive torso. Before you can protest, he collapses forward. Not entirely—he has the sense not to crush your ribs—but he buries his massive, head right into the crook of your neck, his top two arms wrapping completely around your shoulders, tucking you in like a sack of grain. His hair is spiky and pokes your nose. He smells like smoke, sweet wine, and something distinctly metallic and warm.
"There," he grumbles, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now you cannot run. Quiet down and sleep, woman."
"I can't breathe," you wheeze, though a tiny, treacherous smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You reach up, your small hands looking ridiculous against the massive expanse of his tattooed shoulders, and map the rough ridges of his skin.
"You're breathing enough to complain," he murmurs. One of his lower hands reaches down, blindly groping around the floor until it finds the silk robe you discarded earlier. He drags it up and dumps it carelessly over both of you like an extra blanket. "Rest. If you are still whining when the sun comes up, I will let you wash. Maybe." He shifts, his massive chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He’s heavy currently snoring a tiny bit right into your ear—but he isn't letting go.
The furnace of his chest is still pressed against your spine, but the suffocating weight shifts. Enough for you to actually get air into your lungs.
It’s almost ridiculous. The monstrous, blood-drenched King of Curses is entirely different after lovemaking, turned heavy and fiercely possessive in his sleep. All four of his massive arms are wrapped around you, locking you against him like a prize he refuses to lose. You’re completely trapped, but you still try your luck. You wiggle your painted toes, testing the waters, and slowly try to slide your hip out from under his grip.
Thump. A massive, heavy forearm drops right back over your ribs, flattening you into the mattress like a bug under a thumb. It’s not malicious, it’s heavy like a giant hound putting a paw on its favorite bone so the other dogs don't get any ideas.
"Going somewhere again?" he rumbles. The second mouth on his stomach lets out a low, wet yawn right against your lower back. It tickles, honestly, which is an absurd thing to think about a monstrous curse-god, but your ribs are shaking from it.
"I am covered in sweat, my lord. And you are a stove," you huff, trying to pry his thick fingers off your waist. It’s like trying to bend iron bars. "Let me go wash. Just for ten minutes."
"No."
"Sukuna."
He lets out a massive, dramatic sigh that blows your hair all over your face. One of his right hands reaches up, his thick, dark-nailed fingers catching your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him upside down. His main eyes are squinted, looking thoroughly annoyed, while the smaller pair underneath are blinking groggily.
"You are a stubborn creature, woman," he mutters, his thumb rough but strangely careful as it rubs a smudge of charcoal off your cheek. "Always crawling toward the door. Is my tatami not soft enough? Are my blankets lacking?"
"Your blankets are fine. You are suffocating me. You have too many limbs."
"An excess of perfection," the mouth on his torso chimes in, sounding entirely too amused with itself. You frown.
Sukuna hits his own stomach with his bottom left fist to shut it up. A dull thud echoes through his ribs. "Ignore him," he grunts.
Then, with a sudden, jerky movement that catches you completely off guard, he flips you.
You let out a small squeak as your world spins, and suddenly you’re flat on your back, staring up at his massive torso. Before you can protest, he collapses forward. Not entirely—he has the sense not to crush your ribs—but he buries his massive, head right into the crook of your neck, his top two arms wrapping completely around your shoulders, tucking you in like a sack of grain. His hair is spiky and pokes your nose. He smells like smoke, sweet wine, and something distinctly metallic and warm.
"There," he grumbles, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now you cannot run. Quiet down and sleep, woman."
"I can't breathe," you wheeze, though a tiny, treacherous smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You reach up, your small hands looking ridiculous against the massive expanse of his tattooed shoulders, and map the rough ridges of his skin.
"You're breathing enough to complain," he murmurs. One of his lower hands reaches down, blindly groping around the floor until it finds the silk robe you discarded earlier. He drags it up and dumps it carelessly over both of you like an extra blanket. "Rest. If you are still whining when the sun comes up, I will let you wash. Maybe." He shifts, his massive chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He’s heavy currently snoring a tiny bit right into your ear—but he isn't letting go.
The furnace of his chest is still pressed against your spine, but the suffocating weight shifts. Enough for you to actually get air into your lungs.
It’s almost ridiculous. The monstrous, blood-drenched King of Curses is entirely different after lovemaking, turned heavy and fiercely possessive in his sleep. All four of his massive arms are wrapped around you, locking you against him like a prize he refuses to lose. You’re completely trapped, but you still try your luck. You wiggle your painted toes, testing the waters, and slowly try to slide your hip out from under his grip.
Thump. A massive, heavy forearm drops right back over your ribs, flattening you into the mattress like a bug under a thumb. It’s not malicious, it’s heavy like a giant hound putting a paw on its favorite bone so the other dogs don't get any ideas.
"Going somewhere again?" he rumbles. The second mouth on his stomach lets out a low, wet yawn right against your lower back. It tickles, honestly, which is an absurd thing to think about a monstrous curse-god, but your ribs are shaking from it.
"I am covered in sweat, my lord. And you are a stove," you huff, trying to pry his thick fingers off your waist. It’s like trying to bend iron bars. "Let me go wash. Just for ten minutes."
"No."
"Sukuna."
He lets out a massive, dramatic sigh that blows your hair all over your face. One of his right hands reaches up, his thick, dark-nailed fingers catching your chin and tilting your head back until you’re forced to look at him upside down. His main eyes are squinted, looking thoroughly annoyed, while the smaller pair underneath are blinking groggily.
"You are a stubborn creature, woman," he mutters, his thumb rough but strangely careful as it rubs a smudge of charcoal off your cheek. "Always crawling toward the door. Is my tatami not soft enough? Are my blankets lacking?"
"Your blankets are fine. You are suffocating me. You have too many limbs."
"An excess of perfection," the mouth on his torso chimes in, sounding entirely too amused with itself. You frown.
Sukuna hits his own stomach with his bottom left fist to shut it up. A dull thud echoes through his ribs. "Ignore him," he grunts.
Then, with a sudden, jerky movement that catches you completely off guard, he flips you.
You let out a small squeak as your world spins, and suddenly you’re flat on your back, staring up at his massive torso. Before you can protest, he collapses forward. Not entirely—he has the sense not to crush your ribs—but he buries his massive, head right into the crook of your neck, his top two arms wrapping completely around your shoulders, tucking you in like a sack of grain. His hair is spiky and pokes your nose. He smells like smoke, sweet wine, and something distinctly metallic and warm.
"There," he grumbles, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now you cannot run. Quiet down and sleep, woman."
"I can't breathe," you wheeze, though a tiny, treacherous smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You reach up, your small hands looking ridiculous against the massive expanse of his tattooed shoulders, and map the rough ridges of his skin.
"You're breathing enough to complain," he murmurs. One of his lower hands reaches down, blindly groping around the floor until it finds the silk robe you discarded earlier. He drags it up and dumps it carelessly over both of you like an extra blanket. "Rest. If you are still whining when the sun comes up, I will let you wash. Maybe." He shifts, his massive chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He’s heavy currently snoring a tiny bit right into your ear—but he isn't letting go.
ryomen sukuna finally decides to man up….three months after he spoke to you last. is he too late or will you let him back in?
PART 03: FRAT BRO’S DILEMMA
PAIRING: frat bro! ryomen sukuna x fem reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. unplanned pregnancy. baby gumi cameo. sukuna being a self absorbed asshole (what’s new). mention of abortion.
NOTE: halfway through writing a frat series n just found out what a social chair is #embarrassed 💔💔 will be doing more research now
ryomen sukuna’s a man who’s used to being in control.
of the world shifting in and around his feet to accommodate to the sheer amount of space that he takes up. to being the center of attention in every room that he walked in—necks craning around to get so much as a glimpse, a call of his last name in hopes he’d so much as give a curt nod, a pat on the shoulder.
even in rooms he’s never stepped a foot in, he was the center of attention. name rolling around in waves from one mouth onto the next, rumors spreading like wildfire that he’s never cared to confirm nor deny.
he doesn’t remember the last time he’s so much as had to open his mouth to get a woman to talk to him, they usually flock to him like a pack of vultures going after decaying flesh. they’re eager to talk to him, to be seen with him, to have some proof that they existed around him. but they never actually want to see him. not that it matters—he forgets about their name by the time they’re under him.
it wasn’t a fulfilling life by any means, but it filled him with temporary pleasure. that’s all he needed—or at least, what he’d thought he needed.
meeting you wasn’t something extraordinary, something that set his life off kilter. it was purely transactional, you’d teach him how to get through calculus and he’d help you get (unnecessary, in his opinion) extra credit with your professor. then, he started noticing how seriously you’d taken to start tutoring him.
studying straight out the book wasn’t cutting it, you’d come to realize. neither was printing out practice problems from khan academy. he wasn’t this stupid, you knew that much. “i know you don’t want to be here but just tell me what i can do to make this bearable for the both of us,” you suggested one afternoon, tired of going around in circles and circles.
“explain it to me. not out the book, not from some website, but from your brain,” he’d responded like the answer had been obvious the whole time. so, you did. started wording things in a way that you normally would, made it easier to grasp epsilon-delta proofs even if it took you two weeks.
sukuna started noticing little things about you, too: from the way you color coded your journals: red for stats, blue for english, purple for the history and culture of edo japan, to the way you nibbled down on your pen when even you were having a hard time explaining infinite sequences. how you started keeping a little snack around in case he needed it after basketball practice (he always did).
you were everything he should’ve hated himself for liking, everything he did hate himself for liking, and yet here he was. standing in front of your dorm building, heart pounding in his eardrum.
sukuna’s been many things throughout his life.
basketball captain, frat vice president, an asshole, a chronic avoider and ghoster, he’s been a liar.
but what he hasn’t been is just plain old discarded.
replaced.
and by none other than president of nerd-central himself, satoru gojo.
satoru gojo who once had a head brace on in high school, crooked teeth forced shut by metal clasp after metal clasp that left him with a lisp. satoru gojo that once went over digimon evolutions for bio 101–writing a twenty page analysis and getting an a for it.
satoru gojo who has a prized membership at barnes and nobles, spending most of time wearing hideous sweater vests and burying his face in a book.
but here you are, getting walked up to your dorm building by that nerd with his fingers splayed across your back. his touch cautious, gently guiding you up the stairs to your building. you’re in one of his hoodies, hands fiddling with the sleeves as if you’re debating giving it back. you don’t.
the part that gets him the most about your interaction with gojo is that you seem happy being around him, happy in a way he’s never given you the opportunity to be around him. it’s stupid, but sukuna swears he could’ve wrung his scrawny ass neck just for giving you a forehead kiss.
sukuna doesn’t think twice before speeding back off to the frat house, breaking nearly every traffic law in existence. he doesn’t punch a wall like an overgrown man child (though the thought of putting satoru’s face on the door to throw darts lingers), instead, he just sits there. in pure silence and in the dark.
he thinks about calling yoruzu or any of the multiple unsaved numbers on his phone—any of them that would be showing up to his door before he even got the chance to ask them to come over with their panties half down their knees.
for once, the thought makes him want to throw up.
then, he thinks about trying to make things right with you, of showing up to your dorm with a cheap bouquet of roses from the grocery store and a half-assed apology. you’d probably push him away, and it’d be well deserved.
he hasn’t bothered to show up or even try to make an attempt to talk to you in months, leaving you to struggle through your pregnancy alone. sukuna had seen you throughout campus, had seen you attempt to hide your belly with oversized t-shirts, had seen how fatigued you looked after walking down a hall.
that thought makes him even more nauseous.
sukuna settles for calling toji over instead.
this used to be toji’s scene once upon a time (just two years ago), showing up to every frat rager with a different girl on his arm. losing his shirt halfway into the night, manicured nails trailing up the defined ridges of his stomach. phone blowing up the next day from those very same girls, demanding a text back that never came.
instead, now he walks into the house with a baby strapped onto his chest, megumi staring at his surroundings with mild curiosity and a thumb in between his lips. it’s a mess—beer bottles scattered throughout every surface, leaving behind condensation rings that’d be a pain in the ass to try to clean up later, a few clothes that the underclassmen left strewn around on lamp posts.
it’s weird seeing toji so put together, so grown up. though, it’s a sight that fits him, sukuna has to admit that much.
toji plops onto the couch with a thud, one hand on megumi’s back while he adjusts against the cushions. the baby lets out a yawn before burying his face deeper against toji’s shirt, one tiny hand clasped around the fabric.
“you want a beer, man?” sukuna calls out from the kitchen, perusing through the drinks selection in the fridge. a few cans of budweiser, a nearly finished bottle of absolut vodka, three cans of red bull and monster, and a half empty bottle of water. not like he had much to offer, regardless.
“nah, i’ll get a water.” sukuna grabs the pathetic excuse for a water (making a mental note to buy more, chances are he’ll forget by tomorrow) and a can of budweiser. he tossed over the bottle we’re toji was sitting, taking a seat at the other end of the couch. spreading wiiide open while he turns on the tv, getting a game queued up.
the two of them settled on 2k, the game starting off fairly competitive. insults were thrown, names were muttered, controllers were thrown, before any actual conversation started to take place. even then, it was about the frat, about torture methods initiation procedures for the new pledges, about whatever their minds could come up with.
sukuna decides now is as good of a time as any to bite the bullet. he gulps down the rest of his beer in one quick chug, crushing the can in his palm before glancing over at toji. “how’d you know you were ready to be a dad and shit?” he speaks up, vaguely gesturing to where megumi was still peacefully asleep against his father’s chest.
toji lets out a sigh that makes him sound double his age, his expression one of complete devotion upon looking down at megumi. of pure adoration to the bundle of joy that his wife brought into the world.
“i wasn’t ready. thought i wanted this—” toji merely looked around at the space around them, memories rushing back like a fright train before he continued, “—life forever. of hooking up and getting drunk every weekend. but the little guy’s mom needed me to be, so here i am. buying diapers and readin’ bed time stories.”
“mm. makes sense.”
“what’s with the question, man? you plannin’ on settling down soon?” toji questions, letting out a snort, “or did ya get a girl pregnant?” it’s spoken of as a joke, his laugh echoing across the quiet halls of the house.
sukuna doesn’t dignify that with a response. he picks at the tab on the crushed can, trying to look everywhere but the man sitting next to him. even looking up at the hideous painting choso hung on the wall and tried to excuse as ‘abstract.’ toji sees right through the act, his laughter quickly fading into a disbelieving scoff.
“no fucking way man,” toji manages to get out, eyes practically the size of saucers. “congrats.” the man reaches out to pat sukuna on the back, each one more awkward than the last.
he only manages to get out a grunt of acknowledgment, “thanks man,” sukuna mutters out, arms coming to lay behind his head after the game’s been discarded, “but i messed up. me and baby mama aren’t talking anymore.”
toji lets out a low whistle. he took a large swig of water, haphazardly throwing it off to the side where it only added even more to the mess surrounding the coffee table. “what’d you do to her?”
“gave her a couple hundred bucks for the abortion and a happy meal. said i didn’t wanna be a dad,” sukuna merely shrugged in response, barely managing to avoid the punch toji sent to his arm.
“no shit she doesn’t want anything to do with you,” once again, toji does nothing but state the obvious.
“i know that much. don’t know how to be back in her life when she’s avoiding me like the plague.”
“you gotta apologize. say you’re sorry for bein’ a dick. let her know you wanna be a part of the baby’s life,” toji answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, like they were just discussing what to eat. “don’t expect her to let you back in, but show her you’re tryin.’”
it sounds easier than it is, but he knows that’s his only option. the two of them continue playing a few more rounds before mrs, fushiguro ended up calling about dinner finally being ready. megumi had been calm throughout the evening, peacefully asleep and content with his binky and wolf-themed pacifier.
“look man, just think about i said,” toji speaks up once he’s about to step out of the room, pacing around in circles to keep megumi asleep, “pregnancy’s hard and shit—” understatement of the year, “—so think about ‘er and how she’s feeling instead of making it about you.”
gojo’s getting all the moments that he’s missing out on, the moments that he should be by your side. that’s the only thought that runs through his head while he’s speeding down the street, making his way over to your dorm.
sukuna doesn’t get out of the car upon arriving, though. lets the engine run on idle, fingertips tapping against the leather steering wheel to the song playing over the speakers. the song ends far too quickly for his taste, going to the next one up on his playlist. his fingers still against the wheel.
he came here to demand something he isn’t entitled to and he doesn’t even know what to say to you.
“yo, what the fuck are you doing with that nerd?” too aggressive, even he can begrudgingly admit that part.
“c’mon ma. i’ll do anything to be part of the baby’s life again, i swear on my ps5.” too pathetic by his standards.
his hands run through his hair, pink strands sticking up in nearly direction but up right. far too messy for his liking. he runs his hand through them again, a frustrated groan leaving his lips when they only get more messed up. after a few more times of doing so, he decides to let his hair be. he’s doing everything and anything to avoid getting out of the car just yet, even going as far to check his reflection in the car’s mirror.
a few people stop in their paths to look through the window, confused at the man talking to himself and gesturing to nothing in particular. sukuna looks insane, he’s aware. this is what you’ve led him to. with one quick glare, the people staring are soon enough getting back on their merry way, pretending as if it never happened in the first place.
he crosses the road in quick strides, entering your dorm building as someone else is leaving. the floor smells like stale laundry, food containers spilling out of trash bins outside, paint peeling off the walls in thick sheets. sukuna really needed to figure out a better living arrangement for you.
he approaches the half bored ra sitting at their desk, not even giving him a glance as they continue to scroll through their phone. sukuna clears his throat obnoxiously so, garnering the attention of even those just passing by. “can i help you?”
sukuna gives them your name and a brief description of your appearance, able to get your room number with just a quick search. the elevator’s broken which leaves him going up the stairs, taking two at a time and avoiding the students coming down with heap after heap of laundry in their basket.
he doesn’t knock on the door just yet, listening to the chatter going on inside through paper thin walls. he hears your voice call out to shoko, a small laugh leaving your lips afterwards. it makes his chest clench. he amounts it to heartburn.
he really should stop drinking so much red bull. (it’s not the red bull.)
the longer that he stands here, the more underprepared that he feels. every apology he’d practiced in the car before coming up here faded from his memory, leaving him scrambling to try to find the pieces. the overpriced $10 bouquet he picked up from the gas station (the flowers are dying, he was in a rush), suddenly feels like too little.
just as soon as he’s about to leave your door and resign himself to a life of mediocre hookups and a life of not knowing his kid, he brings his hand up. knock. knock. just two short knocks to disrupt the routine you had going on, to disrupt the noise that was going on inside.
“are you expecting someone?” he hears shoko speak behind the door.
“no, let me check who it is though.”
the door swings open about five seconds the later, the smile on your face quickly fades away at the sight of sukuna standing at your door. your arms cross across your chest defensively, blocking yourself off from him. “what do you want.”
you spoke to sukuna like he was nothing more than a pest, nothing more than just a nuisance. but damn, if you didn’t look beautiful even while you were glaring daggers at him. after seeing only glimpses of you around campus, either with shoko or alone, this was a sight that was more than welcome.
it’s still early on in your pregnancy. maybe three, four months max. but given that the giant in front of you’s nearly seven feet tall, you’re already starting to show. not much, but a little bump peeks out underneath the oversized tee you had on.
you have a soft glow to your face that makeup couldn’t replicate, an aura that he wants nothing more than to bask in for as long as you’d let him. which apparently doesn’t seem like it’ll be long just based on the glare you’re shooting him.
“well?” you prompt, foot tapping against the hardwood floor. right, you wanted to know what he was doing here. sukuna swallowed dryly, holding the door open with his foot before you shut it in front of face. c’mon idiot, speak.
his grip on the bouquet of flowers in hand tightens, knuckles a shade of ghostly white. the flowers pathetically droop to one side, almost as pathetic as he feels standing in front of you again. he extends them out to you, watching as you take them with a wary gaze.
you don’t thank him—sukuna expects that much already, but you don’t throw them away. you simply set them aside like you’re still considering what to do with them. sukuna hopes you’ll give him that same amount of consideration.
he clears his throat, “our last conversation didn’t go well.” that earns a sharp scoff from you, seconds ticking down on an imaginary clock. still, he manages to continue, “i know i said i didn’t wanna be a dad. but i want to be a part of the baby’s life now. go to appointments with you and all the shit you’re doing with gojo.”
“so you’re only doing this because you’re jealous of gojo.” it’s not a question, it’s a simple observation. grass is green. the sky isn’t blue but rather a reflection of the sun’s rays on the earth’s atmosphere. and ryomen sukuna is fucking jealous of satoru gojo.
“yes, i am jealous,” the words come out like they’re being forced out of him, each syllable strained as it leaves his tongue. sukuna’s brows furrow, shaking his head before begrudgingly continuing, “i’m jealous that he’s getting everything i’m not.”
it’s well deserved, a little voice in his head spoke. he immediately shut that one down.
“and who’s fault is that?” you don’t miss the chance to respond, about to say more when your phone buzzes in your pocket. gojo.
five minutes away :3 i brought kikifuku don’t tell shoko
a small, involuntary smile forms on your face at the sight.
it’s become routine at this point—having him take you to your appointments and go out to eat after. maybe study for an upcoming exam, play a round of digimon until you had to keel over the toilet. it hasn’t been easy, by any means, even if you were just starting your first trimester, but shoko and gojo had been a great help through it all.
this month, gojo’s research had informed him that the embryo would start to turn into a fetus. that it would start to move around, grow nails and hair, that it would start to resemble, well, a baby.
“just tell him to fuck off,” sukuna speaks up, glaring at your phone like it personally offended him, “spend the day with me, mama. i’ll take you out and buy some baby clothes or whatever you want.”
you would’ve swooned to hear him say that two months ago. instead, you just feel a throbbing headache pounding at the back of your skull. and a strong urge to just punch him in the mouth. it feels forced—a way to throw even more money in your face after he’d fucked up, that he’d confirmed your worst fear upon approaching him with the news.
and now you’re painfully aware that while the man in front of you has been absent and self centered, gojo had taken it upon himself to be someone that you could grow to depend on. offering a ride without so much as you needing to say a word, holding your hand throughout your appointments. to simply being by your side without complaint.
you couldn’t just bring yourself to tell him to turn around just because the big oaf feels threatened. feels entitled to come back into your life whenever he pleases, whenever he decides it’s not so much of a shame to be around you.
“i’m not going to say no to gojo just because you want to be a part of the baby’s life now,” you respond calmly, measured to a fault, “but if you’re really serious about trying to make this work, come to the baby shower in two weeks.”
not much, but an olive branch. a peace offering to help him prove himself.