18+. rockstar!choso’s girlfriend always gets him caught !
1. HEADLINE #1 : R★CKSTAR CAUGHT GETTING BJ IN THE REC ROOM ?!
in REC room eight, choso kamo is flipping switches while pretending your hands aren’t fondling his cock.
12 PM friday means the rec room heat & choso’s sweaty thighs. choso kamo has his headphones on his ears as sukuna & suguru practice on the other side of the glass pane, but he can’t seem to focus on sukuna’s voice crackling through his speakers. half of his mind’s on his pretty girlfriend perched on the chair beside him, lashes fluttering and skirt bunched up your thighs as your palm rubs at his already swollen cock.
“choso,” you coo sweetly. “i miss you.”
“miss you too, baby,” he rasps, but it’s more of a whimper & your palm rubs just over his throbbing tip as his hips twitch. his eyes are stinging but your touch is warm & choso kamo is in really big trouble.
he reaches for a switch on the board. “trying to work, princess,” he breathes, and you press your thumb to his clothed slit and his head goes all dizzy again. “could you please let me focus?”
his headphones crackle with sukuna’s voice but choso doesn’t hear it. ‘choso, the reverb. can you amp that shit up already?!’
“no,” you huff. “you’re always working. need you so bad, cho—you don’t need me?”
and choso whimpers, because of course he does, because what else is he supposed to do when you zip down his jeans & pull out his swollen, heavy cock? your eyes are glimmering & he’s so fucking hard and there’s already precum smeared over the flushed pink tip. you lick your lips. flash him a smile. “aw, cho. hard for me already?”
he stifles a gasp, cheeks hot. “so hard. mmfph—” you pump him slow & he swallows, hips stuttering against the board. “i’m sorry baby,” he cries, “always need you.”
“are you sure?” you coo, lashes fluttering as your thumb circles his slit. “sukuna will get mad again.”
choso’s lashes are sticky with tears. “he’s always mad—hah—i think.”
you giggle, leaning forward to lick a teasing stripe up his tip. "so you're saying this is fine ?"
choso wants to say yes. he wants to say no. he doesn't know what he wants anymore except your hand on his cock & your voice in his ear and—
BANG!
“hello. what the fuck is taking so long?!”
ryomen sukuna has his guitar slung over him & his lips bent in a frown. choso’s hands fly to his jeans, and you only smile sweetly as sukuna’s eyes dart frantically between your wet lips & choso’s panicked eyes. suguru pokes his head out of the booth; grin clumsy, eyes bright.
“…lock in.” sukuna mutters, and the door slams shut.
2. HEADLINE #2: R★CKSTAR CAUGHT DURING MIDNIGHT SEXCAPADES ?!
choso kamo is too needy for his own good.
it’s 1AM & choso kamo is under hotel sheets with need buzzing between his thighs. the band’s on tour for the nth time this year but choso isn’t thinking about practicing his guitar riff. his phone screen is too bright in his face & his eyes are on your soft thighs, supple breasts, pretty face—and he’s palming himself while staring at pictures of you before he can think any better of it.
but then his phone chimes.
[ BLOOD MOON 🎸]
mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(
choso blinks at the notification, pupils dilating. he clicks it so fast his thumb twitches.
BLOOD MOON 🎸
mine 😊🫀: @ choso i miss you :(
choso: I miss you too, baby. You’re not sleeping yet?
mine 😊🫀: hard to sleep without you touching me.
choso’s cheeks are hot. his cock twitches in his pants. but then his phone chimes again.
BLOOD MOON 🎸
sukuna: Can we not do this in the band gc.
geto🐒: why is she even here i’m dead
mine😊🫀: @ choso my pussy is so wet for you daddy :/
geto🐒 reacted: ⁉️
sukuna: IN MY PUBLIC GC ???
satoru🧿:
——
choso panics—throat bobbing, eyes wide. he quickly switches to texting you privately, face smushed into his pillow & cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
mine ☺️🫀
choso: Baby, why would you text that in the gc?
Satoru will tease me during practice again
And Sukuna already texted saying he’ll beat me up
——-
your text comes in instantly.
mine ☺️🫀: are you mad at me?
i just missed you cho. i won’t text you again since that’s what you want ☹️
choso: What? I said I didn’t want that? When?
I always want you to text me. It makes my day when you do. Please don’t stop texting baby I always want to hear from you.
mine ☺️🫀: let me see your cock
choso: Okay
I’m already hard for you. I was touching myself to your pictures before you texted. You’re so pretty, baby. Miss your pretty face.
[Image_Attachment]
mine ☺️🫀: aww, you’re so cute cho
why not come over and get the real thing ?
choso: I want to, but you’re two hours away. Can I see your breasts?
mine☺️🫀: you can see them if you come over 😚 and you can touch them too pretty boy <3
choso: But I can’t come over. What can I do?!
mine☺️🫀: Suffer
choso: ???
——-
choso stares at the screen, mouth agape, heart in a frenzy. the light is bright against his eyes but choso doesn’t care to dim it. what can he do? he really wants to see your breasts but the circumstances won’t allow it. he bites his lip, thumbs moving before his brain can catch up to them.
choso: Suffer
I’m already suffering, angel. I don’t know how to suffer any harder. Can you please tell me what to do?
mine ☺️🫀: go to sleep choso
choso: But I don’t want to sleep. I want to see your breasts
mine ☺️🫀: then come over
choso: But I can’t
mine ☺️🫀: so why are you still texting me?
choso stares at your text, breath hitching. he glances over at the clock on his nightstand, and the digital display gleams back. 1:17 AM. that’s not too bad. surely he could get there by around three, fuck you till at least four, and get back to the hotel by six.
it’s a stupid plan. but for you choso’s a stupider man, and the next text you send doesn’t help his judgement.
mine☺️🫀: [Image_Attachment]
mine☺️🫀: sneak peek <3
choso’s heart hammers. the picture only shows your tits clad in a pretty pink nightgown, but the material is too sheer & choso can see everything. the soft swell of your breasts. your nipples pebbled and peaking through the fabric. the way your arm is tucked underneath your tits to push them together into the camera. choso’s mouth dries. his breathing goes ragged & his cock goes heavy against his leg. he’s still gawking at your picture when his phone chimes again.
mine☺️🫀: my new nightgown’s so thin :( i don’t know why you can see my tits through it
choso thinks your nightgown is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
choso: your nipples are so pretty, baby
he sucks in a breath, taking one last sorry glance at the clock.
choso: I’m coming over.
choso doesn’t wait for a reply. he’s already scrambling to fit a tank top over his bare chest, tugging socks over his feet & shoving them into slippers. the hallway is dark and quiet, and choso takes one last look at your perky tits on his screen before clicking his phone off & shoving it into his pockets. he sucks in a breath. let’s do this.
two hallways right. one staircase down—not the elevator because it’s way too loud—and then another hallway to reach the lobby. choso knows the hotel layout like the back of his hand. he slips into the corridor, steps quiet against the hardwood, and the staircase is right there—
“late night, kamo?”
choso stops before he can bump right into sukuna.
ryomen sukuna is not impressed—and neither are the two boys behind him. geto’s piercings are glimmering in the heat. satoru has a smile too cruel to be kind. they stand on either side of a crossed sukuna, hands in their pockets, grins lazy-cruel.
choso gulps, eyes flitting between them. “uhm, i just needed some water—“
“back to your room, lover boy,” suguru whistles, thumb pointing to satoru. “unless you want to be smacked upside the head?”
satoru is cracking his knuckles with a grin.
“no thank you,” choso says too fast, too sheepish. his cheeks are peach tinged. “and what do you mean by lover boy? i was only—“
“save it,” sukuna growls, cocking his head. “the walls are thin as fuck, idiot. you think i didn’t hear you beating your shit and whining into your pillow in the next room over?”
choso’s throat bobs. sukuna pads closer to his shaky figure.
“back to your room,” sukuna’s hot breath tickles choso’s nose, “and don’t let me catch you in these halls again.”
3. HEADLINE #3 : R★CKSTAR CAUGHT HAVING SEX AFTER SETS ?!
on stage, choso kamo is half-boy, half-heartbreak.
at least, that’s what the fangirls say when he plays like this. mic cord in his mouth. hair soaked & sweat sticky. mascara smeared down his cheeks & a riff so loud it makes you feverish. on blood moon’s stage, choso kamo plays the electric guitar like his life depends on it. sukuna’s singing blares more like a roar. geto is on bass & satoru on the drums.
choso hasn’t seen you since the set started.
not in the crowd, or the lobby, or the soft space behind the old stairwell where he likes to kiss you dizzy. he’s trudging through backstage now, guitar strapped heavy on his back, steps slow & breath heaving because the adrenaline hasn’t worn off & he’s still half-high. where the fuck is his girlfriend?
but then he sees you on the amp.
and choso’s first thought is glitter. lots of it. sticky on your lip and your chin and your hair and your face. he pads towards you with bleary eyes and you welcome him with a teasing smile.
“hi, choso.”
“Hi,” his arms bracket your hips. “you look shiny.”
you giggle, hand curling into his necklace as he trails sloppy kisses to your jawline. choso kisses like a dog, tongue wet & breath sticky. “you’re so hot,” he rasps. “so fucking hot—mmh—m’dizzy.”
you let him kiss your lips. “can’t do this here,” he murmurs against them. “can i take you away, baby? behind the stairs?”
his eyes are soft and pleading. he talks like he’s asking but his hands are already hoisting you up & lifting you into his chest before you can tell him no. you cup his face. smush his cheeks. “impatient, are we?”
“sorry,” his cheeks are pressed together in your palms so his voice comes out strangled. “missed you.”
choso isn’t sorry. he’s stumbling past workers & crew alike while pressing sloppy kisses to your hot mouth. his tongue slobbers and drags while his hands press into your thighs, thumb climbing higher to graze circles on your hips. he nearly trips over two cables but you laugh into his mouth and choso kamo has never been happier. “you’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “so pretty.”
he finally reaches the stairwell. the closet door just under it is blue & peeling, and choso kicks it open with his mouth on your throat. he pulls back to stare at you and his gaze is soft. his eyes lift to stare into the room as you kiss his cheek.
his band members stare at him back.
ryomen sukuna has his arms crossed & his back against a wooden shelf. gojo satoru is sat criss-cross on a table with his lips in a grin. suguru stands beside him, leaned back lazily against said table with his lip piercing glimmering in the heat. and right there in the center, manager toji fushiguro has his arms folded over his chest, temu wristwatch catching the light.
choso drops you very slowly.
his eyes flit between his band mates, cheeks already blood drenched. he’s still gripping your skirt when he sets you down beside him. you whack his hand away and shift behind him to hide.
geto grins. “hey, lover boy.”
choso leans back into you slightly. he whispers over his shoulder, “baby—it’s a trap!”
he doesn’t need to tell you. you can fucking see that.
sukuna steps forward. he’s not even angry—shocking, honestly—he’s bored. steps lazy, gaze half-lidded. “told ya, fushiguro. our band’s lead guitarist is always in fucking heat.”
choso squeaks, gripping your skirt. “i wasn’t gonna fuck her!”
sukuna glances back at the others. “who is he lying to?”
toji sighs, shaking his head. he shoves his hands into his pockets, expression bored. “look, kid—“ he glances up, “your band mates and i don’t care about you being a horndog. we care that you’re letting it get in the way of your responsibilities.”
satoru perks up, tongue clicking. “you were supposed to head straight to the van after the set. but here you are trying to get some pussy…”
you lean up on your toes, just enough to poke your head up behind choso’s shoulder. satoru grins when he sees your face. suguru gives you a soft wave.
“hi,” your voice is shy. “this is my fault. sorry about him.”
“don’t sweat it, princess,” toji waves you off, fake ice glimmering on his wrist. “our business is with your boyfriend, not you.”
you nod shyly, disappearing behind choso yet again. sukuna huffs through his nose. “choso, got anything to say for yourself?”
choso looks around. at gojo and geto’s sleazy grins, toji’s deadpan face, sukuna’s lazy gaze. the room is hot but his cheeks are hotter. he swallows, blood sticky in his throat.
“i’m sorry,” he croaks. “it won’t happen again.”
sukuna doesn’t let him off. “what won’t happen again?”
choso grips your skirt behind him, swallowing. you squeeze your thighs around his palm to reassure him & choso gulps yet again.
“won’t fuck my girl while on duty. or let her jerk me off in the rec rooms. or try to sneak off to see her.”
your eyes widen behind him. he did not have to mention the rec room!
toji nods. then he checks his wrist—the temu wristwatch says it’s time to go. “alright, we’re done here. you boys be in the van in five. i got somewhere to be.”
he trudges past you and a frozen choso, kicking the door open to leave.
the boys follow suit. satoru hops off the table, grinning. “nice one, cho!” he smacks choso’s arm as he walks past. sukuna bumps choso’s side lazily. suguru slings an arm over your shoulders to steer you to the van with the rest of them.
in the closet, choso kamo has his feet frozen in place and his face contorted in horror.
content: popstar!reader x actor!sukuna - you had been quite infatuated with ryomen sukuna. unbeknownst to you, the feeling was mutual. if you were obsessed first..how come he was so much worse?
ryomen sukuna. oh, you knew him. everybody knew him in fact, though you felt you knew him better than anybody else. you were his biggest fan, an obsessive freak hidden behind a glittery mic and a sparkly smile. everyone knew you..but did he know you? that was the only thing that really started to matter in your life, him.
what kind of slacking agency would let the world’s most cherished pop star fall in love with a husk, disaster of a man? he was a cigarette, and you were the poor, poor, addict. cigarettes..he always held them so nicely. the way his lips pursed when he blew out smoke, the way he held them so effortlessly and lazily in his hands. the most mundane things appealed you when it came to him. more so, how you couldn’t figure him out.
sukuna wasn’t misunderstood, it’s just that he simply couldn’t be understood. some interviews, he was rash and gravely—others, he was kind or seductive. confusing his fans and the whole film background in general had become his reputation, his mission.
maybe that’s why he had so many fans. what kind of girl wouldn’t obsess over a badass, ripped actor? such a silly thought, and yet you got yourself foolishly caught up in it all. knowing of his existence was what halted your entire life, your entire career. your agency wasn’t to blame, well, you had only yourself to blame. that and another person.
shoko—your manager.
she really set you up there. the day she showed you a movie starring ryomen sukuna was the day your whole life crumbled and contorted into a core of obsession and yearning. your dreams had completely shifted, it was shameful and worrying how much he influenced what you did.
“are you seriously making me watch a romance film? since when were you into that stuff?” you teased, your arms trapping a pillow against your chest. mandatory movie nights were a system you set up! that way, boring managing talk wouldn’t ruin your friendship with her. it was shoko’s turn to pick a movie, and you weren’t pleased! well, yet.
shoko blew spoke out of her pink lips, like some sort of beautiful humidifier. “maybe it’ll inspire you to write something other than sad, doomed music.” she angled, the tips of her lips quirking up in preparation to wrap around her cigarette. how cunning. “plus, i think there’s an actor you’ll like in there. he’s totally your type.”
now that caught your attention. you raised an eyebrow, easing the grip on your plush pillow to a gentle embrace. “i didn’t know it was my manager’s job to hook me up with some actor.”
shoko huffed out a laugh, accompanied by smoke, of course. “you’re cute. you’ll have to put in the work for this one.” she said, almost informing. she pressed play on the movie, and the previous pit of dread in your stomach had lifted a bit.
not even ten minutes in and you were ruined. this was easily the sexiest guy to ever bless your eyes—was he real? what kind of ritual-love-spell was put into the air while creating this creature? your eyes were blown so wide it made you look like a goldfish, your entire frontal lobe was shattering and rebuilding itself in the most self destructive way. shoko dabbed at the drool trickling off your bottom lip before you even realized it was there.
“hot, right?”
“i’d suck him dry, shoko. dry.”
a startled and delighted gasp left her. “you’re ridiculous! get in line, sweet pea.” she laughed, patting your head. “maybe you should dm him or something?”
“you want me dead, miss manager.” you sighed. trying to snatch the remote from her. “turn this off, i’m jealous of the female actress.”
shoko easily clicked off the movie, unaware of the turmoil she had caused.
but..what about sukuna? did he know you? why, of course he did! his best friend, satoru gojo, could be blamed.
sukuna had been invited to collab with some kind of cigarette company—being that famous for smoking is quite an impressive feat! he was in the dressing room letting gojo assist him with his hair.
assist was a pathetic way to describe gojo, the man was scrolling on his phone and leaving his friend to struggle. stalking girls on instagram was clearly a priority..evidently he didn’t know he was best friends with the biggest stalker on earth. sukuna couldn’t even growl out a complain about gojo’s uselessness before he was interrupted.
“dude, have you seen this chick?” he asked, proceeding to..not show his phone. greed! “she’s a pop star, sexy as hell—i’m telling you!”
sukuna, meanwhile, was putting gel in his hair in a way only he could make look so furious. “show me the damn phone then, dumbass.” he reached behind, snatching it for himself while gojo squawked like a bird.
pulled up on the screen was your instagram, to which sukuna’s features tightened at. you were stunning—more than that. more than anything he’d ever seen. he never really busied himself with girls and recent times, he was more known for that at the beginning of his career. but this was different.
lust, heat, desire, obsession—it all swirled low in his gut like a twisted flame. his feelings were a black hole, and he found himself unable to resist it. how he developed obsession was peculiar. usually, such feelings would take time to develop, at least more than ten seconds. but just from seeing a photo of you, sukuna knew. he knew that he’d have you one way or another, that, he was confident in.
“holy shit.” he breathed, gripping the phone so tight gojo was sure he’d be at the phone store later on his behalf. “a pop star, you said? how the hell do i not know of her?”
gojo looked down, the visible boner in sukuna’s pants made a shit eating grin form on his lovely features. “i mean, she’s not really your type, man.” he shrugged, making no attempt to snatch the phone back. “maybe you should dm her!”
sukuna clicked his tongue, sending your account to himself before handing the phone back. “does your head live in your ass?“ he rubbed his head, ruining his practically manufactured hair. “..i’ll consider.”
“maybe you should consider getting rid of that tent in your pants before shooting a commercial. unless that’s your guest speaker.”
“maybe i should CONSIDER shooting YOU!”
it got quite messy from here. since the day you discovered him, you binge watched every movie he starred in, even ones he had a single scene in. though, those weren’t common. if sukuna was in a movie, he was the whole plot. that was in your favor.
late at night, you found yourself with your hand between your thighs, replaying was scenes from his movies over, and over, and over. your lyric notes would lay discarded elsewhere completely, neglected and unimportant. you’d go until your thighs shook, until your cunt felt numb and achy. you’d imagine it was him that made you so sore, instead of your stalking self.
god, how you wished it was you. how you wished it was his bare chest pressed against yours, how you wished it was him filling up your needy pussy so nicely instead of your cold fingers. the desire to hear how he actually moaned was unbearable. you envied those actors, so much. but when you pretended it was you, it almost numbed it—just enough to let you cum.
was sending him a photo of your wet pussy too far? maybe your refrain on that.
on the other side, whenever sukuna heard a song of yours, all he could wonder was how that pretty voice of yours would sound moaning. were you loud? quiet? high pitched? breathy? he had to know, just had to. he started refusing to do sex roles in fear he’d imagine the girl as you, and totally wreck them. your posts, your interviews, he studied them. did your face on his computer screen count as studying? even when he’d shoot loads of cum on it?
talk shows, interviews. messy. messy. messy. you even found yourself pathetically releasing a single about yearning for somebody. how utterly foolish you had become.
you wanted him to ruin your life. but the truth was, he already did. subconsciously.
but then the letters came, from both sides. you sent them first, anonymously, secret admirer style. surely he’d discard them as another random fangirl trying to get in his pants, but you didn’t mind. you told him how obsessed you were with him, how you needed him so bad the ache became physical and settled between your thighs—ah! new lyric idea!
you told him that you watched every one of his movies, that you were tempted to show up at his house, that you’d build a music career off him. safe to say, you were losing it. and shoko didn’t know a thing, thankfully. you’d be in deep shit.
gojo was going through sukuna’s mail one day, just out of nosy curiosity. he picked a stack of your letters, unopened. he carefully peeled back the paper to reveal messily written love confessions—and maybe crime ones too.
“yo, ryomen.” he waved the paper up, “you’ve got a true fan here, dude. she’s obsessed.” his eyes found the paper again, reading the part about music. “call me crazy but..i think it’s that popstar you’ve been drooling over. she’s talking about making music dedicated to you.”
that got his attention. he whipped his head around so fast the muscles grew taut and achy. “let me see that.” the paper was out of gojo’s grip on seconds, as sukuna’s eyes read over every like.
music. make music about him—no way. “holy shit, you really think it’s her?” god, he was a fucking animal. his pants were already starting to feel uncomfortable. “fuck, god i hope she’s stalking me. that’s the only stalker i want.”
gojo huffed out a laugh, though it was mainly disbelief. “jesus, man. you’re twisted.”
you managed to get through another tour successfully—as in..no visible mishaps apparent to the public!
a letter you had received replayed in your mind for a shameful count of hours. it was a love letter, the idea was that this guy wanted to have sex with you, which wasn’t unusual. the catch was, he talked about making a movie with you. a movie? but what if he just meant porn? something in your soul was telling you that you struck gold anyway, to follow your delusions
the after party. one you’d been looking forward to. drowning your feelings in alcohol had never appeared so enticing. you wanted forget the stress, forget him. forget the way his body looked, forget that sultry stare of his. a few drinks down, and you found yourself in the same spot.
“nice show, sweetheart.” a gravelly voice echoed behind you—a voice you couldn’t mistake for anybody else. your soul tied husband.
you whipped around so fast the fruity drink in your glass spilled over the edges. you were in the presence of sukuna, the man you had been dreaming of, the man who had consumed your life by just existing—and you were utterly frozen. “oh my-holy shit-!” you gaped. “ryomen sukuna?! what are you doing here?”
no, this wasn’t real. did the bartender lace your drink? surely he was just there for the fun of the party..though the tension swarming him like a swarm of wasps made you doubt it. you were getting in your head again.
sukuna couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you—the girl he practically tracked down. that wasn’t the right word, every move was intentional. he’d been watching you for awhile, he documented every tour date, every plausible after party, absolutely any way he could get his hands on you. and there you were, looking even better in person. his facade was careful and constructed, he didn’t let the fact he was reeling show on his face at all.
“i happen to be a fan.” he held his cigarette near his lips, his signature. “y’kickin’ me out?”
“no—god, no!” did you seriously say that out loud? fuck! “i-im so surprised you’re here! i wasn’t expecting this at all. thanks for being a fan..” how awkward.
he snorted, taking a drag of his cigarette. you wished his lips would purse around your clit like that. shameful. “are you a fan of me?”
a fan? you declared him your husband—soulmate, even. “big fan.” you replied.
he smiled, smoke permeating through the air between you like some sort of love spell, a spell neither of you needed. so you did know him..that was good. “big fan, huh? i’m honored, you look gorgeous.”
your clit jumped in your panties at that, this couldn’t be real. the club started to feel unbearably hot, all the heat settling in the one place it shouldn’t. “why thank you!” you smiled sweetly, hiding the way you eyed him up and down like a piece of meat. meat you wanted to tear into. “i could say the same about you. did you dress up for me?”
sukuna seemed appealed—almost worryingly so. “why? would that please you?” his voice was a purr, fuck, how maddening. “maybe i did. i can’t say i didn’t plan on seeing you here.” plot was a better word, but he didn’t say that out loud.
your heart immediately started racing, every thump rattling every nerve and flaming vein in your body. “planning on seeing me? do you want an autograph or something?” you giggled, trying to recover from your inner turmoil.
“nah..” his ringed fingers twitched and ached to find the warmth of your body. “no, more than that.”
a pause.
“y’happen to write letters, sweetheart?” there was a grin plastered on his sexy face, though it looked unhinged and eager. how odd, usually reading the kind of confessions you put in those letters would deeply disturb someone, but not him.
oh, you were so fucked. how did he know? were you that obvious? your body pushed for even a sprout of shame to eat at you, but..there was none. no, it wasn’t shame you felt, it was excitement.
you didn’t care at the time you wrote it, since you never thought you’d encounter him like this, let alone be confronted. that was the difference between you and sukuna. he knew he’d encounter you, knew you’d find out it was him that said all those things—and that’s why he did it.
“yeah..i happen to write letters quite often, actually.” you admitted, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth.
“is that right?” a grumbly laugh left him, the sheer expanse of his smile made you sure it’d snap. “i do to.”
you’re face visibly contorted. the pure shock and disbelief in your eyes had changed into something that mirrored his own. obsession wasn’t a strong enough word, but the tension that settled there could make your glass shake.
“wait, you—“
“—yeah, baby. i write you too.” somehow, he had gotten close to you. his usual cold eyes absorbed every wave of excitement you could offer. “is it true? you wish you could do a sex scene with me in a movie?”
a thick glob of saliva forced its way down your throat with an audible gulp. you quickly tried to recover, despite the fact your whole body burner with so much thrill you were sure you’d catch fire. “is it true you want to hear how i sound when i moan?”
his grin was all teeth and dark satisfaction, it settled in his gut like poison—poison he had created with his own thick, obsessive thoughts. it was like a curse brewing inside him, ready to destroy everything in his life he’d worked for. he was a king of curses in that way.
“touché.” he laughed behind his glass, the bob of his throat when swallowing was like some sort of sick hypnotic practice. “if i knew it was you stalking me, i would’ve come sooner.”
if you knew it was him sending those letters, you would’ve sent him nudes already! one of those practiced laughs left your body, the kind you’d let yourself give out like candy during something like a talk show.
“well you’re here now. so..now what?” you asked, setting your drink down. your full attention was on him, which was something he clearly liked.
“now what? you’ll give me your number so we can arrange something.” he wasnt asking, this wasn’t a request. it was scary how aware he was of your feelings towards him. you were being perceived with more intensity than your PR team. his ringed hand found your lower back easily, god, it took everything in you to not pounce on him.
you plucked the pen you’d been using to sign things off the open part of your dress, dragging the tip down his chest. he wore an open buttoned shirt, so naturally you wrote your number in the dead center. “call me.” you winked, as if this wasn’t everything you’d been waiting for. that cool minded facade could only be held for so long, so you found yourself speed walking towards the bathroom to scream.
and just like that, you had placed yourself in the palm of ryomen sukuna’s hand—just like you wanted. but things didn’t settle down from there, oh no, it only got messier. it was only a matter of time before the rumors started to spread, social media had a way of pairing celebrities together based on appearances alone. was that why there were edits and fanarts of the two of you? or could everyone feel the same tension you could?
what you weren’t expecting was sukuna to be all on your case like he was your new manager. he texted you all day long, and if you didn’t respond he’d start to call you. one date turned into two, then three, then four. how you didn’t end up in his sheets by then was beyond you, though you were unaware of the need he had to worm his way into your brain first.
this whole situation was basically permission for him to completely invade your life. he’d send you photos from outside your window, commenting on how sexy you looked and how bad he needed you. when you’d find him, he would be there with some sort of gift for you—buying your affection as if your obsession wasn’t enough for him.
you had gotten used to many of his sides within the first week.
“why were you talking to that guy? i saw you eyeing him.”
“you’re so perfect, baby. the most important thing in my life.”
“send me another photo. i’m close.”
“i’ll fucking kill that bastard of a host. tell your manager you can’t do talk shows with guys anymore.”
he knew you were obsessed with him, yet he felt the need to come out on top anyways.
you weren’t much better, no, not at all. you made it a mission to be the number one priority in his life. not talking to him for even a moment filled your soul with dread, he was a drug you couldn’t quit.
“please hurry up, i miss you.”
“kuna i can’t focus please talk to me, i need you.”
“i’ll burn those other letters myself. get rid of them, you don’t need the attention of other girls.”
things he said started to influence everything you did. if he liked pink on you? suddenly, every post you made for a week straight would star a pink outfit. he liked a perfume you wore? the bottle would be empty in days. and god, you didn’t mind.
you ended up at his place again—of course you did. you were sitting on the couch with him, letting his hand lazily trace your thigh. your eyes found his crimson ones, and you seemed to reflect the same feeling.
“i want you to reject that role you were offered.” you said, “i can’t handle you being even fake romantic with another girl.”
like clockwork, he grinned. “is that right? such a jealous girl.” his fingertips bit into your skin, “if that’ll please you, i’ll do it.”
a smile finally crept onto your face. “i love when you try to please me.” it was true, he chased after your approval and affection like a dog. no matter how hard he tried to act like he was in power, he wasn’t in that way.
“i’d do lots to please you, baby.” he murmured, hand snaking further upward. that was also true, you couldn’t name a thing he wouldn’t do. the fire in his eyes had never once dimmed, not a single time.
you raised an eyebrow at that, placing your hand on top of his. “lots, huh? like what? quit acting?” you teased, but the way he didn’t laugh made you confused. surely he wouldn’t go that far, right? did he expect he same?
“i would.” he admitted, something more eager rising in his chest as he studied your face. “or, i’d make you feel like you’re one of the girls in my movies. make you feel so damn good you can’t think of jealousy, only me.”
he didn’t let you respond. “would you quit music to please me?”
that..was the question. you weren’t sure you would. your hesitance brought a cold to his eyes you hadn’t seen before. you ducked your head nervously, a practiced smile tugging at your features with even more practiced grace. “well..i’m not sure. music is my passion.”
that didn’t sit with sukuna. he wanted to be the first thing, he couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied. “i could give you more than that. passion can’t even describe what i could give you.”
you didn’t doubt him, but you played along anyway. “then give it to me, show me how much you should be worth in my life.”
somewhere between the lines, you ended up in his bedroom. he had you pinned against the door, unable to even make it to his bed first before overwhelming you. his lips were pressed urgently against yours, kissing you with so much hunger you almost couldn’t keep up.
his tongue massaged yours like he was trying to own it, map out what he intended to take full control over. he kissed you like he was trying to extract your soul through his lips, just so he could have it all to himself.
all to himself..that’s all he wanted. he’d give anything away to have that. he bit your bottom lip, tongue darting out to taste your metallic blood while sucking in your weak little gasps.
your fists were balled up on his chest, the fabric of his shirt caught between your fingers. his breath was warm, his saliva a sick poison you let him inject you with. drool dripped down your chin, oxygen hardly even entering your burning lungs.
he pulled away to let you breathe, his large hand covering the entire bottom half of your face. your eyes, that’s all he looked at. “god, such pretty eyes. fuckin’ lovesick, huh?” your nod only fueled him, “y’think you can handle me? that confident?”
you kissed his palm, which made him release his hold. “i trust you. and i want you even if there’s a possibility i can’t handle it.” god, it was like you were purposely handing yourself into a curse, one that would ruin the harmony of everything in your life and leave him there, on top where he belonged.
his smirk was sharp, all teeth and morbidity. “you shouldn’t trust me, baby. but the fact you do makes me want to do disgusting things to you. so keep fuckin’ trusting me.”
“i trust you, kuna.”
“i know you do, m’so damn glad y’do.”
he was kissing you again not even a second later, his tongue shoving its way between your lips to make you overwhelmed on purpose. your teeth clanked against his due to the sheer messiness and uncoordinated desperation between you two, though neither of you stuttered once.
you pulled away, attempting to sink to your knees. he quickly grabbed your jaw, forcing you upright. “ah, ah. where’re you going, sweetheart?”
a pathetic noise left you, half whimper, half sob. “please—“ another sob, “please, please i wanna suck your dick. pleaseletmesuckyourdick—!”
sukuna laughed, almost mockingly so. “oh? you wanna suck my cock?” he queried, his hands mapping out your body direly. “m’not done with you yet.”
his hands fisted the fabric of your shirt, before ripping the fabric clean off your body. there was no time to mourn your shirt. his hands found your breasts easily, kneading them in his palms carefully. “i’ve always wanted to touch you right here. right on these sweet nipples.” he breathed, pinching your left nipple between his pointer finger and thumb enough to make you yelp.
he grinned wolfishly at the noise, his other hand continuing to toy with your other tit. “always wondered how fuckin’ loud you’d shriek when i played with them.” he pinched again to prove his point, making you squeal, “jus’ like that..”
“e-ease up, god!” you panted, but not once did you move away. this was everything you wanted, more than that.
in seconds you found yourself looking down at the man you were infatuated with, since he had lowered himself down to catch your tit in his mouth. his tongue teased the hard bud of your nipple, sucking hard enough for you to suck in a hiss of air. his other hand moved down, groping your ass with so much eagerness you nearly stumbled forward.
it wasn’t long before your nipples started to feel sore, among other things. you weakly tugged on his hair, trying to pull him off. “k-kuna..i-i—mghh! can’t..” you whimpered, though your efforts were useless. he was like a blood drunken leech.
eventually he realized you were tugging on him, and pulled away from your raw nipple with a pop! he looked up at you with a lazy smirk, drool dripping down his chin. “sorry, sweet girl, got distracted.” he planted one final kiss between your breasts before standing up. “still wanna give me head?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. he was already palming his bulge.
you nodded almost desperately, your knees hitting the ground not even a moment later. your eyes found his from below, as you kissed on his clothed outer thigh. “can you take your shirt off? please?” you requested, already undoing his belt.
sukuna had his shirt over his head in seconds—anything to please you, right? by the time he looked down, you had already pulled his pants halfway down. he helped you get them off, before holding his heavy cock in his hand right before your airy face.
god, he was big. just like you imagined. it was enough to make your jaw ache from the weight, that much you knew already. enough to stretch you out and plug you up so good.
he slapped the tip against your face, spreading his precum all over your cheek as you whimpered. “you wanna please me, baby? want my cum down your throat?”
“i do, baby. so much.”
“then show me. take my cock like a fuckin’ slut.”
a whine left your dry throat at that, as your tongue darted out and slotted right on his sensitive slit. you kitty licked the tip, wrapping your lips around it just enough to make him groan. his hand easily found your hair, though he didn’t push you. peppered kisses were planted down the heavy length of his cock, your tongue tracing the veins as if to memorize their respective placements
“holy shit..” he breathed, running his fingers through your hair. “good girl..good fuckin’ girl. take me, baby. all of me.”
you looked up at him again, keeping eye contact as you took more of him. your head bobbed back and forth, and god, you made the filthiest slurping sounds. the heavy weight of him strained your jaw, but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to.
there you were, your mouth stuffed full with the man of your fantasy’s cock. not once did you break eye contact, not with the way he was looking at you. his hand on your head urged you, making you find a quick pace.
sukuna groaned lowly, before pulling you off carefully. he watched desperation and devastation flood your irises, a string of saliva still connecting you to the head. “i want my autograph.”
your eyebrow visibly arched at that, what the hell was he talking about. you tried to put his cock back in your mouth, but he held you still, expecting you to answer. “y-yeah, okay, please just—kuna i wanna—“
“you’ll give me an autograph.” he said, eyes darting down, then back up to meet yours once again. “right on my dick, baby. sign your name there, it’s yours.”
your heart caught in your chest, drool dripping off your bottom lip inevitably. “mine..” you whispered, the feeling of his grip loosening on your hair was a sign for you to move again. he was right, it was yours. all of him was yours and yours only.
your tongue found the underside of his cock again, drawing lines of spit down every inch of them. the tip of the muscle grew taut, you closed your eyes to remember what your signature looked like.
sukuna tugged your hair once, tutting with that almost unsettling smirk on his face. “ah, ah, eyes on me.” he scolded, watching intently as tears gathered on your waterline.
a whimper left you at that, something that had become routine. your tongue started slowly tracing a path down his cock, signing your name right there, right where it belonged. it wasn’t visible, but he could feel it.
“that’s not right, baby. do it again.”
you did, a sob leaving your stuffed mouth. your tongue was starting to become tired and achy.
“no, try again. i have it memorized too, sweet girl. don’t you want to please me?” his voice was a mocking thing, and it was enough to make tears stream down your face.
eventually you got it right, though your tongue was numb and feeble. you bobbed your head slower, drool slicking your chin and everything else in its wake. he took the initiative to start thrusting into the warm heat of your mouth, that way you didn’t have to do any more work.
“jus’ stay still for me, let me..haah..d-do it.” he panted, groaning at the sight of your teary face. “so pretty crying f’me, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
perfect. so badly you just wanted to be perfect for him. hearing that praise did something to you—no it did a lot to you. with his words of praise, and his dick in your throat, you came completely untouched. you whined, eyes rolling back as your lips tightened around his intruding cock. your panties had become a soiled mess sticking to your dripping cunt. humiliating and sticky.
and oh, sukuna loved it. that just about doubled him over. “h-holy shit..mmh..you’re such a fuckin’ slut..” he husked, slamming into your throat hard enough to make you gag around him. the little convulsion of your throat did it for him, and he spilled spurts of cum all down your throat, painting it white with his sticky seed.
the feeling or his warm cum flooding your throat was everything you could’ve hoped for. you’d been stalking him for so long, analyzing him, watching him. wondering how he’d grace your tastebuds when you finally had him.
you pulled off his cock with a pop, a filthy string of cum and saliva departing you. it snapped onto your chin, to which he immediately wiped off with his thumb. his hand lingered on your cheek, evidently, the sight of you on your knees before him was enthralling.
naturally, you were zoned out. the only thing that snapped you out of it was when you felt your back hit the mattress. sukuna loomed over you like some sort of devil, nearly shrouding you.
“still with me?” he asked, patting your thigh. when he received your nod of confirmation, he smiled, pointer and middle finger hooking around the hem of your pants. “need to see what you’ve been hiding from me.”
you lifted your hips up to accommodate him, allowing your shorts to be slid down your shaky legs. if you actually allowed yourself to send that nude awhile back, this would be far less special. however, you didn’t see yourself getting in his sheets ever. life was surprising in that way.
the cold air cooling your slick cunt made you shiver against his hands, nipples hardened once again. but his expression was what really got you. his jaw muscles had grown tense and taut, his pupils were blown so wide he looked drugged. oh, he was ruined before even doing anything. pussy drunk without even indulging.
“fuckin’ hell..” he breathed, running the same two fingers through your sopping pussy as he did to discard your pants. he gathered your juices onto his fingers, the way you twitched against them made him groan. his tongue met them halfway, sucking them clean with so much vigor it made you whimper. his cock twitched the second he tasted you.
“such a pretty pussy, she’s crying f’me too.” he was grinning again, “my fuckin’ pussy, yeah?”
“y-yeah” you replied, writhing as he practically cupped your whole cunt in his hand like he was trying to extract it.
sukuna’s fingers teased your pussy, lubing up his fingers with your own slick. one finger pressed teasingly at your entrance, putting weight on the nerves just to see you squirm. as he slowly eased in one of his digits, you sucked him in greedily.
“tell me,” he started, slowly thrusting his thick finger in and out of your weeping hole. “how many guys have you had sex with?”
the question made you jolt—what was he talking about? “what are you—“ a squeal tore from you when he aggressively slammed back in, this time with two fingers.
“i don’t want to know.” he laughed, thumb finding your puffy clit. “they were practice for me, that’s all. did they matter to you?”
“..not anymore.”
“i like that answer, that’s my good girl.” he purred, curling his fingers deep inside your squelching heat. he pressed right up against your g-spot, sending your back arching towards him with a weak cry.
you watched with half lidded eyes as he reached off somewhere else, slightly upset you didn’t have his full attention. his hand returned, but with a phone.
instinctively your eyes widened—he wanted to film this? a rush of excitement flooded your quivering body, and you smiled at him. “y-you..haah..wanna film this?”
sukuna was delighted by your eagerness, slamming his fingers in hard enough to make you jolt. juices spilled around the base of where his skin met your leaking hole, god, what a sight.
“wanna have your moans for later. you know how hard i fuck my fist just to your face?” god, you didn’t know. but you wanted to. he pressed record, starting to finger you harder. the camera picked up all your sweet sounds, as well as the even sweeter sight or your fucked out face.
“fuck..mmh, god!” you whined, pushing back against his fingers greedily. “y-yeah..you said so in your letters.” you panted, loving the way he looked at you instead of your recorded self.
a strained laugh left his throat at that, his thumb pressing down on your clit and rolling it. “want you to sample these sounds baby, sneak ‘em in a song.” he groaned at the thought, grip on the phone tight, “can you do that for me?”
you nodded without hesitation, breathing getting heavier as he abused the perfect spot inside you with every curl of his fingers. “a-anything..i’ll do anything f’you..”
“yeah? even cum all over my fingers?” he asked, keeping his unfair pace steady. “give it to me, baby.”
“k-kuna!” you squealed, kicking your legs once more uselessly as you came undone. your walls clamped around his fingers, juices gushing out around the base. he fucked you though it until your foot was weakly pushing at his chest for mercy. the video was turned off immediately after your orgasm, he needed both hands on you.
sukuna extracted his fingers, filthy strings of slick following him. his hand immediately went to his cock, pumping it a few times and using your cum as lube. “y’ready for me, baby?” he asked, pressing the head against your overstimulated hole.
despite that, you still nodded, spreading your thighs further for him before wrapping them around his waist. as if to urge him inside you faster. “mmh..please..”
any other time, he’d probably make you specify what you wanted—but he needed to be inside you too bad for that. he slowly pushed in, the tip of his cock was thick and heavy, the stretch stung and made you suck in a hiss of air. “fuckkkk..!” you whined, panting as he filled your tight pussy to the aching brim.
sukuna groaned, pushing inch by inch until he was as deep as he could go. “so damn tight..god, what a perfect pussy.” he breathed, his hands grabbing at your hips. “s’this what you dreamed of? to be stuffed full of my cock?”
you nodded quickly, salty tears streaming down your cheeks. he leaned forward, collecting the droplets on his tongue—he couldn’t waste any of you. his lips stayed on your face, as if to butter you up before he ruined you. “i dreamed of it too. but unlike you, i knew i’d have you one way or another.”
he pulled out slowly, setting a leisure pace so he didn’t hurt you. he knew he was too big to get reckless. his tip dragged along your slick walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“kuna…” you panted, legs tightening around him. “m’good now..you can—“ you were cut off by an almost punishing thrust, one that sent your tits bouncing and your back arching.
he began to fuck into you like an animal, each ruthless drive of his hips had you sobbing and clawing at his back helplessly. god, it felt so good. the feeling of him ruining you, the sound of skin slapping every time he fucked into you, all of it. it was filthy the way you moaned for him, long strings and chains of pleas poured out of you like a faucet.
“that’s it, baby. get loud for me.” he panted, sweat gulfing down his broad chest. he yanked your hips in tandem with his punishing thrusts, his cock pulsing and twitching whenever a tear fell down your perfect face. your cervix was practically taking a beating, the slurping sounds of you sucking him in only egged him on more.
the bed groaned and creaked below your connected bodies, the headboard banging against the wall in a way your senses didn’t even register. you kept eye contact with him the whole time, you hardly even let yourself blink. “k-kuna..f-feels so good..”
a teethy grin appeared on his face, and he didn’t even try to hide his moans. he was loud and unashamed. “yeah? tell me about it.” he demanded, clearly loving the way your voice cracked for him.
you wracked your brain for a thought, already cock drunk beyond belief. drool dripped down your chin, each brutal thrust forcing air out of your lungs and a moan from your previously cum painted throat. “mm..s-so deep..c-can feel you in my stomach..” you panted, a sharp thrust eliciting an even sharper cry.
sukuna looked almost fascinated, more so at the little bump that jumped on your lower stomach whenever he slammed back inside you. he pressed down on it, making you squeal. “mmh? feel that baby? i belong in this pussy. it was made for me, only me.” he panted, a crazed look in his eye.
it was too much, too overwhelming, too filthy. in a haze of desperation, you wiggled your hips, trying to escape the consuming feeling, to have a moment of mercy. but he didn’t accept that, no, he yanked you back on his cock so harshly you almost screamed. and you loved it.
“don’t run from it. is that why you wrote all those letters, stalked me?” his voice was condescending and oh so convincing, “just to run from my cock when it gets too hard to take?”
you whimpered at the mean turn he’d taken again, as he kept fucking you like he was trying to discard everything in you that wasn’t him. “n-no! no, i’ll take ittt!” your stomach tightened again, and you were sure it wasn’t from him pressing on the bump he was creating. “kuna..k-kuna i’m—c-close again..”
sukuna kept his pace, continuing to slam into you and wrack every bone in your body with every ruthless stroke. your juices were coating his pubic bone, spurting out like small splashes whenever he drove back in. “i know you are, you’re so damn obvious.” he chuckled, groaning at the way your walls grew even tighter somehow. “cum all over my cock, now. god..such a slut, my fuckin’ slut.”
you came again, your pussy convulsing almost wildly around his cock as your breaths came out in ragged, pleased sobs. but he didn’t stop—only for a moment, just to flip you over. you were on your hands and knees, hardly able to hold yourself up. your body felt utterly boneless, it didn’t help that you were so overstimulated it nearly hurt. but the feeling was numb whenever you’d feel his sweaty abs press against your back. you wanted to lick them.
your head hung low, but then your eyes caught something—one of your letters. a weak whimper left you when the recognition washed over your clouded senses—he still read them? in fact, there was a cum stain on the left hand side. “y-you—“
“—read it.” he ordered, cracking a sharp slap across your ass when you hesitated. his hips kept slamming into you, cock ruining your insides beyond belief. “read it out loud, baby. go on.”
you whimpered pathetically, tears clouding your vision. your face was a mess of desperation, tears, and drool—all poured an mixed together in a concoction that was perfectly sukuna’s. you squinted a bit, trying to read your sloppy writing.
“d-dear, sukuna..” you sniffled, “you don’t..know me..but i know you. we are smack! s-soulmates! i dream about..mghh! you e-every night, fuck-fucking myself asleep at the thought of being one of those girls in your movies.”
you felt his cock twitch inside you again, veins stirring the juices in your syrupy pussy. “keep going.” he said, slapping your ass again and listening to you wail. god, he loved how you cried for him.
“i-i want..want you t’ruin my life..i-i’d mmh..l-let you..” you panted, dark blobs starting to appear on the paper from where your tears fell—some hitting the cum stain. “n-no matter what it takes..m’gonna..make you all mine..”
that was enough for him. he pulled your head back by your hair, making you look over your shoulder at him. you sobbed pathetically, weak whimpers wracking you as he kept fucking your sore cunt.
“you still want me to ruin your life, baby? do you? answer me, do you?” there was an unhinged desperation in his voice, like hearing your answer would make or break his entire existence.
“mmhh—mhmm..!”
“use your words. say it, fucking say it. sweetheart. i need you to say it.”
“y-yes! p-please ruin my haah..life! r-ruin everything about me..!” you squealed, unable to even think anymore.
“then that song, the one with all those sweet noises you’re gonna make..” he started, voice so hoarse and grainy it was almost difficult to understand him at all. “it’ll be the last fucking song you release, you hear me? then we’ll go away, somewhere where i can have you all to myself.”
you nodded clumsily at that, god, it was your dream. at that moment, it felt like he was the only thing you needed in your life—above water, above oxygen. his cock pounding you ruthlessly made you feel so alive. “y-yes, yes, kuna!” you sobbed, “i’ll d-do it!”
an unhinged, guttural moan tore from his throat at that, everything he wanted was being given to him so easily. “that’s it, atta girl. maybe i should breed this tight little pussy right now.”
“y-yes! k-kuna please fill me upppp—!” your orgasm hurling towards you. you let out a loud, sinful cry, your release splattering all over his front and the sheets below you.
not even a second later, he buried himself to the hilt, and flooded your pussy with his warm cum. spurts painting your cervix like ownership, white trickling out of your hole where he plugged you up. you pulsed and clamped tightly around his cock, milking him for all he had.
you realized in that moment, even in that hazy mind of yours, you had placed yourself perfectly in the palm of ryomen sukuna’s hand.
♯ megumi fushiguro definitely knows how to treat his girl every now and then twt link
through the walls came the muffled sounds of conversation. you could hear toji grumbling under his breath about something, his low voice carrying through the halls before it abruptly gave way to a rough, booming laugh. whatever had annoyed him clearly hadn't lasted long. tsumiki's lighthearted voice followed almost immediately, and then came the soft, affectionate laughter of megumi's mom.
together, their voices blended into a comforting hum that made the whole place feel warm and full of life.
i mean, after being apart for so long, what parent wouldn't be happy to see their kids back home from college?
the only person missing? megumi fushiguro. and where was he? upstairs in his room.. with you. in his defense, though, he'd already spent the entire week catching up with his family. now, as far as he was concerned, it was time to spend some quality time with his girlfriend.
the air in his bedroom was thick with a tension that felt both fragile and heavy. downstairs, the muffled sounds of the fushiguro household, the clatter of plates and the low rumble of conversation continued, serving as a dangerous backdrop to the illicit act happening right now on his bed.
you were sprawled back against his cold pillows, your legs draped over his shoulders, exposing every inch of your cunt to him. because of megumi’s low sex drive, these moments were rare. he didn't crave sex with the urgency others did, and the gaps between your intimate encounters were often long enough that you almost forgot the sheer, devastating skill he possessed with his tongue.
though right now, you were remembering quite well.
"mmmh... what if tsumiki walks in?" you muttered, watching him through half lidded eyes before letting your head fall back against his pillows with a small sound escaping from your lips.
“she won’t.”
“your— hah! your dad?”
he opened his eyes just enough to meet your gaze, his slightly furrowed brows and narrowed eyes sending a silent warning your way; the silent equivalent of telling you to drop it. you got the message immediately and decided not to push your luck.
megumi was focused, his dark hair falling forward as he pressed his face against your folds for the third time that evening. he started slow, his tongue tracing a wet, deliberate line from the very bottom of your entrance, dragging upward through your slickness until he reached your clit. he didn't slurp or make loud, messy noises, instead, he used a firm, rhythmic pressure, sucking your swollen nub into his mouth with a precision that made your hips jerk involuntarily.
as he worked, his hands subconsciously began rubbing your thighs, his palms sliding up and down the soft skin of the back of your thighs in a slow, grounding motion.
a sharp gasp escaped your lips, echoing too loudly in the quiet room.
megumi slightly pulled away from your cunt with a small smooch, glancing up at you with those piercing eyes, his voice a low, warning velvet. "quiet down," he breathed, his breath hot against your skin, and pressed a small kiss to your folds. "they’ll hear you."
"i can't help it.." you whimpered, your fingers digging into the sheets. "megs, please— you know exactly what you're doing!"
"do i?" he murmured, pressing his mouth deeper into your pussy, letting out a low, vibrating hum that echoed through your entire pelvic floor. though, the sound was muffled by your flesh.
"forget how good you taste.. you're so sweet."
the admission only made your heart race more. you reached down, your fingers brushing through his dark spikes. "remember now?"
"hard to forget in the first place," he whispered, his voice vibrating against your clit. "you’re so wet for me, pretty..”
he leaned back in, but this time he was more methodical. he used his tongue to lap at your entrance, swirling in slow, heavy circles that made you feel like you were melting into the mattress. every time you tried to moan, megumi would increase the suction on your clit, effectively stealing the sound from your throat.
"oooh, fffuck— just like that! yeah—" you gasped.
his hands gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to his face. "yeah? tell me how it feels."
"it feels.. too much," you squeaked out, your voice a strained whisper. "it feels incredible though— don't stop, please don't stop!"
megumi pulled back slowly, and as he retreated, a thick string of saliva remained connected, stretching from his lower lip to your dripping cunt for a heartbeat before it finally snapped. the sight was visceral and raw, sending a jolt of pure heat straight to your core.
before you could recover, he gathered a pool of spit in his mouth and spat directly onto your pussy, the wet glob glistening against your pink flesh. he followed it immediately with one long, slow lick that swept from your hole all the way to the top, coating you in his warmth.
you let out a choked moan, your mind racing. god, that was so erotic, you thought, your heart hammering against your ribs.
he wasted no time in burying his face back into you, but this time it was more aggressive, almost as if he were making out with your cunt. using his lips to seal around you, his tongue swirled and flicked with a relentless pace that pushed you toward the edge. he knew exactly where to press, exactly how much suction to apply to make your vision blur and toes curl.
"you’re so tight," he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick. "maybe i needa fuck you more, mmm?"
"it’s ’cause you're— you're too good at it," you managed to choke out, your hips beginning to buck.
“am i, now?”
“mmmh!”
as the pressure built, the world outside the room ceased to exist. you were spiraling, the warmth of his tongue against your clit becoming an unbearable pleasure.
your hand quickly darted out, fingers tangling firmly in his dark hair, and you pushed him deeper into your cunt, forcing his face flush against you. subconsciously, you parted your thighs wider, opening yourself completely to him. and your toes curled tight, your back arching off the pillows as the orgasm finally crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves.
through the haze of your climax, you felt megumi stop moving his tongue, but he didn't pull away. he stayed right there, his face pressed into your soaking wetness, staring up at you. he watched your expression, watching the way your eyes rolled back and your chest heaved, witnessing every second of your release without breaking eye contact. to him, you looked unbelievably beautiful like this.
as the tremors began to subside and you looked back down at him, he didn't move. he just let out a soft, huffed breath and smiled faintly against your pussy, a rare, intimate expression of affection, before closing his eyes and savoring the scent and taste of you.
"feels good?" he murmured, his voice vibrating against your clit.
you couldn't even form a coherent thought. your brain was mush, your body humming with afterglow. all you could manage was a broken, breathless murmur. "megsss.. please don’t stop—”
the moment was shattered by three heavy, rhythmic knocks against the bedroom door.
"oi, megumi," toji’s gruff voice boomed from the hallway, sounding impatient. "stop brooding in your room and get downstairs for dinner. now. you and your little girlfriend, both."
megumi groaned at the sound of his father’s voice and stiffened, finally pulling away with a wet pop. he sat back on his heels, wiping a stray drop of your juices from his lip with the back of his hand, looking entirely unfazed while you lay there trembling and completely undone.
"coming," he called back, his voice returning to its usual raspiness, though the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly how much he'd just ruined you.
“can you sit on my dick after dinner? please?”
cockwarming drabble dropping soon fellas 🥳🥳🥳 jk……unless….. also im thinking abt writing for kashimo. does anyone fw that???? him have a tongue piercing??? i keep thinking abt that nerd armin fanart 🤤🤤🤤
18+ slight angst. meet footballer!gojo & his cheerleader fwb !
1. CHEERLEADERS ARE FOR CHEERING—NOT FONDLING!
“girl… isn’t that your man?”
your first mistake is letting your eyes follow shoko’s gaze to the bleachers. your second mistake is making eye contact with golden boy gojo satoru, still in his jersey & ‘hiding’ behind a skinny pole with a very annoyed geto suguru by his side.
you don’t bother correcting shoko. instead you ignore the grin satoru flashes you, taking out the water bottle between your lips with a pop! “is he supposed to be hiding?”
shoko shrugs, turns on her heel. “dunno, ask him. he’s clearly waiting.”
you roll your eyes with a sigh, but you’re already moving.
shoes clicking against the wood gym floor, skirt swishing between your thighs. gojo satoru has long come out of his hiding spot. he’s slumped against the pole now; hands in his pockets, grin lazy, blue eyes glimmering in the orange sun. beside him geto suguru is there, jaw tight in an expression that says he’d rather be anywhere but here.
you still have your bottle in hand when gojo reaches for your hips. “hi, baby…”
you barely murmur back a hi before he’s tugging you in by your skirt. his head dips to kiss your neck, then your cheek, then somewhere else your brain doesn’t register because his hands glide up to squeeze your ass cheeks underneath your skirt. a soft noise slips past your lips as he sucks on your neck.
“mm,” he murmurs, “missed you.”
geto clears his throat.
you let satoru do as he pleases, threading your hands through his hair as his hand dips between your inner thighs. he hums into your neck when you scratch his scalp. “suguru,” you breathe, “how’d you two even get here? coach toji’s gonna kill you guys.”
“kiss,” satoru interrupts. you tilt your head towards him, eyes still on suguru as gojo presses his lips to yours.
suguru’s face twists in disgust, but he doesn’t comment. “satoru bribed him. paid him a couple hundreds to see you for five minutes.”
“right—” your voice strains when gojo gropes your ass once again. “and you followed him because?”
geto is already looking away. “he bribed me too.”
you snort, but it turns into a shiver as satoru sucks on your earlobe. he hums, pleased, when your fingers tighten in his hair.
“mmh… got an away match,” he kisses your jaw. “wanted to see my girl first.”
you’re not his girl, you know you’ll never be, but you still laugh when he squeezes your waist & presses hurried kisses to your cheek. you shove him away & his grin is cocky.
“gonna score for you,” he tugs you back, dipping his head to your ear. “and then you’ll treat me, yeah?”
you hum when his arms snake around your hips once again.
“only if you score the winning goal.”
2. POST MATCH SEXCAPADES !
satoru comes back too late.
you’re not sure exactly why—maybe overtime, maybe the team stopped somewhere to celebrate their win—but you don’t let the thought plague you. you’re more concerned about the fact that it’s nearly evening & you can hear a ball kicking against the gym walls. you’re still in your cheer uniform, tiny skirt & sheer top, standing at the metal doors as you watch gojo dribble on his own.
he stops dribbling to catch his breath, wiping sweat off his chin. and then he’s off to sit at the bleachers, letting water slide down his neck as he chugs from a bottle.
you take it as your cue.
you have your hands behind your back, padding all slow, steps soft as you make your way to him. gojo keeps his bottle pressed to his lips but he sees it. how your skirt clings to your thighs. how your breasts ripple under the thin material. he lets out a low hum as you sit yourself on his lap.
you loop your hands around his neck. “hi.”
his lip tugs. “hi,”
he squeezes your waist as you press yourself into him. your tits smush against his chest, nipples hardening, and his fingers are already tracing the hem of your skirt & gliding up your thigh.
“how was the match?” you mumble.
“was good,” he mutters, but his thumb has already found your panties underneath your skirt. he rubs a slow circle over the bud. “you miss me?”
“no,” you sass, but he presses his thumb into your clit & your hips stutter. satoru laughs.
“i know what you like now,” he hums, left hand gliding up your side as the other rubs slow circles over your panties. “know it only takes a little.”
his thumb finds your nipple through your thin shirt. he rubs a circle over the pebbled peak, slow, but then he raises a brow. “no bra?”
you can’t respond. your breath hitches as your head falls into his shoulder.
“so cute,” he murmurs softly. he lets you press against him, leaving your panties to grope your heavy tits in his palm. he squeezes and fondles, pressing light kisses to your cheek as you make pretty noises in his ear. your hips buck into him.
“needy,” he scoffs, but his hands come up to guide your hips as you rut against him. he’s already hard and your panties are soaked thin and you let the material cling between your folds as your clit rubs against him. he flips up your skirt to find you drenched & slobbering. he bites his cheek.
“fuck, baby,” he rasps, sliding your panties over your aching cunt. you’re still humping him. “why’s your pussy so fucking wet?”
you only whimper as he presses his thumb to your sticky clit, rubbing hard circles over the bud. his other hand gropes your hip, guiding you faster over him. your breathing shudders as his thumb circles your clit faster and harder, until your hips are stuttering & he’s cupping your pussy so you cum in his palm.
you whimper, tears pricking at your lashes as you come down from your high. satoru kisses your cheek slow. “mmh, good job, baby.”
he’s still rubbing his palm over your pussy, massaging your warmth all slow & lazy. your eyes drop to his bulge, his cock practically twitching in his shorts. you reach a hand to glide over it, palming him so his hips twitch. he inhales sharply, “fuck—”
“not in my uniform,” he steals your hand, kissing your jaw. “gonna be a nightmare to clean.”
you glare at him through your lashes. “it’s already dirty, idiot.”
he laughs at your pretty face glaring up at him. your cheeks are still flushed, lashes wet, and your lips are in a frown but satoru swears you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. he folds his hand over yours and dips his head to kiss you warm & slow. you gasp as his tongue pushes in, a soft moan leaving your lips as his tongue grazes yours.
“another time,” he murmurs against your lips. “no pouting, yeah?”
you pout anyways, and satoru kisses it off.
3. NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND !
satoru is driving too fast.
his jaw is tight, knuckles white against the steering as you clutch your seatbelt beside him. your heart hammers against your ribs but the engine soon slows, his foot easing down on the breaks as the car comes to a stop at a traffic light.
today’s match went bad, really bad, so bad to the point that afterwards you’d tried to console him and he’d simply walked past. you try not to let it get to you. you know how men are when it comes to losing in sports.
but satoru’s breathing settles beside you, so you try once more.
“you played good today.”
silence.
"i know you're upset," you continue, voice soft. "but it's just one game, and you'll get them next time.”
silence again. his jaw only ticks, face illuminated by the traffic light’s red glow. the seconds seem to stretch into minutes, and you fumble with your skirt.
“you did your best,” you turn to him. “that’s all that matters—“
“can you stop?”
you freeze.
satoru doesn’t look at you. his fingers tap against the steering as he lowers his foot to the gas pedal. he’s not speeding anymore, but the silence stretches & you can feel a lump clawing at your throat.
you bite your lip. and satoru’s mad, yes, but he’s got no right to talk to you like that or take his anger out on you. so you suck in a breath, try to correct him. “i was only trying to help. you don’t have to take it out on me—“
“do you ever get tired of talking?”
“what?”
but satoru continues. “you always have something to say, don’t you? you’re not my fucking girlfriend. and i don’t need your fucking comfort.”
you blink. the words don’t register at first, but soon your throat is closing up, and you’re nodding obediently before you can think any better of it. your skirt bunches in your hands as you try to keep your breathing steady. god forbid you give him a reason to snap at you once again.
“you’re right,” you try for sass but it fails. “and i won’t act like it again.”
but satoru sees you through the rearview mirror. your eyes are on your lap, like you’re still trying to process what just happened, your thumbs fiddling with the hem of your skirt. satoru only swallows, glances away. if he ignores you long enough, you’ll be just fine, right?
your breath hitches beside him and he crumbles immediately.
he’s already pulling over, unbuckling his belt to reach over the console. “no baby, i’m sorry,” he pleads, and maybe he shouldn’t because it only makes tears fall from your eyes. “shh baby don’t cry, i’m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry.”
he smushes your face into his chest, carding his fingers through your hair. you try to push him away but he takes your hand and presses it to his chest.
“didn’t mean to snap at you,” his breathing is ragged as he cups your face. “don’t cry baby, you know i hate it when you cry.”
you sniffle as he swipes a thumb over your wet lashes. “then what are we?”
satoru doesn’t answer. instead he presses his lips to yours, slow and warm, head tilting to deepen the kiss. “you’re my girl,” kiss. “my baby,” kiss. “my everything,” kiss.
he doesn’t say my girlfriend. but he doesn’t need to, right?
footballer!gojo doesn’t do relationships. and cheerleaders like you don’t make good girlfriends anyway. so you swallow the lump growing in your throat & let him part open your thighs.
rated R for mature content, mdni. tw: he’s disgusting.
Thinking about pervy!choso who has the thick, blushing head of his cock smearing all slanted against the spot on the couch in which you’d been sitting in just thirty minutes earlier.
pervy!choso who can’t even begin to explain why it drives him so utterly insane to get off on anything you’ve made the slightest contact with.
pervy!choso who even collects things you touch sometimes because he’s a freak like that. Water bottles you’ve tried to recycle, blankets you’ve folded, glass cups your lips have grazed, forks that have felt the slick of your tongue, the shoelaces to those one pair of sneakers you can’t seem to find anymore-, yeah… you get the idea.
pervy!choso who unintentionally inconveniences you because of this little collecting habit of his. He knows he should stop at some point and get a hold of himself, but how’s he supposed to do that when he watches the way your tongue lathers around spoons to gather the remnants of whatever you’d been eating?
pervy!choso has even crated this only little thing in his head called a indirect-cumshot. Which is, yes, exactly what you think it is. Well, if you’re thinking that it’s like an indirect-kiss but y’know… with cum instead.
Yeah, remember the mug you used to drink your coffee out of earlier this morning? Choso came in that the night before. It’s been thoroughly washed, of course. But in his head—it’s still an indirect cumshot of sorts.
pervy!choso who naturally has a collection of your clothes hidden in various areas. He sleeps with a pair of your panties right under his pillow for the sole purpose of waking up the next morning, managing to capture your scent into his nose like some kinda mutt, and then jerking off until his wrist cramps up and his dick hurts.
pervy!choso who knows that you know he’s a perv. He’s not very discreet about it, nor is he quiet whenever he’s busy cumming to anything and everything involving you.
You hear him panting your name out at night sometimes, heard him “accidentally” call some chick he had over by your name while she was riding him—that poor girl—and even walked on him with his cock in his hand and a series of text threads between you ‘n him displayed up on his laptop.
Fuckin’ freak.
pervy!choso who awkwardly positions himself on parts of the apartment you share just to properly satisfy himself. What exactly does this entail? Oh, y’know, him sitting the wrong way on a chair you sat in for twenty minutes, grinding his bare cock against the smooth wood and soon letting his cum paint out across your seat!
pervy!choso who accidentally came mid-conversation with you.
You were yapping about some show he agreed to watch with you and you thought you were going crazy when you noticed how much his hips were moving under the not-so-thick blanket he buried himself beneath, but… then he was grunting. And then his face was made up. And his ears had got red. And he could barely make eye contact with you.
Moments later and he excused himself off to the bathroom, tugging his pants down and scoffing at the way his seed has plastered itself all throughout his boxers just from listening to you talk.
pervy!choso who knew he had a real problem after that. It was one thing to jerk off to you rather often, but to not even be able to have a conversation-, no, to not even be able to listen to you was insane!
pervy!choso who comes to vent to you about it one night—confessing and apologizing about all his habits with the biggest pout on his face. Telling you how he, “can’t control it” sometimes, and that he might be “a bit” infatuated with you.
pervy!choso who’s heart skips a beat when you reveal you’re no better than he is! You pulled out a dildo of yours that… weirdly resembled his cock?
pervy!choso was left to bat his lashes in disbelief. There’s no way you, his sweet sweet roommate was just as much of a perv as he was—if not worse?!
The dildo you’d shown to him not only resembled his cock, but captured the very essence of it down to the slimmest vein trickling down near his balls.
What the fuck.
pervy!choso who starts drooling uncontrollably when you go on to explain to him that you’ve been using the pillows he sleeps on to get off for months now. You told him that you’d made sure the pillows and their cases were washed before his head ever hit them again but, fairly enough, he didn’t give a shit about that.
Hell, he wishes you’d left the evidence of your acts all over his stuff—just to he could rub his face into it later and get a proper smell of you while he humped his cock against his sheets.
pervy!choso who realizes he’s drooling from more than one place halfway through your perverted confessions, his body unconsciously inching closer and closer to you until you’re both practically sharing breaths and every word of sin that’s exiting your lips is being caressed right into his greedy ones.
pervy!choso who, rightfully, cums a good minute ‘n a half into the first kiss you two share. His hands could barely explore your body without shaking and the sounds that left his throat were just nasty. Someone would’ve thought the two of you were fucking already!
pervy!choso who gets shy when you push him down and tell him to show you his cock—what if you don’t like it? What if this is the part where you regain your moral senses and admit that you’re both horrible people who’ve done disgusting things in thought of the other?
pervy!choso who is pleasantly surprised when you get impatient and tug his dick out for yourself, his lashes fluttering whilst his lips quiver open to say something to you. He wanted to warn you about how much he cums, but your hand was already curling around his cream-smothered cock.
pervy!choso who thinks he dies when he first feels your mouth on him, your tongue darting out to taste the mess he’s made of himself, and your eyes almost appreciatively set up on his.
pervy!choso who can’t even move because of how good your lips feel wrapped around his cock. He wants to burry his fingers in your hair, push your pretty head down, fuck himself up into your throat, and more but… he can’t move for some reason.
pervy!choso who chokes when his wide tip knocks into the deepest nook of your mouth, hearing a loud sluuuurp! before he’s gasping and suddenly—you’re not in between his legs anymore..?
Oh.
That’s right. It was just another one of his daydreams.
None of that actually happened, he never confessed his acts of filth to you and you never said anything about you being just as much of a perv.
No, in reality, he’s been staring at you like a true weirdo for the past few minutes—unintentionally making weird ass noises here ‘n there because of how wrapped up in his fantasy he was.
Then you make eye contact with him all of a sudden, popping your lips off of a bright red popsicle and tilting your head, “Did you want some?”
“Huh?” He gapes.
You gesture the popsicle his way and smile all innocently, “You’re drooling and you’ve been watching me eat this for like five minutes now.”
“Y-Yeah.”
You scoff, “Yeah, what? Yeah, you want a taste? Or, yeah, you’re admitting to staring at me?”
“Both,” Then he leans forward and lightly takes your wrist into his hand, holding eye contact with you as his mouth parts. Tongue rolling out all wet with drool, “Feed it t’me, please?”
He hardly has a moment to react before you’re gliding the popsicle in between his lips, watching how his tongue eagerly laps at every inch of it before he sucks on it firmly.
…Then he accidentally moans.
Your brows shoot up and he pulls his mouth off the popsicle. Chuckling at him, “Did you just-“
“Sorry, mommy.”
“What?” You choke.
“What?”
Choso wishes this was a dream too but, based on the way you’re staring at him right now…
Yeahhhh, he might be fucked!
the full oneshot inspired by this drabble is here || perm choso tags (1/2):
this is Sukuna. Sukuna loves his personal space. this is you. you also love Sukuna's personal space—especially when he’s trying to have a coherent conversation with his best friend over the phone.
⪼ Sukuna loves his personal space mini-series
Late afternoon settles over the apartment, and Sukuna perches right on the edge of the couch. Hunched forward, one elbow braced against his bare knee, he presses his phone to his ear, voice pitched low as he talks to Toji. His brow knots in concentration, every muscle in his jaw working as he tries to puzzle out whatever noise Toji’s truck is making this time.
Sukuna loves his personal space when he’s trying to have a coherent conversation with his best friend over the phone. You, on the other hand, happen to love Sukuna’s personal space more than your own.
Drifting out of the kitchen, you catch sight of the broad, bare expanse of his back. He looks far too focused, way too accessible, and just a little too serious for your liking.
The wide gap he’s left behind on the couch cushions is practically an invitation. Without a second’s hesitation, you wedge yourself right into the space behind him, pressing close until there’s not a sliver of distance left. With him being so massive and his neck always just out of reach from where you’re sitting, you improvise. Arms loop tight around his chest, hands locking over his sternum, while your legs swing around his waist, ankles crossing over his lap to anchor yourself to him completely.
Sukuna’s voice stutters out mid-sentence, the words dying in his throat. Every muscle in his body goes rigid beneath you, his breath catching on a syllable as your weight settles over him.
The silence stretching over the line lasts just long enough to make you grin before Toji's dry, gravelly voice finally cuts through it. "...Sukuna? You there? Did the line drop, or are you actually thinking for once?"
Sukuna doesn't answer right away. His free hand slowly drifts up, thick fingers curling around your wrists where they're locked tight over his chest. His grip tightens, knuckles blanching as if he can will himself back to composure. He lets out a deep, chest-rattling sigh straight into the phone's mic.
"Yeah, I’m here," Sukuna grumbles into the receiver, his voice raspy. "The brat just turned herself into a backpack. Keep talking."
"A what?" Toji snorts, his obnoxious laugh loud over the speaker. "She bothering you again? Put her on, I’ll tell her to let you breathe for five minutes."
"Mind your own business, Fushiguro," Sukuna snaps, though he makes absolutely no attempt to push you off or shake your legs loose from his lap.
"Hey, if you can't handle your own house, that's your problem," Toji chuckles, the background noise of a construction site faintly audible through the line. "Anyway—the grinding gets way worse at forty-five. Bearing or what?"
A grunt rumbles out of Sukuna as he tries to focus on mechanics, but with you pressed flush against his back, he’s clearly losing the thread. Needing both hands for a second, he tilts his head, pinning the phone between his ear and his broad shoulder. His hands slide down, large palms cupping the undersides of your thighs. With no effort at all, he hitches you higher, shifting your weight so you can slide your arms up from his chest to wrap tightly around his thick neck instead.
Once you’re anchored higher, his hands shift again, wrapping firmly under your knees—now crossed securely over his flat stomach. He grabs the phone back with one hand, his other arm a solid shelf beneath your legs. Without taking a single break from the conversation, Sukuna stands up from the couch like it’s nothing, taking you with him.
He doesn’t even stagger. Carrying you around the living room like you weigh nothing, he takes long, unhurried strides toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, Toji’s complaints about his car and traffic droning on in the background.
You beam from your high perch, nuzzling your face into his short, soft hair and pressing lingering kisses into the crown of his head with every few steps.
Sukuna's eyes roll up toward the ceiling as he pulls the phone away from his ear, slapping it flat against his bare chest to muffle the mic. Tilting his head back, he narrows his crimson eyes in a fierce, mock-deadly glare, though the helpless grin tugging at his lips ruins any chance of menace.
"I can't even take a five-minute call without you climbing me. You're a complete nightmare," he whispers fiercely, ignoring Toji for a moment to bite your forearm. "An absolute terror.”
"And a cute backpack," you whisper back softly, grinning down at him before kissing his temple.
A low, defeated chuckle rumbles out of Sukuna, but his grip under your knees only tightens, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your skin through your sweats.
"Don't push it, brat," he mutters, brushing his lips against the inside of your wrist before bringing the phone back to his ear.
"...and if I have to hear that squealing for another fifteen minutes, I'm putting this whole rig in a ditch," Toji grumbles, having not stopped complaining for a single second.
"It's definitely the bearing, you idiot. Bring the truck in tomorrow before your wheel flies off," Sukuna rasps into the phone, the sound vibrating straight through his back and into your chest as he wanders the apartment. "And you're paying for your own parts this time."
a/n: domestic sukuna masterlist
reader: backpack time
sukuna: fine. hold on properly
toji: anyway, about my truck...
texts with megumi as suguru geto’s younger sister!
note : this is a slight au where hidden inventory doesn’t really happen and suguru is another teacher at jujutsu high! wow so fun and original… also everyone is like one year up in school. so megumi is a second year.
you felt fingers close around your ankle. a firm tug dragged you across the sheets until your body met his. a sleepy sound slipped from your throat as your eyes fluttered open.
satoru was already looking down at you, white hair falling into those eyes, that lazy half-smile on his mouth like he had nowhere better to be.
“hey,” he said, voice low. “you’ve been sleeping a lot lately, babe.”
you blinked up at him, still half-dazed. “it’s the middle of the afternoon…”
“i know.” he crawled over you, knees forcing your thighs open, the hard length of him pressing against your hip through his sweatpants.
one hand shoved under the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him, palm dragging up your stomach until he gripped your breast, thumb pressing hard over the nipple until it stiffened. “doesn’t mean i don’t miss this. miss being inside you.”
you made a soft sound. “i was just napping…”
“mm.” he leaned down, mouth at your ear. “and now you’re awake. good. i’m not letting you go back to sleep until i’m done fucking you.”
his mouth closed over your nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp while his other hand yanked your panties down your legs.
you lifted your hips and he tossed the fabric aside. when two long fingers shoved between your thighs he exhaled against your skin, feeling how wet you already were.
“damn… already soaked. look at that. even half-asleep your pussy’s begging for it.”
“satoru—”
“shh.” he pushed his sweatpants down just far enough to free his cock, thick and hard. he dragged it up and down your slit once, then shoved into you in one long, rough thrust that punched a cry out of your throat. he bottomed out and stayed there, hips flush against yours, breathing steady.
“fuck… there you go. taking all of me. so goddamn tight.”
then he started moving. deep, hard strokes that rocked the mattress, the wet slap of his cock driving into you filling the quiet room. one hand pinned both your wrists above your head; the other hooked under your knee and shoved it higher so he could slam in deeper, the head of his cock dragging hard against that sensitive spot with every thrust.
“you feel so fucking good,” he said, voice still casual even as his hips snapped forward. “always do. my favorite place to be is buried in this pretty pussy. you know that?”
you tried to answer but it came out as a shaky moan. he kissed the corner of your mouth, never slowing.
“stay awake. don’t you dare fall back asleep on me.”
“i’m here—” you whispered, voice already breaking.
“good.” he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in hard enough to make the headboard knock. “tell me if it’s too much. or don’t. i like when you just take it.”
“it’s— deep—” your voice caught as he shifted the angle and ground in.
“i know.” his free hand shoved between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, mean circles while he kept fucking you. “you’re getting close already, huh? i can feel you clamping down on me. that greedy little cunt doesn’t want to let me go.”
“satoru— fuck—”
“let it happen.” his voice stayed low, almost calm, even as his hips kept that hard, steady rhythm, cock slamming in and out of your wet heat with loud, obscene sounds. “i want to feel you come on my dick. come on, baby.”
the dual sensation tipped you over. pleasure snapped hard, your cunt clenching and fluttering around him as a broken cry left your throat.
he fucked you through it, not slowing, letting you shake under him while he murmured against your mouth.
“that’s it… just like that. fuck yeah.”
he didn’t stop. in one rough motion he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up so your ass was in the air, and shoved back into you from behind in a single hard thrust.
the new angle tore a louder moan out of you. he leaned over your back, one hand fisted in your hair, the other braced beside your head, and fucked you deep and hard, the slap of his hips against your ass loud in the still room.
“you still with me?” he asked against the nape of your neck, breath hot.
“yes— yes—”
“good.” his pace stayed controlled but rough, every thrust deep enough to make your toes curl. “you can take it. my girl always takes my cock so well.”
you could only moan into the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric as he kept going. he reached under you again, fingers finding your oversensitive clit and rubbing hard while he drove in deep.
“you’re gonna come again for me,” he said, voice still low even as his breath started to hitch. “i can feel it. that pretty pussy’s about to squeeze me again.”
your second orgasm hit harder, a sharp, shaking wave that made your arms give out. he held your hips up and fucked you through it, groaning as your cunt clenched around him.
“shit… perfect. so fucking perfect.”
he kept going until his own breath hitched, then slammed in deep and held there as he came, spilling inside you in thick, hot pulses, grinding against you so every drop stayed buried.
you felt the heat of it, the way it filled you, the mess already dripping around his cock.
“fuck… take it. take all of it, baby.”
he stayed like that for a moment, still buried, just breathing hard against your back.
then he pulled out slow, watching the thick mess of his come drip down your thighs and onto the sheets, and rolled you back over so he could see your face.
his eyes were half-lidded, that same lazy smile tugging at his mouth as he brushed damp hair off your forehead.
“there,” he said, leaning down to kiss you hard. “now you can sleep if you want.”
you managed a small, breathless laugh. “you’re not even a little sorry, are you?”
“nah.” he pulled the sheets over both of you, tucking your body against his chest, one long arm locked around your waist, his come still warm and messy between your thighs. “love you.”
“love you too,” you whispered against his skin, still trembling a little.
content: popstar!reader x actor!sukuna - you had been quite infatuated with ryomen sukuna. unbeknownst to you, the feeling was mutual. if you were obsessed first..how come he was so much worse?
ryomen sukuna. oh, you knew him. everybody knew him in fact, though you felt you knew him better than anybody else. you were his biggest fan, an obsessive freak hidden behind a glittery mic and a sparkly smile. everyone knew you..but did he know you? that was the only thing that really started to matter in your life, him.
what kind of slacking agency would let the world’s most cherished pop star fall in love with a husk, disaster of a man? he was a cigarette, and you were the poor, poor, addict. cigarettes..he always held them so nicely. the way his lips pursed when he blew out smoke, the way he held them so effortlessly and lazily in his hands. the most mundane things appealed you when it came to him. more so, how you couldn’t figure him out.
sukuna wasn’t misunderstood, it’s just that he simply couldn’t be understood. some interviews, he was rash and gravely—others, he was kind or seductive. confusing his fans and the whole film background in general had become his reputation, his mission.
maybe that’s why he had so many fans. what kind of girl wouldn’t obsess over a badass, ripped actor? such a silly thought, and yet you got yourself foolishly caught up in it all. knowing of his existence was what halted your entire life, your entire career. your agency wasn’t to blame, well, you had only yourself to blame. that and another person.
shoko—your manager.
she really set you up there. the day she showed you a movie starring ryomen sukuna was the day your whole life crumbled and contorted into a core of obsession and yearning. your dreams had completely shifted, it was shameful and worrying how much he influenced what you did.
“are you seriously making me watch a romance film? since when were you into that stuff?” you teased, your arms trapping a pillow against your chest. mandatory movie nights were a system you set up! that way, boring managing talk wouldn’t ruin your friendship with her. it was shoko’s turn to pick a movie, and you weren’t pleased! well, yet.
shoko blew spoke out of her pink lips, like some sort of beautiful humidifier. “maybe it’ll inspire you to write something other than sad, doomed music.” she angled, the tips of her lips quirking up in preparation to wrap around her cigarette. how cunning. “plus, i think there’s an actor you’ll like in there. he’s totally your type.”
now that caught your attention. you raised an eyebrow, easing the grip on your plush pillow to a gentle embrace. “i didn’t know it was my manager’s job to hook me up with some actor.”
shoko huffed out a laugh, accompanied by smoke, of course. “you’re cute. you’ll have to put in the work for this one.” she said, almost informing. she pressed play on the movie, and the previous pit of dread in your stomach had lifted a bit.
not even ten minutes in and you were ruined. this was easily the sexiest guy to ever bless your eyes—was he real? what kind of ritual-love-spell was put into the air while creating this creature? your eyes were blown so wide it made you look like a goldfish, your entire frontal lobe was shattering and rebuilding itself in the most self destructive way. shoko dabbed at the drool trickling off your bottom lip before you even realized it was there.
“hot, right?”
“i’d suck him dry, shoko. dry.”
a startled and delighted gasp left her. “you’re ridiculous! get in line, sweet pea.” she laughed, patting your head. “maybe you should dm him or something?”
“you want me dead, miss manager.” you sighed. trying to snatch the remote from her. “turn this off, i’m jealous of the female actress.”
shoko easily clicked off the movie, unaware of the turmoil she had caused.
but..what about sukuna? did he know you? why, of course he did! his best friend, satoru gojo, could be blamed.
sukuna had been invited to collab with some kind of cigarette company—being that famous for smoking is quite an impressive feat! he was in the dressing room letting gojo assist him with his hair.
assist was a pathetic way to describe gojo, the man was scrolling on his phone and leaving his friend to struggle. stalking girls on instagram was clearly a priority..evidently he didn’t know he was best friends with the biggest stalker on earth. sukuna couldn’t even growl out a complain about gojo’s uselessness before he was interrupted.
“dude, have you seen this chick?” he asked, proceeding to..not show his phone. greed! “she’s a pop star, sexy as hell—i’m telling you!”
sukuna, meanwhile, was putting gel in his hair in a way only he could make look so furious. “show me the damn phone then, dumbass.” he reached behind, snatching it for himself while gojo squawked like a bird.
pulled up on the screen was your instagram, to which sukuna’s features tightened at. you were stunning—more than that. more than anything he’d ever seen. he never really busied himself with girls and recent times, he was more known for that at the beginning of his career. but this was different.
lust, heat, desire, obsession—it all swirled low in his gut like a twisted flame. his feelings were a black hole, and he found himself unable to resist it. how he developed obsession was peculiar. usually, such feelings would take time to develop, at least more than ten seconds. but just from seeing a photo of you, sukuna knew. he knew that he’d have you one way or another, that, he was confident in.
“holy shit.” he breathed, gripping the phone so tight gojo was sure he’d be at the phone store later on his behalf. “a pop star, you said? how the hell do i not know of her?”
gojo looked down, the visible boner in sukuna’s pants made a shit eating grin form on his lovely features. “i mean, she’s not really your type, man.” he shrugged, making no attempt to snatch the phone back. “maybe you should dm her!”
sukuna clicked his tongue, sending your account to himself before handing the phone back. “does your head live in your ass?“ he rubbed his head, ruining his practically manufactured hair. “..i’ll consider.”
“maybe you should consider getting rid of that tent in your pants before shooting a commercial. unless that’s your guest speaker.”
“maybe i should CONSIDER shooting YOU!”
it got quite messy from here. since the day you discovered him, you binge watched every movie he starred in, even ones he had a single scene in. though, those weren’t common. if sukuna was in a movie, he was the whole plot. that was in your favor.
late at night, you found yourself with your hand between your thighs, replaying was scenes from his movies over, and over, and over. your lyric notes would lay discarded elsewhere completely, neglected and unimportant. you’d go until your thighs shook, until your cunt felt numb and achy. you’d imagine it was him that made you so sore, instead of your stalking self.
god, how you wished it was you. how you wished it was his bare chest pressed against yours, how you wished it was him filling up your needy pussy so nicely instead of your cold fingers. the desire to hear how he actually moaned was unbearable. you envied those actors, so much. but when you pretended it was you, it almost numbed it—just enough to let you cum.
was sending him a photo of your wet pussy too far? maybe your refrain on that.
on the other side, whenever sukuna heard a song of yours, all he could wonder was how that pretty voice of yours would sound moaning. were you loud? quiet? high pitched? breathy? he had to know, just had to. he started refusing to do sex roles in fear he’d imagine the girl as you, and totally wreck them. your posts, your interviews, he studied them. did your face on his computer screen count as studying? even when he’d shoot loads of cum on it?
talk shows, interviews. messy. messy. messy. you even found yourself pathetically releasing a single about yearning for somebody. how utterly foolish you had become.
you wanted him to ruin your life. but the truth was, he already did. subconsciously.
but then the letters came, from both sides. you sent them first, anonymously, secret admirer style. surely he’d discard them as another random fangirl trying to get in his pants, but you didn’t mind. you told him how obsessed you were with him, how you needed him so bad the ache became physical and settled between your thighs—ah! new lyric idea!
you told him that you watched every one of his movies, that you were tempted to show up at his house, that you’d build a music career off him. safe to say, you were losing it. and shoko didn’t know a thing, thankfully. you’d be in deep shit.
gojo was going through sukuna’s mail one day, just out of nosy curiosity. he picked a stack of your letters, unopened. he carefully peeled back the paper to reveal messily written love confessions—and maybe crime ones too.
“yo, ryomen.” he waved the paper up, “you’ve got a true fan here, dude. she’s obsessed.” his eyes found the paper again, reading the part about music. “call me crazy but..i think it’s that popstar you’ve been drooling over. she’s talking about making music dedicated to you.”
that got his attention. he whipped his head around so fast the muscles grew taut and achy. “let me see that.” the paper was out of gojo’s grip on seconds, as sukuna’s eyes read over every like.
music. make music about him—no way. “holy shit, you really think it’s her?” god, he was a fucking animal. his pants were already starting to feel uncomfortable. “fuck, god i hope she’s stalking me. that’s the only stalker i want.”
gojo huffed out a laugh, though it was mainly disbelief. “jesus, man. you’re twisted.”
you managed to get through another tour successfully—as in..no visible mishaps apparent to the public!
a letter you had received replayed in your mind for a shameful count of hours. it was a love letter, the idea was that this guy wanted to have sex with you, which wasn’t unusual. the catch was, he talked about making a movie with you. a movie? but what if he just meant porn? something in your soul was telling you that you struck gold anyway, to follow your delusions
the after party. one you’d been looking forward to. drowning your feelings in alcohol had never appeared so enticing. you wanted forget the stress, forget him. forget the way his body looked, forget that sultry stare of his. a few drinks down, and you found yourself in the same spot.
“nice show, sweetheart.” a gravelly voice echoed behind you—a voice you couldn’t mistake for anybody else. your soul tied husband.
you whipped around so fast the fruity drink in your glass spilled over the edges. you were in the presence of sukuna, the man you had been dreaming of, the man who had consumed your life by just existing—and you were utterly frozen. “oh my-holy shit-!” you gaped. “ryomen sukuna?! what are you doing here?”
no, this wasn’t real. did the bartender lace your drink? surely he was just there for the fun of the party..though the tension swarming him like a swarm of wasps made you doubt it. you were getting in your head again.
sukuna couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you—the girl he practically tracked down. that wasn’t the right word, every move was intentional. he’d been watching you for awhile, he documented every tour date, every plausible after party, absolutely any way he could get his hands on you. and there you were, looking even better in person. his facade was careful and constructed, he didn’t let the fact he was reeling show on his face at all.
“i happen to be a fan.” he held his cigarette near his lips, his signature. “y’kickin’ me out?”
“no—god, no!” did you seriously say that out loud? fuck! “i-im so surprised you’re here! i wasn’t expecting this at all. thanks for being a fan..” how awkward.
he snorted, taking a drag of his cigarette. you wished his lips would purse around your clit like that. shameful. “are you a fan of me?”
a fan? you declared him your husband—soulmate, even. “big fan.” you replied.
he smiled, smoke permeating through the air between you like some sort of love spell, a spell neither of you needed. so you did know him..that was good. “big fan, huh? i’m honored, you look gorgeous.”
your clit jumped in your panties at that, this couldn’t be real. the club started to feel unbearably hot, all the heat settling in the one place it shouldn’t. “why thank you!” you smiled sweetly, hiding the way you eyed him up and down like a piece of meat. meat you wanted to tear into. “i could say the same about you. did you dress up for me?”
sukuna seemed appealed—almost worryingly so. “why? would that please you?” his voice was a purr, fuck, how maddening. “maybe i did. i can’t say i didn’t plan on seeing you here.” plot was a better word, but he didn’t say that out loud.
your heart immediately started racing, every thump rattling every nerve and flaming vein in your body. “planning on seeing me? do you want an autograph or something?” you giggled, trying to recover from your inner turmoil.
“nah..” his ringed fingers twitched and ached to find the warmth of your body. “no, more than that.”
a pause.
“y’happen to write letters, sweetheart?” there was a grin plastered on his sexy face, though it looked unhinged and eager. how odd, usually reading the kind of confessions you put in those letters would deeply disturb someone, but not him.
oh, you were so fucked. how did he know? were you that obvious? your body pushed for even a sprout of shame to eat at you, but..there was none. no, it wasn’t shame you felt, it was excitement.
you didn’t care at the time you wrote it, since you never thought you’d encounter him like this, let alone be confronted. that was the difference between you and sukuna. he knew he’d encounter you, knew you’d find out it was him that said all those things—and that’s why he did it.
“yeah..i happen to write letters quite often, actually.” you admitted, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth.
“is that right?” a grumbly laugh left him, the sheer expanse of his smile made you sure it’d snap. “i do to.”
you’re face visibly contorted. the pure shock and disbelief in your eyes had changed into something that mirrored his own. obsession wasn’t a strong enough word, but the tension that settled there could make your glass shake.
“wait, you—“
“—yeah, baby. i write you too.” somehow, he had gotten close to you. his usual cold eyes absorbed every wave of excitement you could offer. “is it true? you wish you could do a sex scene with me in a movie?”
a thick glob of saliva forced its way down your throat with an audible gulp. you quickly tried to recover, despite the fact your whole body burner with so much thrill you were sure you’d catch fire. “is it true you want to hear how i sound when i moan?”
his grin was all teeth and dark satisfaction, it settled in his gut like poison—poison he had created with his own thick, obsessive thoughts. it was like a curse brewing inside him, ready to destroy everything in his life he’d worked for. he was a king of curses in that way.
“touché.” he laughed behind his glass, the bob of his throat when swallowing was like some sort of sick hypnotic practice. “if i knew it was you stalking me, i would’ve come sooner.”
if you knew it was him sending those letters, you would’ve sent him nudes already! one of those practiced laughs left your body, the kind you’d let yourself give out like candy during something like a talk show.
“well you’re here now. so..now what?” you asked, setting your drink down. your full attention was on him, which was something he clearly liked.
“now what? you’ll give me your number so we can arrange something.” he wasnt asking, this wasn’t a request. it was scary how aware he was of your feelings towards him. you were being perceived with more intensity than your PR team. his ringed hand found your lower back easily, god, it took everything in you to not pounce on him.
you plucked the pen you’d been using to sign things off the open part of your dress, dragging the tip down his chest. he wore an open buttoned shirt, so naturally you wrote your number in the dead center. “call me.” you winked, as if this wasn’t everything you’d been waiting for. that cool minded facade could only be held for so long, so you found yourself speed walking towards the bathroom to scream.
and just like that, you had placed yourself in the palm of ryomen sukuna’s hand—just like you wanted. but things didn’t settle down from there, oh no, it only got messier. it was only a matter of time before the rumors started to spread, social media had a way of pairing celebrities together based on appearances alone. was that why there were edits and fanarts of the two of you? or could everyone feel the same tension you could?
what you weren’t expecting was sukuna to be all on your case like he was your new manager. he texted you all day long, and if you didn’t respond he’d start to call you. one date turned into two, then three, then four. how you didn’t end up in his sheets by then was beyond you, though you were unaware of the need he had to worm his way into your brain first.
this whole situation was basically permission for him to completely invade your life. he’d send you photos from outside your window, commenting on how sexy you looked and how bad he needed you. when you’d find him, he would be there with some sort of gift for you—buying your affection as if your obsession wasn’t enough for him.
you had gotten used to many of his sides within the first week.
“why were you talking to that guy? i saw you eyeing him.”
“you’re so perfect, baby. the most important thing in my life.”
“send me another photo. i’m close.”
“i’ll fucking kill that bastard of a host. tell your manager you can’t do talk shows with guys anymore.”
he knew you were obsessed with him, yet he felt the need to come out on top anyways.
you weren’t much better, no, not at all. you made it a mission to be the number one priority in his life. not talking to him for even a moment filled your soul with dread, he was a drug you couldn’t quit.
“please hurry up, i miss you.”
“kuna i can’t focus please talk to me, i need you.”
“i’ll burn those other letters myself. get rid of them, you don’t need the attention of other girls.”
things he said started to influence everything you did. if he liked pink on you? suddenly, every post you made for a week straight would star a pink outfit. he liked a perfume you wore? the bottle would be empty in days. and god, you didn’t mind.
you ended up at his place again—of course you did. you were sitting on the couch with him, letting his hand lazily trace your thigh. your eyes found his crimson ones, and you seemed to reflect the same feeling.
“i want you to reject that role you were offered.” you said, “i can’t handle you being even fake romantic with another girl.”
like clockwork, he grinned. “is that right? such a jealous girl.” his fingertips bit into your skin, “if that’ll please you, i’ll do it.”
a smile finally crept onto your face. “i love when you try to please me.” it was true, he chased after your approval and affection like a dog. no matter how hard he tried to act like he was in power, he wasn’t in that way.
“i’d do lots to please you, baby.” he murmured, hand snaking further upward. that was also true, you couldn’t name a thing he wouldn’t do. the fire in his eyes had never once dimmed, not a single time.
you raised an eyebrow at that, placing your hand on top of his. “lots, huh? like what? quit acting?” you teased, but the way he didn’t laugh made you confused. surely he wouldn’t go that far, right? did he expect he same?
“i would.” he admitted, something more eager rising in his chest as he studied your face. “or, i’d make you feel like you’re one of the girls in my movies. make you feel so damn good you can’t think of jealousy, only me.”
he didn’t let you respond. “would you quit music to please me?”
that..was the question. you weren’t sure you would. your hesitance brought a cold to his eyes you hadn’t seen before. you ducked your head nervously, a practiced smile tugging at your features with even more practiced grace. “well..i’m not sure. music is my passion.”
that didn’t sit with sukuna. he wanted to be the first thing, he couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied. “i could give you more than that. passion can’t even describe what i could give you.”
you didn’t doubt him, but you played along anyway. “then give it to me, show me how much you should be worth in my life.”
somewhere between the lines, you ended up in his bedroom. he had you pinned against the door, unable to even make it to his bed first before overwhelming you. his lips were pressed urgently against yours, kissing you with so much hunger you almost couldn’t keep up.
his tongue massaged yours like he was trying to own it, map out what he intended to take full control over. he kissed you like he was trying to extract your soul through his lips, just so he could have it all to himself.
all to himself..that’s all he wanted. he’d give anything away to have that. he bit your bottom lip, tongue darting out to taste your metallic blood while sucking in your weak little gasps.
your fists were balled up on his chest, the fabric of his shirt caught between your fingers. his breath was warm, his saliva a sick poison you let him inject you with. drool dripped down your chin, oxygen hardly even entering your burning lungs.
he pulled away to let you breathe, his large hand covering the entire bottom half of your face. your eyes, that’s all he looked at. “god, such pretty eyes. fuckin’ lovesick, huh?” your nod only fueled him, “y’think you can handle me? that confident?”
you kissed his palm, which made him release his hold. “i trust you. and i want you even if there’s a possibility i can’t handle it.” god, it was like you were purposely handing yourself into a curse, one that would ruin the harmony of everything in your life and leave him there, on top where he belonged.
his smirk was sharp, all teeth and morbidity. “you shouldn’t trust me, baby. but the fact you do makes me want to do disgusting things to you. so keep fuckin’ trusting me.”
“i trust you, kuna.”
“i know you do, m’so damn glad y’do.”
he was kissing you again not even a second later, his tongue shoving its way between your lips to make you overwhelmed on purpose. your teeth clanked against his due to the sheer messiness and uncoordinated desperation between you two, though neither of you stuttered once.
you pulled away, attempting to sink to your knees. he quickly grabbed your jaw, forcing you upright. “ah, ah. where’re you going, sweetheart?”
a pathetic noise left you, half whimper, half sob. “please—“ another sob, “please, please i wanna suck your dick. pleaseletmesuckyourdick—!”
sukuna laughed, almost mockingly so. “oh? you wanna suck my cock?” he queried, his hands mapping out your body direly. “m’not done with you yet.”
his hands fisted the fabric of your shirt, before ripping the fabric clean off your body. there was no time to mourn your shirt. his hands found your breasts easily, kneading them in his palms carefully. “i’ve always wanted to touch you right here. right on these sweet nipples.” he breathed, pinching your left nipple between his pointer finger and thumb enough to make you yelp.
he grinned wolfishly at the noise, his other hand continuing to toy with your other tit. “always wondered how fuckin’ loud you’d shriek when i played with them.” he pinched again to prove his point, making you squeal, “jus’ like that..”
“e-ease up, god!” you panted, but not once did you move away. this was everything you wanted, more than that.
in seconds you found yourself looking down at the man you were infatuated with, since he had lowered himself down to catch your tit in his mouth. his tongue teased the hard bud of your nipple, sucking hard enough for you to suck in a hiss of air. his other hand moved down, groping your ass with so much eagerness you nearly stumbled forward.
it wasn’t long before your nipples started to feel sore, among other things. you weakly tugged on his hair, trying to pull him off. “k-kuna..i-i—mghh! can’t..” you whimpered, though your efforts were useless. he was like a blood drunken leech.
eventually he realized you were tugging on him, and pulled away from your raw nipple with a pop! he looked up at you with a lazy smirk, drool dripping down his chin. “sorry, sweet girl, got distracted.” he planted one final kiss between your breasts before standing up. “still wanna give me head?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. he was already palming his bulge.
you nodded almost desperately, your knees hitting the ground not even a moment later. your eyes found his from below, as you kissed on his clothed outer thigh. “can you take your shirt off? please?” you requested, already undoing his belt.
sukuna had his shirt over his head in seconds—anything to please you, right? by the time he looked down, you had already pulled his pants halfway down. he helped you get them off, before holding his heavy cock in his hand right before your airy face.
god, he was big. just like you imagined. it was enough to make your jaw ache from the weight, that much you knew already. enough to stretch you out and plug you up so good.
he slapped the tip against your face, spreading his precum all over your cheek as you whimpered. “you wanna please me, baby? want my cum down your throat?”
“i do, baby. so much.”
“then show me. take my cock like a fuckin’ slut.”
a whine left your dry throat at that, as your tongue darted out and slotted right on his sensitive slit. you kitty licked the tip, wrapping your lips around it just enough to make him groan. his hand easily found your hair, though he didn’t push you. peppered kisses were planted down the heavy length of his cock, your tongue tracing the veins as if to memorize their respective placements
“holy shit..” he breathed, running his fingers through your hair. “good girl..good fuckin’ girl. take me, baby. all of me.”
you looked up at him again, keeping eye contact as you took more of him. your head bobbed back and forth, and god, you made the filthiest slurping sounds. the heavy weight of him strained your jaw, but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to.
there you were, your mouth stuffed full with the man of your fantasy’s cock. not once did you break eye contact, not with the way he was looking at you. his hand on your head urged you, making you find a quick pace.
sukuna groaned lowly, before pulling you off carefully. he watched desperation and devastation flood your irises, a string of saliva still connecting you to the head. “i want my autograph.”
your eyebrow visibly arched at that, what the hell was he talking about. you tried to put his cock back in your mouth, but he held you still, expecting you to answer. “y-yeah, okay, please just—kuna i wanna—“
“you’ll give me an autograph.” he said, eyes darting down, then back up to meet yours once again. “right on my dick, baby. sign your name there, it’s yours.”
your heart caught in your chest, drool dripping off your bottom lip inevitably. “mine..” you whispered, the feeling of his grip loosening on your hair was a sign for you to move again. he was right, it was yours. all of him was yours and yours only.
your tongue found the underside of his cock again, drawing lines of spit down every inch of them. the tip of the muscle grew taut, you closed your eyes to remember what your signature looked like.
sukuna tugged your hair once, tutting with that almost unsettling smirk on his face. “ah, ah, eyes on me.” he scolded, watching intently as tears gathered on your waterline.
a whimper left you at that, something that had become routine. your tongue started slowly tracing a path down his cock, signing your name right there, right where it belonged. it wasn’t visible, but he could feel it.
“that’s not right, baby. do it again.”
you did, a sob leaving your stuffed mouth. your tongue was starting to become tired and achy.
“no, try again. i have it memorized too, sweet girl. don’t you want to please me?” his voice was a mocking thing, and it was enough to make tears stream down your face.
eventually you got it right, though your tongue was numb and feeble. you bobbed your head slower, drool slicking your chin and everything else in its wake. he took the initiative to start thrusting into the warm heat of your mouth, that way you didn’t have to do any more work.
“jus’ stay still for me, let me..haah..d-do it.” he panted, groaning at the sight of your teary face. “so pretty crying f’me, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
perfect. so badly you just wanted to be perfect for him. hearing that praise did something to you—no it did a lot to you. with his words of praise, and his dick in your throat, you came completely untouched. you whined, eyes rolling back as your lips tightened around his intruding cock. your panties had become a soiled mess sticking to your dripping cunt. humiliating and sticky.
and oh, sukuna loved it. that just about doubled him over. “h-holy shit..mmh..you’re such a fuckin’ slut..” he husked, slamming into your throat hard enough to make you gag around him. the little convulsion of your throat did it for him, and he spilled spurts of cum all down your throat, painting it white with his sticky seed.
the feeling or his warm cum flooding your throat was everything you could’ve hoped for. you’d been stalking him for so long, analyzing him, watching him. wondering how he’d grace your tastebuds when you finally had him.
you pulled off his cock with a pop, a filthy string of cum and saliva departing you. it snapped onto your chin, to which he immediately wiped off with his thumb. his hand lingered on your cheek, evidently, the sight of you on your knees before him was enthralling.
naturally, you were zoned out. the only thing that snapped you out of it was when you felt your back hit the mattress. sukuna loomed over you like some sort of devil, nearly shrouding you.
“still with me?” he asked, patting your thigh. when he received your nod of confirmation, he smiled, pointer and middle finger hooking around the hem of your pants. “need to see what you’ve been hiding from me.”
you lifted your hips up to accommodate him, allowing your shorts to be slid down your shaky legs. if you actually allowed yourself to send that nude awhile back, this would be far less special. however, you didn’t see yourself getting in his sheets ever. life was surprising in that way.
the cold air cooling your slick cunt made you shiver against his hands, nipples hardened once again. but his expression was what really got you. his jaw muscles had grown tense and taut, his pupils were blown so wide he looked drugged. oh, he was ruined before even doing anything. pussy drunk without even indulging.
“fuckin’ hell..” he breathed, running the same two fingers through your sopping pussy as he did to discard your pants. he gathered your juices onto his fingers, the way you twitched against them made him groan. his tongue met them halfway, sucking them clean with so much vigor it made you whimper. his cock twitched the second he tasted you.
“such a pretty pussy, she’s crying f’me too.” he was grinning again, “my fuckin’ pussy, yeah?”
“y-yeah” you replied, writhing as he practically cupped your whole cunt in his hand like he was trying to extract it.
sukuna’s fingers teased your pussy, lubing up his fingers with your own slick. one finger pressed teasingly at your entrance, putting weight on the nerves just to see you squirm. as he slowly eased in one of his digits, you sucked him in greedily.
“tell me,” he started, slowly thrusting his thick finger in and out of your weeping hole. “how many guys have you had sex with?”
the question made you jolt—what was he talking about? “what are you—“ a squeal tore from you when he aggressively slammed back in, this time with two fingers.
“i don’t want to know.” he laughed, thumb finding your puffy clit. “they were practice for me, that’s all. did they matter to you?”
“..not anymore.”
“i like that answer, that’s my good girl.” he purred, curling his fingers deep inside your squelching heat. he pressed right up against your g-spot, sending your back arching towards him with a weak cry.
you watched with half lidded eyes as he reached off somewhere else, slightly upset you didn’t have his full attention. his hand returned, but with a phone.
instinctively your eyes widened—he wanted to film this? a rush of excitement flooded your quivering body, and you smiled at him. “y-you..haah..wanna film this?”
sukuna was delighted by your eagerness, slamming his fingers in hard enough to make you jolt. juices spilled around the base of where his skin met your leaking hole, god, what a sight.
“wanna have your moans for later. you know how hard i fuck my fist just to your face?” god, you didn’t know. but you wanted to. he pressed record, starting to finger you harder. the camera picked up all your sweet sounds, as well as the even sweeter sight or your fucked out face.
“fuck..mmh, god!” you whined, pushing back against his fingers greedily. “y-yeah..you said so in your letters.” you panted, loving the way he looked at you instead of your recorded self.
a strained laugh left his throat at that, his thumb pressing down on your clit and rolling it. “want you to sample these sounds baby, sneak ‘em in a song.” he groaned at the thought, grip on the phone tight, “can you do that for me?”
you nodded without hesitation, breathing getting heavier as he abused the perfect spot inside you with every curl of his fingers. “a-anything..i’ll do anything f’you..”
“yeah? even cum all over my fingers?” he asked, keeping his unfair pace steady. “give it to me, baby.”
“k-kuna!” you squealed, kicking your legs once more uselessly as you came undone. your walls clamped around his fingers, juices gushing out around the base. he fucked you though it until your foot was weakly pushing at his chest for mercy. the video was turned off immediately after your orgasm, he needed both hands on you.
sukuna extracted his fingers, filthy strings of slick following him. his hand immediately went to his cock, pumping it a few times and using your cum as lube. “y’ready for me, baby?” he asked, pressing the head against your overstimulated hole.
despite that, you still nodded, spreading your thighs further for him before wrapping them around his waist. as if to urge him inside you faster. “mmh..please..”
any other time, he’d probably make you specify what you wanted—but he needed to be inside you too bad for that. he slowly pushed in, the tip of his cock was thick and heavy, the stretch stung and made you suck in a hiss of air. “fuckkkk..!” you whined, panting as he filled your tight pussy to the aching brim.
sukuna groaned, pushing inch by inch until he was as deep as he could go. “so damn tight..god, what a perfect pussy.” he breathed, his hands grabbing at your hips. “s’this what you dreamed of? to be stuffed full of my cock?”
you nodded quickly, salty tears streaming down your cheeks. he leaned forward, collecting the droplets on his tongue—he couldn’t waste any of you. his lips stayed on your face, as if to butter you up before he ruined you. “i dreamed of it too. but unlike you, i knew i’d have you one way or another.”
he pulled out slowly, setting a leisure pace so he didn’t hurt you. he knew he was too big to get reckless. his tip dragged along your slick walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“kuna…” you panted, legs tightening around him. “m’good now..you can—“ you were cut off by an almost punishing thrust, one that sent your tits bouncing and your back arching.
he began to fuck into you like an animal, each ruthless drive of his hips had you sobbing and clawing at his back helplessly. god, it felt so good. the feeling of him ruining you, the sound of skin slapping every time he fucked into you, all of it. it was filthy the way you moaned for him, long strings and chains of pleas poured out of you like a faucet.
“that’s it, baby. get loud for me.” he panted, sweat gulfing down his broad chest. he yanked your hips in tandem with his punishing thrusts, his cock pulsing and twitching whenever a tear fell down your perfect face. your cervix was practically taking a beating, the slurping sounds of you sucking him in only egged him on more.
the bed groaned and creaked below your connected bodies, the headboard banging against the wall in a way your senses didn’t even register. you kept eye contact with him the whole time, you hardly even let yourself blink. “k-kuna..f-feels so good..”
a teethy grin appeared on his face, and he didn’t even try to hide his moans. he was loud and unashamed. “yeah? tell me about it.” he demanded, clearly loving the way your voice cracked for him.
you wracked your brain for a thought, already cock drunk beyond belief. drool dripped down your chin, each brutal thrust forcing air out of your lungs and a moan from your previously cum painted throat. “mm..s-so deep..c-can feel you in my stomach..” you panted, a sharp thrust eliciting an even sharper cry.
sukuna looked almost fascinated, more so at the little bump that jumped on your lower stomach whenever he slammed back inside you. he pressed down on it, making you squeal. “mmh? feel that baby? i belong in this pussy. it was made for me, only me.” he panted, a crazed look in his eye.
it was too much, too overwhelming, too filthy. in a haze of desperation, you wiggled your hips, trying to escape the consuming feeling, to have a moment of mercy. but he didn’t accept that, no, he yanked you back on his cock so harshly you almost screamed. and you loved it.
“don’t run from it. is that why you wrote all those letters, stalked me?” his voice was condescending and oh so convincing, “just to run from my cock when it gets too hard to take?”
you whimpered at the mean turn he’d taken again, as he kept fucking you like he was trying to discard everything in you that wasn’t him. “n-no! no, i’ll take ittt!” your stomach tightened again, and you were sure it wasn’t from him pressing on the bump he was creating. “kuna..k-kuna i’m—c-close again..”
sukuna kept his pace, continuing to slam into you and wrack every bone in your body with every ruthless stroke. your juices were coating his pubic bone, spurting out like small splashes whenever he drove back in. “i know you are, you’re so damn obvious.” he chuckled, groaning at the way your walls grew even tighter somehow. “cum all over my cock, now. god..such a slut, my fuckin’ slut.”
you came again, your pussy convulsing almost wildly around his cock as your breaths came out in ragged, pleased sobs. but he didn’t stop—only for a moment, just to flip you over. you were on your hands and knees, hardly able to hold yourself up. your body felt utterly boneless, it didn’t help that you were so overstimulated it nearly hurt. but the feeling was numb whenever you’d feel his sweaty abs press against your back. you wanted to lick them.
your head hung low, but then your eyes caught something—one of your letters. a weak whimper left you when the recognition washed over your clouded senses—he still read them? in fact, there was a cum stain on the left hand side. “y-you—“
“—read it.” he ordered, cracking a sharp slap across your ass when you hesitated. his hips kept slamming into you, cock ruining your insides beyond belief. “read it out loud, baby. go on.”
you whimpered pathetically, tears clouding your vision. your face was a mess of desperation, tears, and drool—all poured an mixed together in a concoction that was perfectly sukuna’s. you squinted a bit, trying to read your sloppy writing.
“d-dear, sukuna..” you sniffled, “you don’t..know me..but i know you. we are smack! s-soulmates! i dream about..mghh! you e-every night, fuck-fucking myself asleep at the thought of being one of those girls in your movies.”
you felt his cock twitch inside you again, veins stirring the juices in your syrupy pussy. “keep going.” he said, slapping your ass again and listening to you wail. god, he loved how you cried for him.
“i-i want..want you t’ruin my life..i-i’d mmh..l-let you..” you panted, dark blobs starting to appear on the paper from where your tears fell—some hitting the cum stain. “n-no matter what it takes..m’gonna..make you all mine..”
that was enough for him. he pulled your head back by your hair, making you look over your shoulder at him. you sobbed pathetically, weak whimpers wracking you as he kept fucking your sore cunt.
“you still want me to ruin your life, baby? do you? answer me, do you?” there was an unhinged desperation in his voice, like hearing your answer would make or break his entire existence.
“mmhh—mhmm..!”
“use your words. say it, fucking say it. sweetheart. i need you to say it.”
“y-yes! p-please ruin my haah..life! r-ruin everything about me..!” you squealed, unable to even think anymore.
“then that song, the one with all those sweet noises you’re gonna make..” he started, voice so hoarse and grainy it was almost difficult to understand him at all. “it’ll be the last fucking song you release, you hear me? then we’ll go away, somewhere where i can have you all to myself.”
you nodded clumsily at that, god, it was your dream. at that moment, it felt like he was the only thing you needed in your life—above water, above oxygen. his cock pounding you ruthlessly made you feel so alive. “y-yes, yes, kuna!” you sobbed, “i’ll d-do it!”
an unhinged, guttural moan tore from his throat at that, everything he wanted was being given to him so easily. “that’s it, atta girl. maybe i should breed this tight little pussy right now.”
“y-yes! k-kuna please fill me upppp—!” your orgasm hurling towards you. you let out a loud, sinful cry, your release splattering all over his front and the sheets below you.
not even a second later, he buried himself to the hilt, and flooded your pussy with his warm cum. spurts painting your cervix like ownership, white trickling out of your hole where he plugged you up. you pulsed and clamped tightly around his cock, milking him for all he had.
you realized in that moment, even in that hazy mind of yours, you had placed yourself perfectly in the palm of ryomen sukuna’s hand.
INFO...toji x fem!reader, toji is slightly older, vouyerism, taking photos/videos, panty stealing, panty sniffing and licking, he sniffs your used dildo, masturbation, mentions of oral/p in v, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs appreciated
pervy neighbor!toji who is the older man that lives next door to you, just him and his two dogs that you occasionally see him outside with
pervy neighbor!toji who always greets you from his porch whenever you take your morning walk, a simple wave and nod, but his eyes linger at the crop top you’re wearing. Do you even have a bra on today?
pervy neighbor!toji who knows you live alone, no boyfriend, no roommate, just you and that dildo you use nearly every night
pervy neighbor!toji who can see you fucking yourself from his bedroom window. He wonders if you do it on purpose. Your blinds are wide open and you’re there in all your glory, tits bouncing, ass recoiling, trying so desperately to get yourself off
pervy neighbor!toji who is quick to pull out his phone, recording you riding your dildo while watching porn on your laptop while he simultaneously jerks his cock in the other hand, leaking and throbbing as he matches your pace
pervy neighbor!toji who doesn’t expect you to come knocking on his door in the evening, a pretty thing like you standing there, staring up at him through thick lashes, tits full and fill out your shirt just right
“What do you need, darling?”
“Hi, Mr. Fushiguro! Um, this is really embarrassing but do you know anything about how to fix a broken light switch? The one in my kitchen wont work.” You frown at him, fiddling with your hands.
“I’ll be right over,” he smirks. “Let me grab my tools.”
“Oh my gosh! Thank you so much! I’ll be in the house!” He watches you walk off, eyes locked onto your ass, wondering if you’ve ever done anal before, thinking about the sounds you’d make if he shoved his fat cock into your tight little holes.
pervy neighbor!toji who follows you to your kitchen, you point out the broken switch, flicking it up and down, but nothing happens.
“See? Nothing,” you huff.
“I see,” he chuckles, grabbing a screwdriver from his bag. “I’ll have it fixed in no time. Don’t worry your pretty little head. Don’t you have a boyfriend to do this for ya?” He struts over. He knows you don’t, but it’s better to hear it come from your mouth.
“Mmm, no,” you mumble. “But it’s okay, you’re here at least,” you giggle. “I’ll be upstairs showering if anything. Thank you!” You run off.
pervy neighbor!toji who only takes max 5 minutes to fix the switch. It was just some loose wiring. But he takes it upon himself to walk upstairs where he can hear the water running. The door to your bedroom is cracked, an invitation to him. There it is, that dildo you use right on your nightstand
pervy neighbor!toji who grabs it, the silicone heavy in his hand, he can see your dried juices on it—must’ve used it recently.
“Dirty girl.” He smiles to himself, inching his face closer as he sniffs it, smelling your scent. A low groan rumbles from his throat, cock hardening in his jeans
pervy neighbor!toji who digs through your dirty laundry, finding a cute pair of lace panties. He licks his lips, putting the fabric right up against his nose and sniffing it. Of course he stuffs them in his pocket for later
pervy neighbor!toji who’s back downstairs after you get out your shower, pretending that he just finished with the light. You walk in with too tight of a tank top, nipples peaking through the fabric, and shorts that are just short enough that he can almost see your ass
“You fixed it! Ugh, thank you!” You smile, hugging him tightly.
His arms slides around you, hand inching down your lower back. He takes note of your shampoo, something with coconut, something sweet—god, you smell so fucking edible
“I definitely need to repay you!”
pervy neighbor!toji who thinks of plenty ways you can repay him. Maybe by riding his cock like you do your dildo? Or maybe letting him fuck you while having you in headlock? Or maybe letting him get a taste of your creamy pussy? There’s plenty of ideas running through his head
“No need. Come by if anything, darling.” He waves you off, walking out your front door. He shoves his hand into his pocket, fingers rubbing the fabric of your panties
pervy neighbor!toji who, you guessed it, jerks himself off that night, back to back orgasms, watching the one of many videos he has of you while he sniffs and licks your panties. His cum is everywhere, a sticky mess between his fingers, on his stomach, your panties, his balls. Everywhere.
“Wanna fucking—hah, shit—repay me? Huh? You will. I’ll make sure of it,” he says through gritted teeth.
I KNOW YOU WANT ME, SO WHY WON’T YOU ACT LIKE IT ?
sum: when you reject fratjo because of his playboy reputation, can his frat brothers—and real brother—help him win you over & prove he’s not a player ?
NICE GUY TACTICS #1: STOP TALKING, START LISTENING !
taught by: nanami kento
“maybe if you listened to y/n as much as you spoke, she’d finally give you a chance.”
ΣX
at a desk behind a bookcase somewhere in birge-carnegie library, nanami kento has a book in his hands & sato gojo’s voice in his ears.
“—rich, handsome, charismatic, compassionate,” sato counts the words on his fingers. “i’m all these things and y/n still rejected me! can you believe it, kenny?”
nanami kento does not give a fuck.
4PM thursday means a box of timbits & the latest volume of nanami’s new favorite BL manhwa. he’s trying to root for cirrus as he pursues his love interest, skylar, but sato gojo’s whining in his ears makes concentrating very, very difficult. nanami snaps his book shut.
“first of all, can you please sit like a child of God?”
across from him, sato gojo is all loose limbs & no decorum; legs open & spread over the mahogany table as he leans back just enough to rock in the wooden chair. he has his arms folded behind his head but when kento snaps, he sits up. his lips are tugged in a stubborn, trying-to-be-cute frown:
“kento,” sato pouts. “help me.”
nanami kento drags a palm over his face. his collar feels tight on his neck & his fingers twitch over his book but sato has his lips pouting & lashes fluttering across from him. if helping out means sato will leave him alone to focus on reading lost in the cloud, who is he to refuse?
RULE #1: TALK LESS, LISTEN MORE !
sato gojo finds you somewhere on the second floor.
he didn’t mean to find you, really. heaven knows he was only on the way to the bathroom, snapchat map clearly not open to your location. at the desk you have your knees to your chest & a marker in your teeth as you frown at your textbook, and sato has to swallow the ache in his throat because your lips are all pouty & glossy & bruised against the marker-cap. fuck.
he strolls over, smile easy & hands in his pockets like you don’t make him shed nerves by the pint.
“y/n l/n,” he grins, leaning over the chair across from you. “fancy seeing you here.”
“don’t make me reject you twice in one week, sato.”
sato gojo bites his lip. your eyes don’t care to meet his as you speak & sato can only watch as you twirl your marker in your teeth. god, you’re so pretty. and god, you’re so mean, shutting him down every time he tries to speak to you because of his ‘playboy reputation’. bullshit.
he’s silent for a beat. “you have sharpie on your nose.”
you blink, hands slowly lifting to your face to rub at your nose. your fingers come back stained in black, & sato gojo can only bite back a smile as you frown at your palms.
“oh my god,” you groan.
“cute,” sato chuckles, pulling out the chair to sit across from you. you’re frowning at him now, lips curled in distrust. but sato doesn’t miss the heat in your cheeks, the glint in your eyes. he makes himself comfortable & leans forward over the table:
“so what’s got you so mad you’re drawing on your face?”
you frown, but sato still gazes at you with that stupid grin & a twinkle in his eyes. you sigh, licking your molars, eyes flitting back to your textbook.
“my group mates,” you tap your marker. “they dumped all the work on me, again. something about me being the ‘smart one’ anyways.”
sato nods, but his attention is split. half of his mind is on the way your gloss spoils in the heat. the other half’s focused on how your lashes flutter even though you’re grumbling. his stomach aches.
“i get that, y’know.”
you blink up at him. “you do?”
he misses the snark in your tone. “people expecting stuff from me, it’s exhausting.” he leans forward, takes the marker from between your fingers & taps it against your knuckles. “for me, it’s girls.”
“…girls?”
“mhm,” he’s still playing with your knuckles, tapping the marker-cap to the bone, lifting each finger & cocking his head like he’s inspecting them. “tons of ‘em, blowing up my phone just because i was nice to them once,” he tugs your thumb wistfully before leaning back. “it gets tiring.”
“…girls.”
“yeah,” sato nods. “girls.”
it’s silent for a beat, sato’s eyes boring into yours. his gaze is tender, nose red, & the marker that was once in your hands is somehow between his lips. his lashes flutter in the light.
you can’t believe he’s deadass.
you’re packing your books now, orgo chem & other textbooks shoving into your book bag. sato watches with his brows knit in confusion. “hey, hey—where are you going—?!”
you leave the library and don’t look back.
NANAMI’S REMARK : WHAT KIND OF MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE IS THIS…?
NICE GUY TACTICS #2: PLAYBOY? NAH, PAYBOY !
taught by: toji zenin
“girls like you for your face but stay for the black card. stop talking and start spending.”
ΣX
it’s tuesday again, and toru gojo’s room is filled with practically everyone but himself. sukuna’s palming his dick with his phone in one hand & toru’s bedsheets covering the other. sato’s twirling a beach ball even though it’s the peak of spring. toji zenin is tugging black tights over his thick thighs, upper half already covered in an equally tight black leotard.
“so,” sato hugs the beach ball to his chin. “new job?”
“dance instructor for katseye,” toji grumbles, struggling to fit the tights over his ass. sato bites his cheek.
“what happened with skai jackson? thought you were working as her personal AI prompt writer.”
“fired. and the brat says AI is bad anyways.”
sato nods. on the bed beside him, sukuna has blown his load & is laid back against toru’s sheets. he has a hand behind his head & the other resting lazy against his cock. “nice ass, zenin.”
toji doesn’t look up, still shifting the tights over his buttocks. “don’t talk about my ass with your dick in your hands.”
sato drops the ball to his lap and groans. “can you guys believe i’m still having no luck with y/n?”
“oh, brother.”
sato shoots sukuna a glare. he slumps against the wall, “i’ve tried listening to her, just like kento suggested. no fucking luck.”
in front of the mirror, toji zenin has succeeded in fitting the tights over his taut ass. sukuna asks him to do a spin & toji tells him to fuck off. sato watches the exchange with a slight pout before his eyes drop to toji’s crotch. damn. he was no expert in print catching, but that dick was definitely a D+.
he shakes the image of toji’s dick away. “i really don’t know what to do about y/n.”
toji picks up his duffel bag. “you’re a gojo, right? you got money?”
“yeah?”
“then use it, dumbass,” toji grunts. “pull out that black card and pay your way into her good books.”
sato only frowns. “y/n doesn’t seem like the materialistic type, though.”
“all women are materialistic,” toji mutters, fumbling through drawers for his keys. sukuna throws them at his head, & toji’s smart enough to pick them up with a tissue to avoid getting precum on his hands. “i’m not gonna ask why you were with my keys. and sato, take my advice if you want a chance with this chick.”
toji exits the room. sukuna has his dick out again, and sato contemplates his next steps as sukuna moans in pleasure beside him.
# SHOW TIME !
at the campus bookstore, there’s a line of 20 students glaring holes into your back.
four textbooks, a lab coat, & five other things you’ll use for class & never touch again. at 214 college street, there’s a heat in your cheeks & an ache in your stomach as the cashier hands you back your card. declined.
“sorry, can you just try again? or could i split the total between two cards—?”
“miss, i’m afraid you’re holding up the line.”
your lips are already bruised & half-bitten when someone sighs loudly behind you. you’re scrambling for another card with too many books in your hands but before you can find one something hard presses against your back.
“she’s with me. put everything she has on here.”
gojo sato has his chest smushed against your back & lalique’s encre noire pricking at your nose. he leans over you to hand his black card to the cashier, who takes it from him with glee.
you tense from the feel of his skin. you bite your lip as you watch the cashier swipe the card, & you’re fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.
“relax,” sato murmurs in your ear. “i’ve got you.”
and you do. your shoulders slump into him. your breathing steadies. you don’t even mind the way sato’s hair tickles your ear as he leans over you, or the way his palm has climbed up to meet your hip. he mumbles a sorry as he presses you closer to the counter. his palm doesn’t fall afterward, & your spine tingles when his thumb brushes your side.
“here you go!”
the cashier hands you the bags with a smile as stretched as plastic. sato takes the bags instead, and you watch, wide-eyed & stupefied, as he carries the heavy load all in one toned hand. he walks slightly ahead for a bit before he reaches out his palm behind him. he makes a grabby hand & you take it with a blink.
he gently tugs you forward to walk beside him. he’s grinning, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
his smile grows. you’re peering up at him with wide eyes & god you’re so cute, you’re always so fucking cute, and god. his heart’s all swollen & sticky in his chest.
his hand shifts to your waist now, brushing up & down gently. “good thing i was close by, right?”
“thank you—“
“no need to thank me, sweetheart.” he hums, pressing you flush against his side as you walk together. “i know people like you are usually impoverished. that’s why you study so hard, right?”
you blink, “what?”
sato doesn’t hear you. “i saw you struggling to pay,” he sing-songs, eyes shut & grin pleased. “so i generously thought to step in. pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to pay anyways.”
you stop in your tracks. his thumb is still rubbing slow circles on your hip. “sato.”
“hm, baby?”
“don’t ever show your face to me again.”
you leave him on the street with your books in his hands & his heart in his throat.
TOJI’S REMARK : 🤦🏿♂️
NICE GUY TACTICS #3: LET HER COME TO YOU !
taught by: geto suguru
“you’re doing too much. sometimes you gotta give girls space and let them come to you.”
ΣX
“i’m actually creasing!”
it’s thursday again, and sato gojo is sitting cross-legged on his bed with sukuna’s head resting lazy on his lap. through his macbook screen geto suguru is laughing hysterically, tears in his eyes as sukuna snickers on sato’s leg with a palm clutched over his mouth.
they’re all wheezing—with the sole exception of sato gojo, of course.
suguru wipes his tears on his cashmere knit sweater. he’s looking all neat & proper, hair tied back & the picture of perfection. suguru is away in manchester for a study abroad semester. sato misses him badly.
till he opens his mouth again.
“i can’t lie, yeah,” suguru dabs at his eyes. “you’ve absolutely bottled it.”
“can you drop the british accent? you’re a first gen japanese immigrant.”
“allow it,” suguru shakes his head. sukuna is throwing up peace signs at the camera so balloons rise up on the facetime screen. “to call the girl you like impoverished…” suguru says through balloons, “just pack it in, mate.”
sukuna props his head up so his face is on the screen. his smile is clumsy: “your boy’s a proper wasteman.”
suguru grins, “is he?”
sato groans. “i was being a provider. following toji’s advice.”
“mind you, the man can’t even provide for himself.”
suguru snickers at that. “not too much, ryomen. and sato, don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”
“i don’t think i’m trying enough.”
“i think you’re trying in the wrong direction,” geto leans back, all calm & cashmere soft. “give her some breathing room—some space. let her come to you.”
sukuna bends his hands into a heart & a heart bubble appears on-screen. “might be your only option at this point. suguru, can i play on your sims 4 save file?”
“absolutely not.”
sukuna breaks the heart.
sato gojo has his back slumped over, brows knit, & lips twisted in concentration.
“let her come to me…got it.”
# SHOW TIME !
sato gojo is stalking you.
you’re on the way to class with a pen in your ear & a patience worn thin. he was three seats away at the local café. two in the campus library. now you’re walking through the courtyard & sato gojo is leaning back against a bulletin board like his eyes aren’t following your every move.
he has your books in your hand from the other day. is he wearing your lab coat?
you shake the thoughts away & keep walking. you’ve got a test in two hours. a project due in three. screw sato gojo & his rich kid privilege & clumsy smile & bright blue eyes and—
sato scurries behind you just to lean back coolly against yet another bulletin board. what the hell is his problem?
you snap, whipping around. “sato! what are you doing ?!”
his eyes widen. he’s still leaned against the bulletin board, your books in his arms & his hair messy-cute. there’s red on his cheeks & his eyes widen before he fixes his face & plasters on that smooth smirk:
“i’m letting you come to me.”
you blink. “no, i’m going to class.”
“and then you’re coming to me afterwards.”
“no, i don’t fucking think i am.”
he slumps forward as if your words are a weight on his shoulders. he’s pouting now as he walks up to you, your books hugged tightly to his chest. “i owe you an apology.”
“do you?”
“yes—god, yes i do.” he’s close now, too close. “y/n, i’m so fucking sorry. i wasn’t thinking straight. i was trying so hard to impress you and look like a provider but ended up sounding like some classist prick. you’re fucking amazing—strong, smart, independent—god, you’re my inspiration. please don’t make me stay away from you,” he clutches his chest. “my heart can’t fucking take it.”
sato gojo looks like an idiot.
your lab coat shrugged lazy over his shoulders, thick books pressed to his chest & a gaze too tender. he keeps his eyes on yours but his pupils shift like they’re heavy with nerves. you bite your lip. fuck.
“i forgive you,”
he blinks, straightens up. “really?”
“yes, really,” you murmur, picking out each book from his hold. he watches as you pluck them into your arms, your nose flushed & lashes fluttering, & his gaze is all misty. his heart goes sticky in his chest.
“i really like you.”
oh fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. he meant it, oh god, he meant it, but he didn’t mean to fucking say it and—
“i know,” you peer up at him, voice soft & gaze gentle in the heat. “walk me to class?”
he takes your books back into his arms. your lecture is two hours too long but sato gojo waits outside the whole time.
GETO’S REMARK : NEAR DISASTER; BUT CHEERS, MATE !
NICE GUY TACTICS #4: ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE PRIZE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“act like you’ve already got her, and you finally will. law of assumption or whatever.”
ΣX
in toru gojo’s room, ryomen sukuna is playing the sims 4 because he has no respect for suguru’s wishes.
sato gojo is on his bed, cheeks flushed & head dizzy. he’s still brushing a thumb over his palm, heat prickling at his skin as he remembers the way you held on when he picked you up after class. your hands were so soft, & you’re so pretty, & gojo sato is utterly fucked.
you’d frowned up at him when you found him waiting but let him hold your hand & guide you to the library regardless. sato tries to breathe. the air goes sticky in his lungs.
at toru’s desk, sukuna is drowning geto’s sim. “why are you smiling like an idiot?” he mutters.
“ryomen,” sato exhales. “i think i’m in love.”
sukuna scoffs, then grins when suguru’s sim kitchen catches fire. “so? you guys are dating now?”
“not yet,” sato sighs, easing into the covers. “to be honest, i’m not even sure she likes me. at least, not the way i like her.”
“mm. i think she just tolerates you.” / “shut the fuck up.”
“listen,” sukuna’s typing cheat codes into the game now. “you want her to be yours? act like she already is. it’s the law of assumption.”
sato blinks. “you believe in manifestation?”
“i use subliminals. how do you think i got my dick so big?”
sato doesn’t comment. “by the way, suguru’s sim asked yours for a divorce. just thought you should know that.”
sato sits up, suddenly serious. “new save file. now.”
# SHOW TIME !
sigma-chi’s frat house is blaring speakers & bodies pressed together on a friday evening.
sato gojo has a cup in his hands & liquor in his teeth. beside him sukuna’s on a chair chugging beer, porn playing in his headphones so he can have a dick print. his technique seems to be working—two bodies to the left, there’s a girl & her friend. sato overhears them conclude sukuna must be a D.
in sato’s ears, however, he’s playing an attract your crush! subliminal—hand-picked & recommended by ryomen sukuna, of course. he has his hands in his pockets, cap slumped & limbs lazy—until he spots you.
glossed hair, glazed lips & your tongue in your cheek. you’re wearing a skirt too short to be sweet & now sato has his tongue in his cheek too. you’re shifting around as if nervous—as if you’d rather not be here, & sato’s heart aches with something akin to want.
he doesn’t realize when his body starts moving.
you’re faced away from him, lips bitten, so he takes your hand from behind. you jolt, “oh—hi.”
“hi, baby,” he mutters, guiding you closer. “you look pretty.”
“thank you,” you murmur, breathless. sato’s arms loop around your hips. you only lift your palms to rest on his chest.
“have you had anything to drink?”
you shake your head, and sato’s hands are climbing higher now, under your top & grazing your spine. his hands are cold, so cold.
sukuna’s subliminal is still buzzing in his ears. he’s always been a daring boy, so he takes the leap. cups your cheek with a palm. brushes your waist when you shiver. “i can get you something.”
“that would be nice.”
he nods & guides you towards the bar.
——
sato gojo’s not sure how he’s done it.
you’re so pliant today. soft & unguarded, warm edges & caramel-sweet. even now he has your back pressed against his chest at the bar, hands on your hips, your perfume in his lungs.
you look up at him, “sato?” and he wants to kiss you because your eyes are too big & your voice is too pretty.
“mm?”
he leans down to hear you & his nose brushes your neck. his thumb is brushing circles on the dip beneath your waistband.
“do you…um. do you actually like me?”
oh god.
sato wants to say he’s never liked anyone more. that last night he dreamt about the shape of your frown, that his ribs ache when you ignore him, that his heart scraped against his throat the day he tried to pay for you but he messed up & you left, that he practiced his apology in the mirror till his throat hurt & if you ever said you liked him back he’d swallow his pride & cry.
but the subliminal still hums in his ears. sukuna’s words are still a ghost in the heat. ‘act like you’ve already got her!’
so he clears his throat. puts on that fake confidence like frat boys do.
“dunno,” but his hand grips your hip. “why? you want me to give you a chance?”
you still in his hold. sato gojo has fucked up once again.
SUKUNA’S REMARK : DAMN.
NICE GUY TACTICS #5: EGO IS THE ENEMY !
taught by: toru gojo
“i’ve played these games before. trust me when i say to just be yourself.”
ΣX
that evening, sato gojo has his knees against the tile & acid in his jugular.
he’s bent over the toilet seat, tongue curled & bone in his stomach. toru gojo has his hand in sato’s hair, holding it back as his twin brother spills his guts into the toilet bowl.
“i fucked up,” he rasps, then pukes again. “toru—toru. i fucked up,”
his nerdy brother bites his lip. it’s a sight for sore eyes—his twin on the bathroom floor with split lip & bruised knees, babbling over a girl with red cheeks & eyes watery. toru picks up a towel to wipe his brother’s face. “you need to calm down—you made a mistake. it’s not the end of the world.”
“it is, fuck, it is.” sato’s tears fall faster than toru can wipe. he’s shaking, “you know this isn’t the first time? that i called her poor?” toru winces. “and she let it go like a fucking saint and—hic—i still fucked up. i hurt her again.”
sato’s nose is blotchy red & his eyes are swollen puffy. the tears don’t stop. “i always hurt her. toru, why do i always hurt her?”
toru kneels down to his brother’s shaking figure, one hand on his cheek & the other dabbing his tears. “because you keep trying to perform. keep acting like something you’re not.” toru pauses. “like i was doing before i finally got my girlfriend.”
sato remembers—how he and his frat brothers gave toru a bunch of ‘playboy tactics’ to woo over his girl. sato shakes his head, sniffling. “i’m not pretending. i’m not fucking pretending.”
“you are,” toru wipes sato’s nose with his sleeve, then quickly regrets it. “i’ve been busy with projects but i know how you get, sato. acting all suave like you don’t overthink everything she says. like you don’t ask for advice on reddit forums. like you don’t make geto roleplay with you so you can decide exactly how to approach her.”
toru pauses, takes in his brother’s sore eyes & tear-stained cheeks. he hugs his brother’s head: “i know how you get.”
sato goes limp in his arms. “i really, really like her.”
“i know,” toru squeezes. “we all do.”
sato lets his head fall limp in his brother’s neck. he can’t help but wish that it was you.
—-
sato gojo has typed your name four times into his notes app because he likes the way it looks on his screen.
then he deletes it, then types it again, then deletes it with tears in his eyes. there’s still alcohol in his throat & his head is too fucking dizzy. it hurts to breathe & sato gojo can’t fucking think.
y/n.
it takes him three tries to spell your name into his contacts. not because he can’t spell, but because there are tears clouding his eyes & his throat hurts whenever he tries to sound your name out. y/n y/n y/n. no search results. then he finds your name saved under ‘baby :)‘ & he’s finally able to breathe again.
he’s still half-drunk, and he can’t really see, and there’s a wound in his chest & his thumbs are shaking so he prays to god for strength as he types. sato gojo hasn’t been to a church since he was eleven. he can’t even spell the word messiah.
SATO:
Hy [deleted]
Hi
y/n i’m so sorry
for everything
ikm such a fucking idiot
when u asked me if i reallly liked u and i said idk and u froze in my arms i felt my heart fucking stop in my chest y/n i’m so sorry
i like you i like you so bad
i don’t have the confudence to say it out loud to your face im so sorry
*confidence
i want to be a better man for you
i’m sorry for always hurting you i try not to i swear i do but i always think too hard and say the wrong things i swear i never ever mean to hurt you never ever
i liek you so much i’ve never liked any girl the way i like you ever in my life
i take acantability
accowntabikity
accountant
accountabity
i’m sorry im accountable
sato’s eyes blur. he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the tears. his hands are shaking but he prays again and he’s able to type just one more message.
SATO: ilikeyouilikeyouilikeyouilikeyou
the typing bubble pops up in the chat. he passes out before he can see your message.
——
“where is he?”
sato gojo has his nose beneath the covers, lashes sticky with dried tears & want. his hearing is muffled & his head is dizzy so when the lights flick on he retreats further into the covers.
toru gojo kneels in front of him. “sato. wake up.”
“mmrrnnhhhh.”
toru sighs. you walk up next to him and kneel in front of the bed. “sato?”
he stills. he knows that voice anywhere.
slowly, agonizingly, he pulls down the covers. just a little, just an inch—just because his nose is still blotchy & his eyes are still puffy & he doesn’t want you to see him like this. he opens his eyes & god. if this is a dream—messiah. please don’t wake him up.
you are so beautiful & your eyes are so big & sato gojo can’t believe you’re right here in front of him.
“sato. hi.”
he tries to say hi back. his lips part but he can’t seem to get anything out.
toru rises to his feet. “i’ll get him some water. be right back.”
it’s just you and him now; sato gojo and the only girl he’s ever loved. is it too early to use the word love? you’re resting your chin on folded arms right in front of him & sato does think he’s in love. he hasn’t even properly told you he likes you. he has to hurry up and say it.
you’re so close your noses are touching. you’re so pretty & you smell so sweet. “sato.”
“hi, baby—” but then he coughs. “hi, y/n.”
you giggle at that. sato realizes he’s never heard you giggle before. he wants you to giggle again. can you giggle again?
“i got your messages,”
ah. he swallows. “i texted you back and you didn’t respond. i got worried so i came here.”
sato can’t believe his ears. you worried about him?
he blinks. “i love you.”
your brows furrow.
“i’m sorry for saying it,” his voice is small, shy, slightly muffled beneath the covers. “but i think it a lot. and i’m sorry for loving you because i know i’m not worthy of your love, or of you in general, but if i said i like you that wouldn’t be correct, because the way my heart feels when i think about you is more than ‘like’,”
he breathes. “so i’m sorry for loving you. but i still love you. i’m sorry.”
you don’t know what to say to that. sato gojo is still peering at you—lashes sticky, blue eyes dim yet brimming with light. he’s retreated further into the covers now so all you see is white wisps of hair & those bright blue eyes.
you tug down the covers. he freezes, breathing heavy, eyes wide with both fear & adoration as you climb on top of him.
“say it again.”
“i…like you.”
“no, the other one.”
oh. “i love you.”
sato gulps. “i love you. i love you i love you i love you—“
you press your lips to his own as he holds your hips. he still says ‘i love you’ between your lips.
BONUS #1 — Y/N’S MESSAGES !
——
baby :)
😂😂 lol
you don’t expect me to acc believe this right?
do you know how many times you’ve hurt me these last few weeks and i let it go because my dumbass was in love with you?
*liked you
i was vulnerable and asked if you truly liked me and u said u don’t know and some other dumbass shit
that’s so fucked
you’re so fucked
you’re not fair to me that’s not fair sato
you say you’re sorry and you like me but you can’t even say it to my face? how is that fair? huh sato?
sato
sato?
are you okay
sato
i’m coming over
BONUS #2 – EPILOGUE !
it’s friday again, the end of the week, and sato gojo is at the airport with a grin on his face. his best friend is finally back in town & sato is practically vibrating.
“well, if it isn’t our casanova.”
“suguru!” sato tackles him in a hug. geto laughs, feet wobbly, patting at sato’s back affectionately. “you’ve got a girl now, mate. back up a bit, yeah?”
sato pulls back, frowning. “no more british accents.”
suguru smiles, “no more.”
in the car they talk about everything. sato should be driving but instead he plays passenger princess, recounting the last few weeks without him.
“so you’ve finally gotten the girl.” geto hums.
“yup.”
“and you told her you loved her before you even started dating.”
sato bites his lip. “yes.”
“you’re down bad.”
“i know.”
“i’m glad you’re happy, y’know,” geto is talking but sato’s phone dings in his lap. that special notification sound he’s set up only for you.
mine🫀: are you still picking up geto?
sato grins.
—
sato: you miss me, baby?
mine🫀: shut up
i’m still at the library
sato: i know babygirl i’m omw
mine🫀: nooo don’t come here
i need to study and u won’t let me focus
sato: thought i was your favorite distraction? 💔
mine🫀: ha. ha. don’t come here
sato: too late already at the exit
mine🫀: SATO
—-
“sato? are you listening?”
“sorry,” sato mutters, locking his phone. his knee is bouncing & his chest feels light. god, he’s so in love. “take the next left. suguru, do you know ryomen fucked with our sims’ marriage?”
“he what?”
“i need you to make a sim for y/n. i want to marry her instead,” sato hums. he’s clicking his phone on & off now, clearly not waiting for your next notification.
“i told that fucker not to touch my game.”
sato licks his canines. “that boy doesn’t listen.”
suguru’s grumbling now, something about a ‘good for nothing porn addict’ and ‘fuckass exhibitionist kink’ but sato only hums along in the passengers seat. then his phone dings again.
mine🫀: [Image Attachment]
he clicks on it way too fast.
and it’s a picture of you, phone in your lap & pouting down at the camera. your hair’s all messy in your face & your lips are bent in the cutest frown. god, you’re so beautiful. god god god.
he licks his lips. types back: ‘i love you my baby.’
“sato—? sato? what the fuck, man.” suguru’s still gripping the wheel, eyes on the road. “i’ve been talking for two minutes. who’s got you smiling like that?”
five fratboys + one nerd. will you join them as they try (and fail) to romance the reader with each other’s help ? inc: fratjo(sato), nerdjo(toru) , toji , sukuna , geto , nanami
𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐕𝐀 ◞ NERDJO › AVAILABLE NOW !
toru gojo wants you bad. when the fratboys of sigma-chi — toji , sukuna , nanami , geto & his twin brother sato — come together to give him various ‘alpha male’ tactics used to manipulate women into falling in love , will he succeed in winning your heart , or will it blow up in his face ? wc: 4.5k
sato gojo has it all — the looks, the money, the popularity. but when the one girl he wants on campus rejects him because of his playboy reputation, can his frat brothers — and real brother — help him prove he’s not a player ? wc: 5.2k
toji zenin is at the end of his rope. drowning in student loans, child support and working himself to death while in college. when he falls for you, the pretty rich girl who frequents his shifts at the local supermarket, can his frat brothers help him hide his true identity? or will you find out and love him regardless? wc: 9.4k
when geto gets partnered up for a ‘fake family’ project with the girl of his dreams, it gives him the perfect opportunity to touch you like he owns you. but what happens when you keep laughing off his every attempt ? can his frat brothers help him go from ‘bestie’ to ‘boyfriend’? wc: 8.Ok
you and fratkuna are that one couple who breaks up & makes up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, football captain naoya zenin, can his frat brothers help him get you back ? wc: 13.9k
18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
okay. yes regulus and amy are both the annoying little siblings who look up to their older sibling with envy in their heart. but that is where the similarities stop!
amy march, is never ashamed of what she wants. is vain (perfect feet, perfect nose, perfect hair, focused on fashion, and social standing). dramatic outwardly (frequent outbursts, manuscript burning, tantrums), and wants a better life than her family provided (i.e. wants to marry rich to live comfortably forever).
she is considered the shining jewel of the family. the one to save them from destitution. as she grows up and matures, she also becomes the most socially aware of her place in society as a woman and how to use that to advance her social standing (marry fred vaughn). her family does everything in their power to put her in that position (aunt march taking her aside to give her propriety lessons, her ring, a trip to paris) HOWEVER, she also defies her family's expectations in favor of true love which is shocking to all (it literally KILLS aunt march (i jest, but yk. still.)). (is this giving sirius yet??? perfect beautiful heir meant to keep the family bloodline going, being groomed for it, but also being dramatic and annoying and mischievous (like amy drawing those mean portraits of her teacher isn't something sirius would do). and also a little vain but ultimately he matures and goes against familial expectations)
furthermore! regulus at the very least is secretive about what he really wants (double agent in the war trying to defeat voldemort from the inside without telling anyone hello). and either you subscribe to the belief that
1. he had a terrible family he didn't agree with but was too ashamed to admit his personal thoughts/feelings/emotions
or
2. he was going to stick with his family no matter the cost because the Black family was the most important thing in his life
(is this reading more jo now? fuck, or even beth ,,, if beth wasn't a symbol for childhood innocence and purity but was instead a more evil second thing). he watches sirius get the adoration, the friends, the freedom, and EVEN (if your a jegulusser like me) his man. (once again proving. regulus is NOT amy march. a better case would be made for amy's narrative foil...jo. IN MY OPINION).
amy is so external and regulus internalizes EVERYTHING! think of amy, outgoing amy, introducing herself to everyone, letting everyone know exactly who she is and what she wants (fred at the beach "im amy march...remember that name because im gonna come find you one day".) regulus would rather die. he is quite literally taking who he REALLY is and what he really wants to the grave lol.
fleamont potter with a bone condition that means he's wheelchair bound, and after what was a stupid injury from a prank which leads to some scans, james finds he has it too. when he gets his first cane he feels really insecure, but remus teaches him how to use it, how to be okay with it, and they design their canes and match them!
