𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘴 ও

۪ ݁ 𝟷𝟷 : 𝟷𝟷 ݁ ۪ ୧ ⊹　e 　　.　 𓏲𝄢 　　　　　　◠◠　my sanctuary 　 ⠀⠀⠀⠀　　⠀𓈒⠀⠀⠀⁺⠀𝜗　 𝜚

[ribbonsiess]

what made you join my blog of weirdos?

disclaimer ⨟ i don’t write often and i don’t write specific characters often aswell, so i’ll just put a list of fics i have written currently!

m.list ⤵︎

guava candy!

kento makes you do his work while cockwarming!

arkha corvus degradation or praise?

[obvhouse]

Don't forget, Avery

[tanblaque]

[krumbymatcha]

@alien-in-washington you have to see this one it's genuinely so peak and cool holy moly

[strawberrysoapcake]

Happy Pride to bisexual/pansexual people. You are not half gay. You are allowed to celebrate for the full month, not just the first half.

[strangergraphics]

ao3 headers & dividers requested by anonymous:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[elsietopia]

Mistrial

You and Higuruma have been destroying each other in court for three years. When you get trapped in an elevator together at a legal conference, three years of tension explodes. ─── 1628

CW: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT elevator sex power dynamics rivals to lovers aggressive/intense sexual energy public risk rough sex

You'd been opposing Higuruma Hiromi in court for three years.

Three years of sharp objections and sharper comebacks. Three years of him dismantling your arguments with surgical precision while you fought back with everything you had. Three years of the entire courtroom feeling the tension between you like a physical thing.

And three years of pretending you didn't find him absolutely infuriating in the most attractive way possible.

The legal conference was supposed to be neutral ground. A place where competitors could network professionally, attend seminars, and avoid each other in the hallways.

You'd managed it perfectly—until the hotel elevator.

You were alone, heading back to your room after a late dinner, when the doors slid open and he stepped inside. Higuruma Hiromi in an unbuttoned dress shirt, his blazer slung over one arm, his tie loose around his neck.

"Well," he said, a slight smirk playing at his lips as the doors closed behind him. "This is awkward."

"Incredibly," you agreed, pressing yourself against the opposite wall of the elevator. "What floor?"

"Floor 28. You?" he replied, pressing the button.

"Same," you said curtly. "We'll be on the same floor. How unfortunate."

"Devastatingly so," he replied, but his eyes were doing something different now. Something darker.

The elevator hummed as it rose, and you tried very hard not to notice the way he was looking at you. Like a predator who'd cornered its prey.

"Your closing argument today was weak," he said conversationally.

"Your cross-examination was predictable," you shot back.

"Predictable?" He laughed—a low, dangerous sound that sent heat spiraling down your spine. "I had you flustered for twenty minutes. I could see it in the way your hands shook when you objected."

"My hands didn't shake."

"They did," he said, stepping closer. The elevator suddenly felt impossibly small. "You were nervous. Worried I was winning over the jury."

"You weren't," you lied, and you both knew it.

"I was," he said, his voice dropping. "And you know it. Which is why you've been avoiding me all week."

"I have not—"

"You have," he interrupted, moving even closer. "You take the stairs instead of the elevator. You eat in your room instead of the dining hall. You've gone out of your way to not run into me."

You couldn't deny it. The truth was, being around him made it impossible to think clearly, and you needed to think clearly in order to compete against him.

"I'm being professional," you said, but your voice came out slightly breathless.

"You're being scared," he corrected, and now he was close enough that you could smell his cologne. Close enough that you could see the slight stubble on his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes. "Scared of this."

"There is no 'this,'" you said, but you didn't move away.

"Liar," he murmured, and his hand came up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "There's been a 'this' for three years. Every time you stand up to object, I think about how that fire would look directed at me in a completely different context. Every time you dismantle one of my arguments, I wonder what you'd be like if you put that sharp mind toward something other than destroying me in court."

Your pulse was racing. "Higuruma—"

"Tell me you don't feel it," he said, and his hand came up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Tell me that you don't go home after every hearing and think about this. About us. Tell me and I'll move to the other side of the elevator and we'll pretend this conversation never happened."

You couldn't tell him that. Because it would be a lie.

The elevator dinged softly as it passed the twentieth floor.

"This is insane," you whispered. "We're competitors. We're enemies."

"Are we?" he asked, and his other hand found your waist. Your breath caught at the contact. "Because I've been thinking we might be something else entirely."

"We can't—"

"I know," he said, and there was genuine regret in his voice. "Believe me, I know. But I'm done pretending."

His hands gripped your waist and suddenly he was pinning you against the elevator wall. Not roughly—but with the kind of controlled intensity that made your knees weak.

"What are you—" you started, but he kissed you before you could finish.

It was aggressive and possessive and everything three years of tension had promised. His lips were firm, demanding, and you opened your mouth to him immediately, meeting his intensity with your own. Your hands came up to his chest, but instead of pushing him away, you were gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

When he broke the kiss, you were both breathing hard.

"Twenty-third floor," he murmured against your lips. "We have maybe five minutes before this thing reaches your floor."

"Someone could—" you gasped.

"I don't care," he said flatly. "I've been waiting three years for this. I'm not waiting anymore."

He kissed you again, harder this time, and his hands moved from your waist to your thighs. He gripped them and suddenly he was lifting you, pressing you firmly against the wall of the elevator.

Your legs wrapped around him instinctively, and you could feel exactly how much he wanted you pressed against the apex of your thighs.

"God, you're infuriating," he groaned against your neck, his lips finding that sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. "Three years of watching you in court, watching you argue against me, watching you be absolutely brilliant and insufferable."

"Mmm," you gasped as his lips moved lower, across your collarbone. "You're one to talk."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me you want this."

"I want this," you breathed. "I want you."

That was all the permission he needed.

His hand came up to the neckline of your dress, and before you could process what was happening, he was pulling it down, revealing your breasts. You were braless—something you'd specifically done to feel sexy at the conference dinner, not expecting to end up like this.

"Perfect," he murmured, lowering his head. His mouth closed around one breast, and you cried out at the sensation, your head falling back against the elevator wall.

"Shhh," he said, his voice rough. "We don't want to alert the cameras."

You didn't have time to process that because his hands were moving, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you, and then the tip of him was pressing against your entrance.

"Tell me again," he said, his voice low and intense. "Tell me you want this."

"Yes," you breathed. "God, yes. Please."

He entered you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"That's it," he murmured, "take all of me."

Once he was fully inside, he paused, his forehead resting against yours. "Three years," he whispered. "I've imagined this for three years."

Then he was moving, his thrusts slow and deep and absolutely devastating. Every movement hit that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his movements becoming faster. "So tight. So perfect. How are you this perfect?"

"Faster," you demanded, and his dark laugh echoed in the small space.

"Demanding as always," he said, but he complied, his thrusts becoming harder, rougher. The elevator wall pressed into your back, and you loved it. The risk of being caught, the rawness of it all, the fact that this was Higuruma—your rival, your nemesis—absolutely destroying you in the best way possible.

He shifted, and suddenly he was hitting even deeper, and you cried out his name.

"That's right," he breathed against your ear. "Say my name. Let me hear what I do to you."

"Hiromi," you gasped, and something about saying his first name seemed to snap what little control he had left.

His movements became frantic, almost desperate. His hand came down between your bodies, finding your clit, and you were suddenly teetering on the edge.

"Come for me," he commanded. "I want to feel it. I want to know I did this to you."

You came hard, your entire body clenching around him, and he followed moments later, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you with a groan of your name.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just breathed. The elevator hummed around you.

Then the twenty-seventh floor dinged.

One more floor.

Higuruma carefully lowered you, letting your legs slide down his body as your feet found the floor. You were both breathing heavily, both trying to compose yourselves as he tucked himself back into his pants and you adjusted your dress.

Your hair was messy. Your lips were swollen. You looked absolutely wrecked.

And when you looked at him, he looked equally destroyed—his shirt unbuttoned, his tie still loose, his hair disheveled.

"Twenty-eighth floor," the elevator announced, and the doors began to slide open.

But before they fully opened, Higuruma grabbed your wrist gently, turning you to face him.

"This isn't over," he said, his eyes intense. "Not even close."

"What are you saying?" you asked, knowing exactly what he was saying but needing to hear it.

"I'm saying," he murmured, his hand coming up to cup your face one more time, "that in three years, we've both been running from this. From us. And I'm done running."

The doors opened fully now, revealing the hallway. Your floor.

"Come back to my room," he said. "2847. Right now. And we can figure out what we actually are instead of pretending it doesn't exist."

Your heart was pounding. Your body was still trembling from what had just happened.

And you realized that walking away right now would be the biggest mistake of your life.

"Okay," you whispered. "But first I need to—"

He kissed you again, soft and possessive.

"I know," he said. "Room 2843. I'll wait for you. And you better not keep me waiting."

As the doors began to close again, you watched him lean against the elevator wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

And you realized that three years of rivalry was about to become something infinitely more complicated.

continue on my freeroam ⬎

elsietopia's profile · freeroam

[cloudycloude]

my sweet apple

[komy-0o]

Orpheus and Eurydice type of tragedy ⚜️

[dracl-dragon]

@latileaf @starsoftheevening @itsgirlcraft

[justl-12]

Water family photo after they managed to pester urokodaki into taking off his mask

[polarkitt77]

when im reading smut and y/n’s tongue starts “lolling out”

[iamsoclone]

NOBLE ✦ heian!sukuna and his new arranged wife!reader...who barely looks at him, let alone fucks him... | NSFW. oral (f. rec). slight degredation. manhandling. a steamy onsen. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა (3.6k)

Life had been a series of decisions made by everyone but you.

Being raised under strict rule and watchful eye just to be sold off to the wealthiest, most respected man in the country wasn't something you fought exactly, you knew it was a battle you wouldn't win.

They could treat you like a prize sow, but that didn't mean you'd sit there getting fat and happy and filled with babies like one.

Especially not when you were being unloaded onto a warlord.

Sorry, not a warlord, the warlord.

Unrivaled and undefeated, Sukuna Ryomen wore blood and ash to your first meeting as casually as he did his kimono.

Draped, loose, open in the front like he didn't care who gawked at his chiseled chest or the thick black ink that wrapped his body and disappeared into the robe.

You kept your head low but your eyes on the bored, tattooed face of the man who didn't even seem to be listening to the details of your ceremony taking place the following week.

Sukuna got one look at your expression, your posture, your dress, and was about to write you off as yet another mindless, well trained insect who got off on following orders. You certainly looked the part.

But as the meeting finished and you rose to your feet, lowering to a deep and respectful bow, you muttered something at him.

"I do hope you plan to bathe before the ceremony, I can smell you from here."

When you straightened, your face gave absolutely nothing away. But there was venom and fire slithering behind the courteous tone.

When you walked off to follow your mother and father, you did not look back.

But you... you insulted him. Told him he stunk right to his face and shattered the image he'd built in his head in the moments you knelt across from him.

Maybe you weren't the polite, sweet, mindless doll your parents raised you to be.

Well, at least you wouldn't be boring.

...

Oh, how he had come to regret those words.

Sukuna didn't think much about how his life would change once he was married. He'd be expected to make an heir, but it wasn't like that would affect his life.

Ha.

Hard to make an heir when his wife refused to acknowledge his existence, god forbid sleep in the same bed.

Hard to make an heir when his balls were full and the only seed he spent was on pretty, fluff-for-brains concubines, or eventually, when he could hardly stand to even look at them, his own god damned hand.

Being married to you wasn't only not boring, it was hell.

He had to wonder which of the many heinous acts he'd committed thus far in his lifetime had landed him living punishment in the form of you.

Probably all of them.

But Sukuna wasn't only a sadist, but a masochist just the same.

Sure he glared and sneered and scoffed at your back as you walked out the moment he stepped in a room. Making a snide comment under your breath as you passed him just to set his teeth grinding away.

Sometimes he would bark a, "Know your place, woman." At your disappearing form, catching your shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Like you were fucking laughing.

It made his blood boil and hands itch to do something. To retaliate, to show you your place and put you in it.

You were supposed to be a wife. Subservient and devoted in every way to him and his wants, his needs.

That’s the thing, in every technical way, you were. You ran the household, ate meals with him when expected, attended ceremonies and political gatherings when it was called for. On the outside, you were absolutely perfect.

And in some backwards way, you really were perfect for him.

A match in fire and callousness, you didn't let it rage out of control like he could. You kept it in check and used your seething as an underhanded weapon.

One that really got you what you wanted, because now you had all the freedoms of a wealthy noblewoman, and you had Sukuna reluctantly wrapped around your pretty little finger.

You knew he was not the person to have worked up and left on the edge, but it’s not like you particularly gave a shit. It was amusing to see how his crimson eyes lingered as you passed in the hall, some staff member in tow as you listed off your preferences and plans for a gathering. The way his nostrils flared as he caught your scent. 

No, it slapped him across the face. Invaded his senses and had all four of his fists clenched.

He told himself you were just another woman. His wife, sure, but no different than any other concubine. But the way his hands itched to reach and grab you at the waist, rip your obi off and squeeze the soft curve instead, to pull you in and bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe so deep he’d never get your scent out of his sinuses.

The way he ached to have you sat on his lap taking every inch of him, to fill you until your belly swelled with his babies. Fucked his heir into you.

He’d never had the urge to breed before, and it was really fucking annoying. It made him feel like a fucking animal, and he hated it. 

Sure he sated animalistic needs, eating, fucking, killing. But they didn’t control him. 

Sukuna could level civilizations singlehandedly, raze villages to the ground and upheave the world just to toss it on its head. He was a warlord—no, the fucking warlord, and his pretty little wife had him tearing his own hair out. 

God, he needed to relax. This wasn’t him. He didn’t let emotions run his life, and he certainly didn't let people run his life.

Meanwhile you and your life carried on just the same. Ate dinner and sipped fine tea imported from the mountainous regions to the east, strolled the gardens full of fresh blooms and the low buzzing hum of cicadas, stripped free of your yukata with the help of your attendants and left to soak in the hot spring watching the sun set on the land. 

On your land. 

You supposed being married to the brute wasn't so bad after all. 

Steam rolled off the water, lifted by the light breeze that rustled leaves and set chimes twinkling. 

It was peace. You were exactly where you wanted to be, and certainly enjoyed it, but you couldn't deny you craved something just a little more. Something exciting. 

“B-but sir! Please, wait!” The shrill, panicked voice of an attendant rang out just outside the door into the onsen and you whipped your head around just in time to see it slide open with a bang!

And behold, your husband. 

Taking up nearly the entire doorway with nothing but a towel barely hanging on around his hips. So short the black rings inked on each thigh were visible.

It left you speechless, to see so much of him so bare. That he’d be brazen enough to walk right in on you so indecent. But you dipped quickly, putting your body underwater up to your neck and covering your breasts. 

“What do you think you're doing in here?” You lifted your chin, dignity intact even as you hunched to maintain a shred of modesty.

Sukuna froze in the entrance, ruby eyes wide and stuck on you for a long moment until he finally broke and stepped into the room.

“Bathing. I believe it was you that requested me to, no?” He quirked a brow, bare feet slapping the stone as he walked toward the steps into the water. 

The same attendant hurried in behind him, coming to crouch next to you. “Ma'am, your towel? Would you like to—” 

“Leave us,” Sukuna dismissed her without a look, halted and about to get in. 

You took the towel and muttered that you were fine, that she could go. She bowed low to you both and then that was it. You were alone. 

Well, alone with your husband. 

Who at least had the decency to go against tradition and leave the scrap of towel on and covering where thick black lines dipped low on his abdomen. 

You studied each other for a moment. Your hands cupping your breasts and his crossed over his chest and planted on his hips. 

You broke the stare first, turning to look out at the open scene and he started down the steps. He sank into the water and you watched from your periphery as he eased back, running a damp hand through his dusty pink mess of hair and rested two muscled arms on the stone ledge.

It was the first time you'd ever been alone with him, and you refused to look at him or speak first. 

“I despise how they hover.” Sukuna's gruff voice cut through the silence and you did not look at him as you retorted.

“That is their duty. An attendant would not be properly fulfilling their role if they were not present when needed.” 

Sukuna barked a laugh, “Well, you'd know all about that now, wouldn't you?” 

Your head snapped to the side and you looked him right in the eye with brows furrowed. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” 

“Don't act oblivious now.” He tch'd, casting his gaze out at the view instead of you. “Stupidity does not suit you.” 

You blinked. A few times. And despite the heat of the water, felt warmth race across your cheeks.

Was he really so callous?!

He caught your slight shock and smirked, “I assumed you'd be fleeing about now, is something the matter?” 

“I will not be bullied out of my evening soak.” You huffed.

“Bullied?” Sukuna scoffed, “You've had quite a soft upbringing if this constitutes bullying in your eyes.” He could see your face twist, fire flickering in your eyes as he prodded you and all he could think was finally. 

“You know nothing about me, so do not speak as if you do.” You almost sneered as you hissed it at him. Like he'd truly struck something.

And Sukuna was not one to back down when he struck a nerve.

“I know enough to know you're a sheltered, well mannered brat. If there is more than that, I have not seen it.” He said it like a challenge, like he was daring you to show him there was more.

He had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Sukuna was a brute, blood and dirt still under his dark fingernails from the havoc he likely wreaked just before coming to interrupt your evening.

So fast the water splashed the ledge, you snatched the towel and wrapped it around your body under the surface. It was flimsy and lewd, but better than your hands.

His eyes went wide, gripping the ledge as you rose to your feet. Waist deep in the water, the towel clung to your form and had him swallow visibly. 

“You seem to have certain expectations of me, does it upset you that I have not met them?” Your head cocked, taking a step forward.

Sukuna did not waver on the outside, simply sneered, “I am no stranger to disappointment.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare that threw daggers at him and god, he felt his heart skip a beat as you cut right back with, “Well, neither am I.”

The water rippled around you as you took step after step closer to him. “I never asked to be married off to the likes of you.” 

“That makes two of us.” He shot right back, rising to his feet as you drew close enough to look down at him, making you tilt your head back a bit to keep your eyes on his.

They betrayed you though and flickered to his chest, following the black lines that cut down his abdomen. Water dripping from his bare body, the tiny scrap of a towel heavy on his hips, soaked and clinging to his muscled thighs.

God, why did he have to look like that?

“Brute.”

Surely you'd be the death of him.

“Prude.” His brow lifted like a dare and you stepped right up to the challenge.

“Whore.” 

It surprised even you and as it left your lips you saw the shock hit Sukuna like a slap to the face. 

Too far?

“Why you little—” He snarled, grabbing you at the waist with one hand, nails pressing in enough to make you gasp as he brought his face close and held you in place. “You dare to speak to me like that?” 

“So all those women, you mean to tell me you keep them around for idle chatter? Please.” You scoffed and Sukuna lifted a brow, lips pulling into a slow smirk. 

“What’s this? Is the brat jealous?” 

You? Jealous? Pfft, ridiculous.

He wasn’t about to tell you that it had been weeks since he’d last even tried to be with another woman. That it disgusted him to even think of. That he couldn’t. 

But here you were, right here in his grasp, trembling a little but not pulling away. A crinkle to your nose like he just caught you red handed. And that certainly stirred something in him.

“You… your—” You stammered a little and his smirk split into a grin. Sharp and gleaming. He could feel your heart racing away under his grip. A clear of your throat and you refitted the blades in your gaze. “Clearly, your delusion knows no bounds.”

“You’d think it delusion that a woman would be jealous of another bringing pleasure to her man?” He hummed, grip softening on your waist slightly just to slide down to your hip. Your lips parted and he could see your thighs squeeze under the surface as he stepped closer. 

“Or maybe you like the thought.” He mused, so close you could feel the heat of his body and his breath on your skin as he laughed once, low and gruff. “Maybe you touch yourself at the thought of another woman bouncing on my cocks, screaming my name in ecstasy."

Wait… what?!

You had to have heard that wrong. Sure the brute had four arms but that would just be…

It took a moment to gather your thoughts and hiss a meek little, “Never.”

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He hummed again, dipping underwater to trace the edge of your towel, grazing bare skin and making you swallow. “Or are you too prudish for even that?” 

You could just shove him away and storm off. In fact, why weren’t you doing exactly that?

Heart racing, you could feel your pulse between your legs, squeezed together as your belly tightened. His eyes bored into you like he knew exactly what was happening. How traitorous your body had become. 

Lips parted and wavering, you hesitated to answer.

Sukuna Ryomen could always sense blood in the water, and he knew it was time to strike. 

He moved, his face coming down so close to yours, but still out of reach. Thick fingers dragging over the bare skin of your thigh, he pressed up between your legs and sent a jolt of lightning ripping up your spine. You yelped and gripped his arm with both hands, but he didn't move. Just held pressure and studied how your face twisted and flushed.

“Tell me to stop,” He said, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“S-s—ah! S… S-kuna,” You whimpered his name, clinging to his tattooed forearm. God he could feel you throbbing against his fingers and his cocks—already stiff, twitched. Ready to spear you on both and fill you with him until you sobbed. 

“Yes, brat?” 

You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut. What the hell was happening to you? “I… I can’t—”

“Look at the prude, coming undone and I haven't even done anything. Do you want more?” He rubbed a slow, tiny circle on your clit and your cunt clenched around nothing.

“Mmph—god,” You gasped, using his arm to support yourself. 

“Use your words, brat. Ask me nicely, and I’ll make you see stars.”

The way he spoke to you, shit… you must have been out of your fucking mind. Or so horny you could barely stand. Either way, you pried your eyes open and met his. 

“Please,” You whined, so filled with pressure you could hardly stand it and the word almost had him on his knees. 

“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers at him, that fire burning behind your pretty, glazed eyes. 

“Please,” You couldn’t believe the position you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t believe just how good it felt… “Make me see stars.”

Restraint snapped with a low groan and his hands were on you. It was a blur and you could hardly keep track of how surrounded you felt. One slipping up into your hair, two squeezing down your sides and pulling at the towel—barely hanging on and about to give—

Ah, yep, there it goes. 

Hit the water with a wet plap and you were left fully exposed. 

His finger found your slick entrance and he pushed inside. Barely even half of it but your eyes went wide with how thick it was and you squeaked nonetheless, starting to protest but Sukuna shut you up.

He hefted you up like you were nothing, slotting your thighs around his hips and his own covering let go just the same as yours. 

God how he was dying to use you, feel you squeeze around him like you did his finger. But you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

So he pulled your hair, tilting your head back as he brought his mouth down on yours, lips pressing yours open and delving in with his tongue.

The sound you made into his mouth, tongue tangled with his as you gave in and let your hand thread up into his hair, nails dug into his bicep, it was lewd and perfect and exactly what he craved. 

“You're still a—ah—brute,” You panted between kisses, gasping as he squeezed your ass and spread your cheeks, grinding your bare pussy on his abdomen.

“You're leaking on me,” Sukuna growled, tugging harder at your hair. “Maybe you like that fact.” 

Before you could protest, something wet squished against your pussy. You jerked with a gasp and started to squirm, but Sukuna had you trapped in his grasp and wasn't exactly keen on letting you go. 

“Ah, you asked for this. Stars, remember?” 

“Wha-what is that?” Your voice pitched as he held you against the thing flicking up on your twitching clit.

It felt amazing, electricity shooting through your limbs with every movement, but it was foreign. Big but softer, unlike how his hand had been.

“You like it, don’t you? Like riding on my tongue?” He nipped at your lip like it was obvious. 

His tongue?

Your nose crinkled, “What are you—oh my—mmph!” His tongue thrust into your mouth again as his… uh… other tongue prodded at your hole. 

Sukuna groaned into your mouth, tasting you—all of you. Legs pinned wide open for the wet muscle to work its way inside. Slick hitting the tastebuds making his eyes roll.

God you tasted fucking good. One taste and he was surely addicted, just like he was to your scent.

The feeling of it squirming and exploring deeper, licking up into your gummy walls as sharp teeth grazed your clit, it had you keening and bucking in his arms. The stretch was unreal, and had you struggling to breathe.

“Fuck…” He rasped, pulling back to watch as you writhed, brows knit and bitten lips pushed out in a sweet little pout. You looked perfect, you felt perfect, walls pulsing around the length squelching in and out. 

He was fucking you with it, and you were on the verge, ready to explode from a white hot pressure filling your belly. Shit… this had to be a sin of some kind.

Sukuna tugged your hair, leaning you back and supporting your weight to give you both a full view of how he stretched you out. “Look at that. Poor little pussy can barely handle the whole thing.” He thrust that tongue in deep and curled and you cried out. 

“Oh god! I-I can't—” 

“Do it,” He commanded and whatever was holding the dam back, broke. Head thrown back, your chest heaved with a strangled noise erupting as you spasmed, nails raking down his arms. 

As slick leaked into his maw, trembling in Sukuna’s grip as he groaned with the feeling, the taste of you coming undone, your fuzzy mind went…

Stars… 

As you rode the last waves, he pulled out of your twitching pussy, giving your clit a flick and humming a laugh when you jolted. 

“Well, where did all that attitude go? Speechless already, brat?” He mocked, watching your lashes flutter and eyes struggle to focus into a glare. On fire with a flush that raced across your cheeks and chest. 

“Pu-put me down you fiend.” You huffed and pushed weakly at his chest and Sukuna barked a laugh. Grinning wicked and feral with gleaming canines and your tummy clenched all over again.

“No-no, I’m not done with you.” Your knees hit the hard stone as Sukuna sat back on the ledge, thighs spread over his, letting your weight drop into his lap and right onto his cocks, pushing your hips back to grind you against the thick lengths. The feeling had you choke on air and despite thinking he would destroy you if he stuck one in, god forbid both, your cunt throbbed and you were painfully aware of how empty you felt. 

“Not even close, wife.”

this is for u @interlude-enternude <3 it was supposed to just be a drabble but i love us torturing suki too much :3 m. list | divider by @/kthice <3

[ttakdoll]

꩜ – SATORU GOJO really likes the way reader says his name .ᐟ

(18+) :: content – gojo x fem!reader, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, voice kink

satoru really likes the way you say his name.

other people never get it right, in his opinion. there’s always a vowel that’s too drawn out, or a consonant that’s pronounced too sharply. he only ever smiles and nods when people say his name like that — it’s fine, sure. but it’s not right.

it’s become something very particular for him.

it’s not sah-toe-roo.

he’s also heard sahh-to-roo.

and some people will extend those vowels past their welcome.

but you? it glides off your tongue like honey.

sa-to-ru.

he likes the way it gets all sharp on your lips when you’re mad at him. satoru would never admit it to you, but sometimes he’ll piss you off on purpose whenever he’s in the mood to hear how you sharpen the consonants like knives when you're telling him off.

“what?” the sorcerer sits back in your office chair, the faintest traces of a completely intentional grin on his face.

he’d come in early for once in his life for this exact purpose; satoru knew you always came in devastatingly punctual, so he’d make sure to greet you the best way he knew how to make your morning: by sitting in your office and kicking his feet up on your paperwork.

you loved things clean. it’s cute. he wants you fucking messy, though!

and you’re seething so adorably, with your face all scrunched up and your shiny eyes narrowed. “does this look like your office, gojo?”

nope. not what he wants to hear.

satoru sits up abruptly, making a show out of glancing around the room, before letting out an exhale of a laugh. “you know, all the offices look suspiciously similar. might wanna bring it up with the higher-ups.”

“get out.”

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he tilts his head, feigning concern. “you’re being awfully rude about this.”

the way you narrow your eyes makes satoru wish he could see them glitter with crystallized tears, with his weight on top of you as he slides his tongue between your thighs—

you suck in a breath past pretty lips. “i’m not in the mood. yaga has me on the clock. please just give me this, gojo.”

please, you say, and it makes him smile smugly. satoru loves hearing it (although he’d love hearing it beneath the dark of a particularly low-lit bedroom), but he needs more. needs your voice to wrap around his name like you own it.

“plead nicer. unfortunately for you, i’m in the mood.”

“fuck, no.”

he leans further back into your chair. “didn’t hear you. sorry?”

“satoru.”

there it is. sa-to-ru; just the way he likes.

on other days, even when you’re rendered all sheepish and embarrassed at one of his jokes, satoru just can’t get enough of the way you say his name.

this time, your tone dulls around the edges, always muttered under your breath in front of important people when he’s threatened to embarrass you with something he’s said — it’s soft and small and stern all at the same time, dancing through the air like warm fucking breeze in the winter. he just wishes you wouldn’t be so quiet about it; if the sorcerer had a choice, he’d have your voice on repeat.

he already does, in a way.

it’s why satoru’s taken to teasing you specifically whenever you have faculty meetings in front of the higher-ups, or whenever you’re particularly engrossed in a lesson with your students, just to see you when you’re caught off your game and a tiny bit upset.

satoru loves you when you’re pouting, loves when your lips press flat into a thin line or when the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, like you’ve got a retort on the tip of your sweet tongue but won’t let it slip for your own sake. so fucking considerate all the time.

you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re so composed.

and you let that sweet little breath of his name slip from your mouth when he’d push you a little too far during your class with your first years on reverse cursed technique. your eyes fixate on the ground, lips downturned, as satoru’d just gotten all of your students to laugh at a little jab towards your explaining methods.

“satoru.” you chastised in a small mumble, “let’s talk after my class, please.”

sa-to-ru.

god, that little whisper will be in his dreams tonight.

he’ll hear it over and over again and wish you’d mumbled it right against his earlobe, because no one else ever deserved to hear your voice like that.

“that’s awfully secretive, sensei. what’s so important that our beloved students can’t listen in on it, hm?” he knows what you’re getting at, of course.

but truthfully, he just wants to see your face contort with that fiery little expression, the same one he wanted to mouth at every inch of until nothing was left but pure bliss.

and satoru’s not shy about the way his heartbeat picks up when you nudge yourself a tiny bit closer, just to make sure he’s the only one who can hear what you say next. just so that your voice is only for him.

as it fucking should be.

the sorcerer’s hand just about brushes your hip, and save him if it isn’t taking everything in him to make sure he doesn’t grab you and pull you into his side like he has the right to do so.

“i don’t want my beloved students to hear me threaten to kill their sensei right here,” oh. satoru’s mind goes deliciously numb.

he grins, the edge of his mouth upturning slowly. “i’d love to see you try.”

you frown a tiny bit more.

“what exactly do you get out of pissing me off all the time?”

well.

⭑.ᐟ

satoru knows well enough that he adores your voice when it’s wrapped around his name.

but he’s decided that he loves it best when it’s completely breaking, paired with the gorgeously suffocating feeling of the skin of your thighs pressed into his fingertips and wrapped around his lips.

he loves when his name is exhaled, high-pitched and whiny like sugar, while his tongue paints a stripe across the wetness coating your lips, swirling circles around your pretty clit.

maybe he liked it the most because it’s how he’s always wanted to hear you say his name — it’s just that you’d always been too fucking stubborn, so insistent on hating him that you’d never stop to think how good you’d taste coating his mouth with your slick.

“sa-ah-toru,” you keen as satoru’s tongue dips past the edge of your soaked hole, curling inwards deliciously, moving slow like he’s savoring every fucking drop.

god, he’s hungry — but he’ll die if he goes too quick and can’t taste you ever again.

and if he grips the back of your thighs just a little bit harder when you sing his name like that? he simply can’t help it. he waited too long for this.

sa-to-ru.

you taste just as sweet as you sound.

you’d burst into his office this morning, bemoaning the fact that satoru hadn’t showed up to the previous briefing with principal yaga, of which ended with yaga blaming it on you. you’re bursting with rage, all up in his face, and it’s all a blur from there until your panties are hooked over your ankle, he’s getting on his knees in front of your office chair, wrapping your thighs over his shoulders, and lapping at your pretty cunt.

he hasn't gasped for air; he’s been too enveloped in your scent to care about breathing. he’ll devour you until no one else can. until all that pretty voice of yours knows how to sound out is sa-to-ru.

satoru narrows his tongue, bullying the muscle deep and slow, down to where you couldn’t have thought possible to reach. his eyes are hazy, half-lidded as you tug at his winter locks, shoving him further into your weeping pussy.

“mmph— fuck,” you pant out, eyes screwed shut as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you at a torturous pace. “fuck— gojo, ‘re going too slow—”

“hmm?” he hums into your clit, sending shockwaves straight up from your core. the sorcerer’s gaze meets yours from under the glimpse of your tits beneath your unbuttoned polo.

he loves you composed, he really does — but you look perfect when you’re all messy, just for him.

his lips glisten with your wetness as he grins. “i'll go faster if you say my name properly, beautiful.”

“h—huh?” your words trail off into a candied whine as he pads his finger just against your entrance, smearing the wetness that covers your folds and popping it into his mouth.

you’re so sweet. fuck, why are you so sweet?

“say my name.” he repeats, his voice cheerful yet rough, the tiniest bit of grit around the edge. “remind me how much you love me, gorgeous.”

your eyes still manage to narrow, even as they glitter with needy frustration. “fuck you— mmh!”

satoru simply frowns against the inside of your thigh as he abruptly bullies the first inch of his finger past your entrance, hissing at how tightly your walls were clamping down on him. his mind goes blurry, swirling with thoughts of how delectable you’d look with your thighs around his hips, bullied open and clamping like a vice down on his cock—

he pulls his finger out with a shudder, cooing at the little pout that forms on your lips. “poor baby. if you can’t handle it, you know, we can stop here. if you want.”

“w— what?” you breathe out, eyes wide and glossy like the thought was insulting. “no, please — please, need you, satoru…”

sa-to-ru.

and you’ve drawn out that last syllable like you want him dead.

“again, sorry?”

“satoru!” you squeal impatiently, and he obliged, simply because he’d never say no to you when you sound like that.

the white-haired man groans, biting down on the inside of your thigh and relishing in the way it makes you whine, all high-pitched and finally sweet on him.

his fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out and moulding you to shape around his skin. you’re dripping down his palm, and satoru’s mesmerized by the sheen of slick that coats his hand as he pounds his fingers in and out of you steadily.

“shit— so pretty here for me, huh?” satoru whispers reverently, as if speaking directly to your pussy and not to you. “just as sweet as that mouth of yours. just as tight too.”

your hands are making a home for themselves in his hair, hips chasing his thick fingers, grinding yourself further into them like he wasn’t deep enough already. your perfect fucking voice isn’t helping the sorcerer’s case either — he swears he loses every semblance of control he has, bit by bit, at each breath of his name leaving your lips, garbled and slurred and destroyed.

“s’toru, satoru,” your mouth drops open, eyes screwing shut as he curls his fingers right into that spongy spot, office chair creaking as your body slumps back into it. “it’s so— fuck, ‘ts so—”

he laughs breathlessly. “yes, gorgeous?”

“it’s so— oh!”

satoru cherishes everything you have to say, he swears he does.

but he also cherishes the way your lips look, all glossed with drool pooling at the corners, when he leans forward and circles his tongue over your clit in mean little motions, lapping at the sensitive skin in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers. you’re a whining, squirming mess — struggling to stay upright, thoroughly desecrated on the office chair you’d chewed him out just weeks ago for stealing.

satoru hisses as your fingertips tug at his locks, so fucking drunk on the taste of your soaked cunt amidst the lewd sound of his fingers slapping against your sex.

“listen to that,” he rasps out, pausing to let the squelch of your pussy speak for itself before laughing dazedly against your clit. “she’s screaming my name too, isn’t she? so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”

your bleary gaze peeks down at him, eyes questioning amidst the pleasure. “s—satoru, you asshole, stop talking to my— mmh!”

before you can protest, his mouth is diving back in. soft lips latch around your clit, and satoru’s painfully hard at the sound of your voice cracking around the syllables of his name, your throat thick with pleasure at the overstimulation. he doesn’t let up; the white-haired man sucks harder at the sensitive bud, all while scissoring his fingers deep inside of you as if mapping you out.

for when his dick goes inside you, of course.

“it’s t—too much,” you complain in a mewl, eyes blurry with forming tears, “satoru, please, please, ‘m so—”

“fuck, take it, gorgeous,” satoru gasps out against your pussy, lips drenched in your taste. “keep talking to me — shit, you’re tight — let it all out for me, okay?”

satoru’s mind had blanked out a long time ago. between the way your lips form his name in one strung out moan, and the way you taste sweeter than any candy he could’ve ever asked for, he’s starting to wonder if he’d died and gone to heaven.

your voice tangles with the filthy squelches that resound through the cramped space of your office, and he swears nothing could ever be better than this.

except for the way you sound saying his name while you cum.

“i’m— i’m—” you gasp, and satoru takes that as a sign to clamp his lips around your clit and suck, curling his fingers up against your g-spot until — “satoru!”

he’s never heard anything so perfect before. his gaze flicks upwards as you orgasm, watching the way your face scrunches up as your cunt tightens unbearably around every inch of his fingers. satoru’s transfixed by your stupid voice, something out of a porno curated by an angel, and if he’s hoping he’s ruined you with his fingers alone, you’ve ruined him with just the sound of your voice breaking.

your breaths are heavy as you come down from the high; soft and warm, sound waves radiating off of you like sunlight. satoru presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, and you finally peer down at him.

“still mad at me?” the sorcerer grins.

your eyes narrow as soon as you’re back to life. “yes. yaga chewed me out for something that wasn’t even my fault, satoru.”

sa-to-ru. the white-haired man pauses against your inner thigh, raising an eyebrow up at you with something hungry in his eyes. because as soon as you say his name, he decides he’s not fucking done with you yet.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous,” satoru mumbles, giving you a faux-apologetic glance before mischievously pressing a kiss to your clit, watching how your eyes widen. “i guess I’ll just keep going until you forgive me.”

“w—wait!”

satoru gojo really likes the way you say his name.

and he’ll keep making you say it until you know it too.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

first time finishing smut pls be kind to me :(

[hunnismokah]

nanami likes this polaroid of u

[kissesnanami]

(ʚᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈).ೃ࿔* ┊thinking about nanami's hands..

your husband had many things about him that you found incredibly attractive. no matter how long you two have been together, you can never seem to get used to it. it's the way his shoulders stretched, broad and firm. it's the way his body always looks as if it's trying to break free from his clothes, no matter what he wears. it's the warm baritone way his voice comes out when he speaks, and how it slightly softens when he speaks to you.

you don't think you could list everything you find attractive about your husband, even if you had all the time in the world. but one thing always stuck out to you in particular.

his hands.

big and calloused and so, so sexy. you could stare at them for hours, and you have.

you came home later than usual. by this time you're normally there waiting to greet nanami when he returns from work, but today you got a little too sidetracked shopping with your friends and you came home to see him already sat on the couch.

legs spread, tie loosened, head thrown back, exhausted, sexy. just from looking at him you could tell he had a hard day. he doesn't notice you at first. you quietly put your things down near the door and walk over to him. you were so excited to show him all the new things you bought, but you had forgotten all about that once you saw him.

"...ken?" you broke through the silence, making yourself known. he sluggishly lifts his head to see you and his worn, irritated expression instantly softens. "my beautiful girl." his voice is low and he shifts in a way you know means he's telling you to come closer. you sit in his lap and for the first time that day, his body relaxes.

you stroke his hand sympathetically. your heart always tightens a little when you see him like this. "are you okay?" you ask. he doesn't answer your question and instead begins to stroke the side of your face and tuck your hair behind your ear. "you're so pretty," he hums appreciatively. he looks at you intently through his heavy lidded eyes, studying the way your expressions shift.

your face grows warm against his palm and you avoid his gaze. he lets out a breath which was more like a slight chuckle. he loves you like this, bashful and sweet. he decides he wants to see more.

he brushes his thumb over your lower lip and you instinctively shift in his lap. bad idea. you immediately feel him stiffen underneath you as he lets out a slight groan and grips your hip tight with his free hand. "fuck baby, don't do that." at this point you're no longer thinking clearly, you're not even sure if you've had a clear thought since you came home. all you can think about is the very sexy man in front of you, and the very sexy hands he has on you, and you begin to lose any self control you've ever had.

you shift in his lap more, and you both find yourselves in a steady rhythm. you're already soaked and he's already fully hard underneath you. you both can't look away from each other, the sounds of both of your breathing fills the room, too focused on the moment and on each other to speak.

but the longer he has his hands on you, the more your head spins. they're intoxicating, he's intoxicating, and before you can really even think it through, you hold the hand on your face and slip his index and middle finger into your mouth with a look of complete and utter desperation in your eyes.

he groans again, but it was different this time. it wasn't louder, per se, it was truer, animalistic. "fuck, good girl, sweetheart." his eyes are glued to the way your plush lips struggle to wrap around his big fingers. he attempts to push them further into your mouth and you let out a small gag. "cute," he thinks.

"relax your throat, baby... little more.. goooodd girl.. fuck." he continues to mumble more nonsensical things of that nature in between grunts and groans until your eyes begin to water and you're drooling over his fingers and down your own chin.

you look up at him and and attempt to say "please," but with the fingers in your mouth and the desire taking over your brain it came out more like a weak whine than anything else.

a split second later you find yourself thrown over nanami's shoulder and carried into your shared bedroom because despite your very vague request, nanami knew exactly what you wanted.

and he was going to give it to you.

my first post and my first time writing anything like this.. please be nice and kind advice is appreciated ♪( ´▽｀)

kisses,

kat

[fwrails]

NO college is actually NOT fun because where’s nerd gojo and quarterback toji and plug choso and punk geto and frat sukuna and chair of dept. nanami and assistant prof. shiu & graduate prof. higuruma and—

[revolvingsaturn]

𝜗𝜚 wine and naked confessions with Shoko

a/n: happy pride to all my fellow sapphics (and everybody in-between <33)

more like this

Glass clinks against your nails as you absentmindedly wrap your hand around the stem of the bottle. Your apartment feels cosier like this, the world outside blocked out by your wine haze and the gauzy curtains, Shoko’s voice murmuring across to you as she happily sips her drink.

You sigh dreamily as the wine slips down your throat smoothly. “God, I’ve missed you, Sho.”

She laughs in response. “I missed you too, pretty. Blame Gojo for getting injured and making me stay late.” You roll your eyes theatrically, setting your glass down to softly trace the soft skin of her palm. “I still can’t believe you can just… do that with your hands. It’s amazing, Sho.”

She raises an eyebrow as her head tilts, shiny brown hair waterfalling over her shoulder, the skin exposed beyond her tank top. Her work clothes have long since been discarded into the wash, lab coat hung up inside the cupboard. “Oh? Tell me more.”

You know she’s only half serious, but the infliction in her tone makes you shiver. “Mmm…” your fingers keep tracing the lines on her hand. “And I love the way you don’t brag about it too much, either, you just do it. You’re so dedicated. And…”

Your reverence continues as your hands trail from her hands to her waist, Shoko’s glass of wine long forgotten beside yours as she lets the world go a little fuzzy around the edges. But not you, not as you crawl up on top of her and press your mouth to hers.

You’re loosely straddling her, thighs parted around her lap as gravity takes it’s course to allow you to slip your tongue into her mouth. She’s pleasantly surprised, and the moan she lets out is enough to tell you; soft puffs of breath get caught between thirsty nips of your teeth.

Shoko kisses back, lips plump and a little stained from the wine as she sits up and looks at you expectantly. You lie one last kiss to her beauty mark then adjust yourself how she wants- how you know she wants, after so many reruns of this same routine. And yet, you never get bored.

You couldn’t get bored- it’d be impossible, when she lifts up her thigh between your spreads legs and grabs your hips to drag you forwards. A gasp slips out instantly as your clit presses to her smooth skin beneath the loungewear she’s sporting, floaty shorts that are probably yours anyway.

“You can do it.” She murmurs against your earlobe, trailing her hand from your hip to pull your bottom lip down. You’re already dazed as she touches you, messily rocking your cunt back and forth.

“That’s…” you breathe, head tipping forwards into her neck, “that feels nice.”

She laughs and the breath ruffles your skin, goosebumps springing up. “Mmm, I can tell.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s referring to the damp spot on your panties, slick pooling frustratedly in the gusset as you fight for friction on her leg. It’s a good thing too, because you’re already dizzy from the wine and her touch isn’t helping.

Your girlfriend’s hands slide from your hips- they’re moving on their own now, bucking desperately- to pull your shirt away and toss it to the side. She grins, eyes heavy but no less reverent, as she lowers her mouth to kiss across the newly exposed flesh.

Your tits are spilling prettily from the bra cupping them, chest heaving as your hips stutter along her thigh. “Oh, fuck, Sho-“ you mewl, gripping her scalp when she wraps her lips around your nipple and tugs down the undergarment.

Maybe it’s her teeth on your skin or the way she lifts her thigh up to rub against your soaked skin. Maybe it’s the wine simmering in your bloodstream and the fuzziness of your eyesight. Maybe it’s the fact you’ve been worked up since she uncorked the bottle with dexterous fingers and your mind drifted to them inside you.

“Ohmygod-“

Whatever it is, it makes your back curl outwards and shove your tits closer into her chest as the seam of your underwear catches justttt right and you cum on her thigh, legs shaking and your cheeks brightened.

“There you go.” She says lowly, proudly, pressing a final kiss to your marked-up tits and collarbone before drawing back to gently thumb your face; the action draws you back into consciousness, control of your own body, and you lean forwards to connect your tongue with hers.

It’s messy, to say the least. You’re still shaky and uncoordinated from your orgasm, aftershocks buzzing through you when she pinches at your nipple briefly; your whole body shudders, but her mouth coaxes you back to reality as you pull apart for air and gaze at her.

She’s so pretty. Her lashes are dark around her honeyed eyes, dusted with desire and adoration as her hands hold you. Shoko’s hair is mussed from your fingers, soft brown tangling around your palms as you gently lift her shirt away, too.

You giggle against her mouth. “Lie back.”

Her lips curl against yours. “Why should I?” She’s joking- her elbows are already turning, lowering her back against the comfy couch cushions as your fingers twist into the waistband of her shorts and gently shimmy them down her slender legs.

A trail of kisses is planted along her skin first, adoration bottled up in every slide of your mouth against her; her calves, thighs, hips- nowhere is exempt, and you can tell it’s working her up by the way she sighs and tangles her fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease.” She mutters, although her voice is already strained. You smile, press one final kiss to her inner thigh, and clamp your mouth between her thighs. She moans breathily, and the sound makes you gasp into her in a cycle that only serves to make Shoko tremble above you.

Usually, she’s quiet anyway. But then it’s calculated silence, more like she’s deciding if the speech is worth her time or not- however, what you do to her is beyond the words she wouldn’t be able to choke out if she tried.

“Shit.” She breathes, rubbing soothing little circles on your scalp with her nails as you lick through the dampness flooding her skin. You’re enjoying this, having her collapse above you when your lips enclose around her clit and suck just a little on the right side of harsh.

“Sho…” you moan, pulling back enough to slide in two of your fingers, “you’re so pretty right now.”

Her hips buck upwards involuntarily, searching for the beautiful friction of your fingerpads against her insides; you twist and crook them in the way you know she likes, tongue carding across her clit, and the noise she makes is rewarding- to say the least.

It’s high and shattered, choked out between moans breathier than any others you’ve heard so far, mixed somehow with a little whisper of your name as you gaze up into her eyes.

You pull back, lips glossy with her until you swipe it away with your tongue. You’re as dazed as she is, body soft and naked above her as Shoko grips you up to rest on her skin. “Love you.” She murmurs quietly, legs tangling with yours on the couch as cushions fall ignored to the floor.

“Mm.” You agree lazily, kissing absentmindedly across her face. “Love you too, Sho. Have for a while.”

She laughs, tracing the curve of your back. “You didn’t finish your wine.”

You’re sitting back on your haunches to grab the bottle and refill your glass when you realise Shoko’s still staring at you. Her eyes are tracing the nakedness of your body, over the way your tits are marked up and your panties are nowhere to be seen- but she isn’t exactly doing it lustfully.

Of course, that makes up a little part of her obvious reverence- but it’s more the fact it’s you. That you’re both here like this, comfortable enough to fuck each other to orgasm and then go back to drinking wine, naked- like nothing happened.

She reaches for her glass and smiles around the rim.

ೃ࿔*:･

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