[sukunapie]

—༺♰༻—

❥ welcome page:

ྀི𝐫𝐞𝐯. 19. asian. she/they. 🦢

꒰ warning !! blog contains nsfw content.

➷ 01. masterlist ➷ 02. rules

➷ 03. author’s fave ➷ 04. fan fave

⌗ requests/ask box is currently open ᝰ !

© SUKUNAPIE all rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or repost my work on other social medias without my permission.

[toonies-trepidations]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

roommate! sukuna x reader

Sukuna drops onto the couch with a heavy thud, the cushions compressing beneath his weight. He reaches lazily for the TV remote on the coffee table when the front door swings wide open.

You stumble in, breathless, cheeks flushed, chest heaving like you'd run the last block. His eyes find your face immediately, and he recognizes that look — the one you save specifically for him. The same look you give him when he leaves the toilet seat up, or when the dishes pile in the sink for three days straight. That look. The one that means you're annoyed with him.

He sets the remote down and waits, smart enough to let you talk first.

"What's wrong with you?" you huff, making your way toward him and dropping onto the arm of the couch.

"Hm?" He tilts his head, confusion etched across his face.

"I called you like a million times. You didn't pick up."

"Phone died. Sorry."

"Asshat." You exhale through your nose. "I was calling because I needed your help. My mom called me today asking what time I'm coming over to do my aunt's makeup for her wedding tomorrow— "

"Don't really see where I come in."

You give him a blank stare. "Maybe if you let me finish my sentence, you would."

When he says nothing, you continue, "I completely forgot about it." You drag a hand through your hair. "I haven't practiced her look even once, and I cannot mess up her wedding makeup. I cannot. So..." You trail off, wincing slightly, like you already know how he is going to react. "I was going to ask if I could practice on you."

"No." He says immediately without even looking at you. "I ain't no chick. Ask one of your friends. Or just practice on yourself."

"It's not the same when I do it on myself. I need to work on someone else's face. And all my friends are busy." You shift closer, now sitting beside him and pressing your palms together. "Please, Kuna. I'm begging. I'll do your laundry for a whole month."

He stares at the blank TV screen. You watch the muscle in his jaw tick as he turns it over — the weight of a month's worth of laundry versus whatever dignity he thinks he'd be surrendering.

"Fine," he mutters finally. "Make it quick."

Your face breaks into a grin before he even finishes the sentence.

"Love you! Don't move, I'll grab my stuff!!"

You reappear in the doorway, arms overflowing with makeup bags and palettes stacked precariously on top of each other. Sukuna eyes the haul from the couch and says nothing, but lets out a quiet, internal sigh. He cannot believe he's letting you do this. The things he does for you, without even fully understanding why.

You set everything down on the center table and get to work, uncapping primers and tapping foundations against the back of your hand to check the shade. He stays still, surprisingly cooperative, though the slight tension in his jaw makes it obvious he's exercising considerable restraint.

You work for a few minutes standing in front of him, but the angle is terrible. He's seated and you're upright, and every time you lean in to blend something along his cheekbone your lower back pulls with the strain. You try to push through it. You last maybe another thirty seconds before you give up.

Without really thinking about it, without asking, you straighten up, place your legs on both sides of him, and settle yourself onto his lap.

His whole body goes rigid.

"What —" His voice catches. "What are you doing?"

"My back was hurting," you say simply, reaching for your blending brush again. "I couldn't stand like that the whole time."

Sukuna turns his face sharply to the side, jaw tight. "Freak," he mutters. But he doesn't move. Doesn't tell you to get off. And you're almost certain there's a flush creeping up the side of his neck, just barely visible beneath his collar.

You decide not to mention it and keep working.

After a moment he exhales through his nose and lets his eyes fall shut, easier probably than figuring out where to look when your face is this close to his.

And then, slowly, without quite meaning to, you stop working.

You're just looking at him.

Up close like this, with his eyes closed and his expression unguarded, he is almost unbearable to look at. His features are severe and achingly symmetrical. The tattoos tracing along his jaw and beneath his collar accentuate his natural beauty. You've seen attractive people before. This is different. He possesses the type of beauty that leaves you with an aching pain in your chest when you don't see it anymore.

Your gaze somehow ends up drifting to his lips and staying there. The brush is hovering somewhere near his forehead and you've completely forgotten about it.

Sukuna notices the stillness and opens his eyes only to find you staring directly at his mouth.

You blink and your eyes snap up to his. "You have nice lips," you say, because that is apparently what your brain decides to offer in your defense.

The corner of his mouth curves into that sinful grin of his. "Yeah?"

Heat floods up your neck embarrassingly fast. "Y-yeah," you manage, and immediately look back down at your palette like the concealer shade requires your complete and undivided attention.

He closes his eyes again and settles back into his still form, but the grin stays on his face longer than it needs to.

When you finish, you take a moment to admire your work. He looks stunning.

"You look so pretty, Kuna."

"Tch."

"Do you want to see?"

"No." He's already reaching towards the makeup wipes. "Get it off me."

"Okay, fine. Close your eyes for me."

He listens, and you grab your phone from beside you and open the camera to take a picture.

As soon as you press the button, the shutter sound goes off at full volume.

Fuck. Your ringer was on.

Sukuna's eyes snap open. "Delete that. Now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, already sliding off his lap.

He makes a grab for your phone and you twist away from him, laughing, holding it out of reach. He lunges for it again and you duck under his arm, scrambling to the other end of the couch with the phone pressed to your chest.

"Give it," he says flatly.

"Absolutely not."

He grabs your ankle and drags you back across the cushions. You shriek and kick your legs uselessly, trying to wriggle free while keeping the phone out of his reach, which is nearly impossible because his arms are annoyingly long. You end up half hanging off the edge of the couch, phone arm stretched toward the floor, other hand braced against his shoulder to keep him from getting any closer.

"Kuna—" you start, laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

"Stop squirming."

"Then stop trying to take it!"

He grabs your wrist, not hard, just firm enough that you can't move it, and starts prying your fingers back one by one with his free hand. You're both fully committed to this now, him stone-faced and determined, you a giggling mess trying to curl your fingers back around the phone every time he gets one loose.

"You're so dramatic," you manage between laughs.

"You took a picture of me in makeup."

"You look cute!"

That earns you a look so deeply unimpressed it almost makes you laugh harder. His grip tightens on your wrist and he makes one final grab for the phone and then it slips. Clean out of both of your hands and straight to the floor.

You both go still for a second.

"Shoot."

Sukuna looks down at you and it's only now that he actually registers it. How close your faces are. How your body is completely flush against his, your breasts rising and falling against him with every breath you take. His hand is still at your hip and he can feel the warmth of your skin through the fabric there.

He should get up. He knows he should. There's no reason to still be hovering over you like this, phone already forgotten on the floor. But he doesn't move. He stays exactly where he is and tries to find a good reason why and comes up empty.

You're looking up at him and for once you're not laughing. The playfulness from a moment ago has gone quiet somewhere, replaced by something neither of you has named yet. You're very aware of the weight of him, the warmth, the way his hand at your hip hasn't moved an inch.

"You gonna get off me?" you ask, but your voice comes out smaller than you meant it to.

He doesn't answer. His eyes move across your face, jaw tight, and you get the sense he's having some kind of internal argument with himself that you're not privy to.

"Sukuna."

"What."

"You're staring."

"I know."

He says it so plainly that it knocks the next thing you were going to say clean out of your head. Your heart is doing something embarrassing in your chest and you really hope he can't hear it.

His gaze drops to your lips. Stays there a moment too long to be accidental. When his eyes come back up to yours there's something in them that makes your stomach turn over, impatient and dark, like he's already made a decision and is just waiting for the last thread of his better judgment to give out.

Your tongue slides out to wet your lips without you even thinking about it.

That's it for him.

His head dips and his mouth meets yours, a little rougher than a first kiss probably should be, and the sound he makes against your lips is low and involuntary, almost primal. Your hands find the back of his neck and you pull him closer instead of pushing him away.

The kiss deepens and you feel his grip at your hip tighten, fingers pressing in like he needs something to hold onto. You make a small sound against his mouth and he swallows it, and for a moment the whole room narrows down to just this, just him, just the warmth of his mouth and the solid weight of him and the fact that you are so completely in over your head.

He pulls back first. You're both breathless, foreheads almost touching, and the space between you is non-existent.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with desire. "Don't stop."

Your fingers find their way into his hair and pull him back down. He grins against your mouth, just barely, and follows without a fight.

He wasn't planning on stopping anyway.

a/n: hi guys this is my first fic. im lowkey dookie balls at using tumblr but its ok, we will figure it out. im gonna make it so aesthetic and cutesie trusttttttt. anyways i hope you liked it :) omg also so random but my ex bf would never let me put makeup on him like what’s this guys problem smh

[4kisss-deactivated20260508]

situationship fratkuna tells his friends how you're always so needy for his attention. . . but you know better & now so does he ❤︎⁠

pleading, offering nights of hot sex, and grovelling at your feet is a new low. even for sukuna.

but you're reeeal petty.

"baby, y'know i wasn't— fuck, I wasn't bein' serious. . ."

sukuna groans, deep in chest, dragging his lips up to your shin then to your knee until he finally settles his cheek against the soft skin of your thigh. he nuzzles his nose into you, inhaling your scent like an addict.

if any of his frat brothers see where he is now, on his knees with his fingers wrapped loosely around your ankles to keep you from pushing him away, he'd never hear the end of it.

"you think i'm too clingy, kuna?"

the question sounds innocent enough, however, with the way you're peering down at him from the edge of your bed in nothing but a bra and some little lace panties is anything but innocent.

"nah, baby, course not." sukuna's palms glide down the backs of your calves, massaging the muscles coaxingly.

your foot nudges his chubbing thickness in his boxers and he pants hotly, sinking his blunt nails into the backs of your calves almost pathetically.

and he was the one calling you clingy?

sukuna swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he forces the words from his lips.

"please. . . let me make it up to you?"

[mochaization]

WE WERE SOMETHING, DON'T YOU THINK?

synopsis. your family said he'd ruin your future, that he was a bad influence, so they separated you from him 'for your own good.' years later, you see him again at college, and he's ... different in ways you don't know how to name.

pairing. r. sukuna x f!reader

content. light angst (i think), fluff, SOFT SUKUNA, sukuna's a bit mean at first tho, reader's family is shit, sukuna has a healthy family (wow), mutual pining, childhood best friends, college au, family pressure ( ´△｀), eventual romance. wc 2.7k (shorter than i thought)

♯ this is my first time writing a long oneshot pls dont jump me. i dont really like how i executed it but oohh welll it's already done ( ´∀`) enjoy!! art by 679sora!

The first time you meet Sukuna, he is sitting alone at the playground, knees pulled up to his chest as he plucks at the grass like he has nothing better to do.

You watch him from the swings, letting yourself drift back and forth. The chain creaks soflty in a slow rhythm.

Everything feels quieter today.

Sukuna is still plucking at the grass, piling them on top of his shoes. He doesn't look bored, if anything, he's deeply focused on what he's doing.

Curious, you hop off the swings and start walking toward him.

Up close, you spot bruises on his face and arms. He looks like he's been fighting a lot. He's actually bigger than he seemed from far away, shoulders tight like a coiled spring.

He notices your shadow before he even looks up.

His hands still mid-pluck. Slowly, his eyes lift to your face.

They're red and sharp. "What?" he asks flatly, voice rough for a kid.

You shift your weight, scuffing your shoe against the dirt. "Nothing."

He squints, unconvinced.

"Then why are you here?"

"You looked lonely," the words escape before you can even decide if they're a good idea.

He lifts one eyebrow. "I'm not," he mutters. "Mind your own business."

You snort. "You're sitting in the middle of the playground. That kind of makes it everyone's business."

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing. "Then go away."

"You go away."

"I was here first."

"So?"

"So it's my spot."

Instead of talking back, you plop down across him, close enough to mess up his gathered pile of grass.

"It's our spot now." you declare, satisfied with the incredulous look on Sukuna's face.

He just stares, considering getting up and leave. But then he sighs. "You're annoying," he says.

You grin. "Thanks, i get that a lot."

He frowns, that was not the reaction he expected. But he just shrugs and goes back to plucking at the grass.

"What's your name?" you ask suddenly.

He doesn't answer right away. You start to think he's going to ignore you completely because he hasn't answered for a whole minute.

"For what?" he looks at you skeptically.

You blink. "So i know what to call you, duh."

He snorts softly, like that's a stupid reason. But he tells you anyway. "Sukuna," he mutters.

"Sukuna," you repeat it under your breath, testing the sound of it. Then you tell him your name.

He nods, repeating your name quietly. "That's a good name," he says.

After that, neither of you speaks again.

He stops plucking at the grass and just stares at the small pile for a while. Then he lifts his head, staring at you, who are leaning back on your hands, eyes looking up the sky.

Finally, he speaks up. "You're here alone?"

You shake your head, still looking up the sky. "No, i'm with my mom."

"Cool."

"Not cool," you sigh. "She's always mad about something."

"Huh," he mutters. "Why?"

You just shrug, as if it's normal. "Dunno. It's fine though, i'm used to it."

He frowns, crossing his arms. "Used to it? No one should be used to that."

You can't help a small laugh. "You sound mad."

"'m not," he admits quietly. "Its just weird."

"Don't think much about it, 'kuna. you'll get gray hairs!"

He lifts an eyebrow at the nickname, but he doesn't say anything about it. Just as he opens his mouth, someone yells your name.

You turn your head abruptly, narrowing your eyes as you see your mom striding toward you. Her jaw set so tight you're afraid it might snap.

"There you are!" She shouts.

Your mom's hands clamped onto your shoulders like a vice. She looks at Sukuna with a judgemental squint.

"I told you not to wander off," she hisses, her fingers locking around your upper arm. "And not to play with someone who doesn't know basic manners—look at you, you got your clothes dirty!"

She doesn't wait for you to answer. She pulls you upward, forcing you to stand. You look back at Sukuna as your mom drags you away. He looks genuinely baffled, still crouching with his pile of grass on his shoes.

The distance grows quickly, your mom's shadow looming over you. You glance back one more time and yell out. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kuna!"

Sukuna blinks in surprise, staring at you for a moment. Then he nods slowly, like it's a promise.

You stumble forward, the force of your mom's grip makes you wince, but Sukuna's nod lingers in your mind. You're gonna make sure you'll see him tomorrow.

.☘︎ ݁˖

Sukuna's back at home, the memory of you still lingers in his head. He couldn't forget the way you talked, how curious you were about him, and the way your eyes were full of resentment when your mom came.

"Sukuna, are you okay?"

That question snaps him out of his trance. He looks up from his plate, meeting his dad's eyes.

"Uh, yeah," he mutters. "It's just that i met a girl i met at the playground today."

His mom jumps in, excitement in her voice. "Really? What is she like? Is she nice?"

Sukuna stays quiet for a beat, nodding slowly. "She's a curious one, but she's nice. Her mom, however.." He lets the sentence trail off.

He sighs before continuing. "I don't know, maybe she's in a bad mood. She was a bit harsh on her earlier."

His parents share a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. After a pause, his dad speaks softly. "You should be friends with her."

"Why should i?" He frowns slightly.

"She might need friends, 'kuna." his mom adds, gently brushing Sukuna's hair back.

The conversation goes on for a while before Sukuna eventually wanders off to his room. Sunglight pools across his floor as he drops onto his bed.

He tells himself that he doesn't care about you. But the interaction at the playground keeps replaying on his mind.

Meanwhile there's you, sitting on the edge of your bed, hands clenched on your lap.

Voices rise downstairs. Sharp, loud, and angry in a way that they've stopped trying to keep it quiet. Your name slips once, the sound tight and even more angry.

You stare at the floor, heart pounding. You promised yourself that you'd see Sukuna tomorrow. No matter what your parents say.

Downstairs, the argument keeps going.

.☘︎ ݁˖

You go back the next day.

He's already there, sitting in the same spot. Instead of tearing up grass, he brought snacks this time. He glances up when you approach, his guarded expression melting into something softer when he sees you.

After that day, it becomes a routine.

You go there almost every day without your parents knowing. Some days you talk, some days you don't, just enjoying each other's company. Sometimes you argue over nothing, share snacks, or trade small observations about anything around you.

When you ask about his bruises, he tells you they're from sparring at his martial arts class after school. Then he starts showing them off, insisting they're 'cool.'

It feels like your own small world.

Until it isn't.

Your parents finally catch you playing with Sukuna one afternoon, their footsteps cutting across the playground.

Your dad calls your name, sharp enough to make you flinch.

The happiness drains from your face the moment you see them.

Your body goes rigid, fingers tightening in the grass. Without warning, your dad grabs you roughly and pulls you back, making you grimace in pain.

Sukuna's on his feet instantly.

"Hey—" the word tears out of him. "Let go of her!"

Your mother shoots him a look so cold it could freeze the air.

"Stay away from her," she snaps. "She doesn't need a friend with no manners like you."

"Wha—"

"Don't act like you don't know," she scoffs. "She comes here without our permission, you probably encouraged it."

Sukuna blinks, stunned by the accusation. "I didn't make her do anything!" his hands shaking from how hard he's clenching it. "She wanted to come."

"Our daughter would never do that if there's no one encouraging her," your mom laughs condescendingly. "You're a bad influence."

The word lands like a slap on the face.

Sukuna just stands there. Not yelling, not fighting, just looking at you, hurt flickering in his eyes.

After a moment, your parents pull you away from him.

You twist in their grip, trying to look back at him. He's standing there with his fist clenching, looking at you like he doesn't understand why you're being taken away from him.

Your dad's hand tightens, forcing you forward.

And just like that, Sukuna sees you for the last time.

The next day, he comes to the playground, but you don't.

Seconds pass, then minutes, then hours. You still don't come. Sukuna doesn't move. The snack beside him sits unopened, already forgotten.

Footsteps crunch on the gravel. He looks up immediately, hoping it was you—but it's not. It was one of the adults in the neighborhood.

"Hey, kid," they say gently. "You shouldn't wait here."

"Why not?" He frowns.

The adult hesitates, then sigh. "Her parents.. they don't want her coming here anymore."

"They said she won't be playing with you again."

The words doesn't make sense.

"What do you mean?"

"They think you're a bad influence," They add quietly. "they said you're bad for her future, so they're keeping her away. For good."

Sukuna doesn't answer. He just stares at the ground, jaw tight. After a long moment, he grabs the snack beside him and shove it into his bag, movements angry.

"Thanks," he says to the adult quietly.

Then he turns and walks away without looking back.

He doesn't come back the next day, or the day after that. The playground remains the same, the swings creak softy, the grass still flattened where you used to sit together, as if nothing important just ended.

.☘︎ ݁˖

Years slip by, old memories softening into something easier to ignore.

You're in college now, living alone, finally far away from your parents.

The days blur into lectures, assignments, projects, and part-time work. It's not really exciting but at least it's peaceful.

Your last class just finished, and students scramble out of the room. Laughter echoes down the hallway, conversation overlap, you move with the crowd, already thinking going back to your apartment.

But you see a familiar silhouette leaning against a pillar, talking to someone. Tall, broad shoulders, and what's that—tattoos?

Your steps falter, breath catching in your throat. He turns slightly to your direction, as if sensing weight of your gaze.

For a moment, you only see his profile. Sharper, older, unfamiliar in any ways.

Then he turns fully.

He squints, then his eyes widen just a fraction, your name almost forming on his lips.

He stops before it comes out. He just stares at you, his expression guarded, as if he's putting up a wall.

But then he strides toward you, each steps confident and unmistakeable.

Panic flares in your chest. You look around for some sort of escape, but there's nowhere to go. When you look forward again, he's already in front of you.

"You," he says flatly. "what are you doing here." It doesn't even sound like a question.

"H-huh?" you stutter. "Oh, uh.. i study here."

His eyes narrow, sharp and unblinking, studying you. "Do you even remember me?"

"...Sukuna, right?"

"Right," he snorts. "how long has it been? Ten years?"

You nod, shame flooding your chest. It's been ten whole years you last saw him, and you can't even bring yourself to look at his face after that one day.

"...Let's go somewhere quieter." He takes your hand gently, a stark contrast to everything you've felt these past years.

He leads you to the quiet park behind the campus. The chirping birds and the rustle of leaves do little to soothe the tight knot in your chest.

He let go of your hand and turns around. The air between you is heavy, thick with words that neither of you know how to start with.

"How's your life? Did it get any better without me in it?" he asks bitterly, the question coming out harsher than he intended.

You gulp and let out a shaky exhale. "No—"

"Do you still let your mom control everything in your life? Or do they still think i'm a bad influence for you, that i'll ruin your future?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the train of question, chest tight, every unsaid word for the past ten years pressing down on you. With a trembling breath, you finally look up at him.

"N-no.. not anymore," you say, voice shaky. "I left home last year, and i don't... i don't know what they think about you now. They probably don't remember you.."

Sukuna's eyes soften slightly, the usual sharpness fading into something almost fragile. He leans back slightly, letting out a almost inaudible sigh.

"I still think about you, y'know. All these ten years, i still hoped you'd come back to me."

His admission makes your eyes widen in surprise. You swallow hard, your chest tightening at his words.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," he cuts you off. "don't apologize for something that's not your fault."

You blink, caught off guard by the his firmness in his tone.

"I feel like i should've apol—"

"It's not your fault," he repeats, looking away in frustration. "you were just following what your parents said, you had no choice."

At that moment, you notice something different about him. He's softer now. He's still a bit harsh like when he was kid, yes, but he's more gentler around the edges.

"I wanted to reach out to you," you say suddenly, making his head snap back at you. "saw my friend's instagram photo, and there you were. I clicked on the tagged account, i even had the courage to message you, but i was... a coward."

Sukuna looks at you, and without thinking, he brushes a strand of your hair back. You can feel heat creeping up your cheek at the contact.

"Coward?"

"Mhm, because of that day," you explain, voice barely a whisper. "i saw the hurt in your eyes when my mom talked badly about you.. and i thought you hated me."

He exhales slowly, a small, almost sad smile tugging on his lips.

"I missed you," he says. "i still buy your favorite snacks, still going to the playground when i have free time, though you won't be there."

"So how could i ever hate you?"

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest. The tension of the past ten years still lingers, but seeing his soft eyes, it feels... warm.

"I missed you too," you finally admit, voice quiet. "we were something, don't you think?"

"Something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Y'know... we were best friends. But they had to ruin it all."

Sukuna laughs, low and soft, the sound carrying a mixture of relief and fondness. "You're implying we're not best friends anymore?"

"What?! No! i mean.. are we?" You stammer, cheeks heating.

Sukuna tilts his head, a teasing glint in his softened eyes. "Of course we are," he says quietly. "Unless.. you want us to be more than best friends?"

"Huh?!" Your voice suddenly squeaks. "Oh, sorry— i mean, huh? but we're best friends—"

Sukuna smirks, a teasing glint in his eyes. He loves how flustered you are over his words.

"Best friends, yes," he says slowly. "But doesn't mean we can try for more, if you want."

You bite your lip, trying to calm your pounding heart. "I never thought about it," you admit. "I don't know if i'm ready.."

Sukuna leans in a little closer, hands brushing yours before holding it. "Hey," he murmurs. "We can take it slowly, no rush at all."

"We just met after ten years," he smirks faintly. "We'll have to get used to each other again, won't we?"

"Yeah.. i guess we do," you say, glancing at him and meeting his gaze steadily. "It'll take a little time, but i'm glad i get to see you again."

He notices your steady voice, and a satisfied smile spreads on his face

"Good," he chuckles softly. "Just know that we'll get through everything, yeah? No running away again from me."

"I won't," you reply, chuckling despite yourself. "Promise, 'kuna."

The nickname makes him smile even wider. His hand lifts, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, and you can't help but lean in to his touch.

"You know," he starts. "I still care for you, and i will.. forever."

© mochaization 2026. DO NOT copy, reconstruct, reupload on any other platform, or feed my works to AI.

[reignpage]

Sleeping Beauty

Synopsis: in which your roommate can only be woken up with your tongue inside her

Warning: cnc, somnophilia, consensual deal, perv!reader?, fem!reader, lesbianssss, cunnilingus, reference to thigh grinding, non curse au, college au, breast play, belly press technique, Shoko art by @_3aem on X, not proofread Word Count: 2.7k

Roommate!Shoko who is a deep sleeper and has been known to miss classes because she just won’t get the fuck up. Her body does as it pleases; she wakes up on her own time, usually hours later, scratching her head and yawning. 

“Morning, sexy.” She plops her entire body weight upon your back, then nuzzles the crook of your neck, and mumbles, “I missed my brunch plans with Dumb and Dumber again. They’re gonna be so mad. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“Why can’t you just wake up?” you ask in concern, pretending you can’t feel her tits on your back.

“Because you’re not in my arms,” she replies. 

“Ha. Ha.”

Roommate!Shoko pats your ass before she goes over to the counter to make coffee. “I’ve always been like this, but I used to have my parents physically dragging me out of bed. Guess I need a special touch.”

It’s gotten so bad that her friend, Gojo, has offered you a lot of money to get her out of the apartment on time. 

And you’re not one to turn down money.

So you devised a plan to capitalise on this. You tried banging pots and pans, leaving ten alarms so that they blare all at once, shaking her, yelling right in her ear — nothing. She will not budge. She will not flinch. 

She will not wake the hell up.

So it’s clear that by ‘special’ she doesn’t mean violence, because you’ve rained attacks on her with her pillow many times and it never did anything but tire you out.

Until, one day, you discovered, by complete accident, that there’s a foolproof way to get her up and alert: orgasms. 

It really was an accident. 

You were trying to wrangle her out of bed, and changed so that when she did wake up, she could rush out of the apartment instead of wasting time trying to pick an outfit. It was thoughtful. Smart. Genius! 

But she never makes anything easy for you. 

Her body fought against your attempts, wanting to cling to the comfortable mattress and stay in the warm comforts of her blanket. In all the wriggling and fighting, your thigh ended up between hers, lodged firmly to the apex. 

You realised too late what was happening; you still fought and fought, and was accidentally grinding your thigh to her pussy. It only became apparent to you what a horrible mistake you had made and what an unfortunate position you were in when her arms locked around your torso to keep you in place as she subconsciously humped your leg. 

Then her body was spasming. She was moaning in your ear, leaving a warm wetness on your skin. 

Within seconds, she was awake and confused as to what you were doing above her, all flustered and aghast. 

You didn’t want to tell her what happened, out of embarrassment. In fact, you vowed to take it to your grave. But the money dropped in your account, with a note that said, thx for working miracles, from The Strongest. And for the first time in months, maybe even years, you were able to splurge. 

So, guilt-ridden and fully prepared to go to jail, you explained. 

Roommate!Shoko hummed, arms and legs crossed. She eyed you through her long lashes before a devious smile pulled at her lips. “So, you molested me in my sleep and woke me up.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” you argued, cringing. “But, yeah, I guess. I promise it was an accident though!”

She cradled your cheek and tenderly pressed a kiss to the other. “It’s alright. I’m actually quite grateful we found a solution to my sleeping problem.”

A beat of silence passed.

“What?”

Casually, she strutted off and jumped on the sofa. She patted the seat next to her as she said, “You want money, I want to wake up on time. Sounds pretty simple to me. Do what you gotta do, and we don’t have to talk about it after. It’ll be our little secret.”

Things spiralled soon after. 

A routine formed. 

Every morning, varying the time based on what she had going on that day, you would sneak into her room, checking she’s asleep. 

Today is no different.

The door opens to your touch. You step in.

Roommate!Shoko lies over her covers, on her stomach, dressed in only her panties and a big T-shirt that belongs to Geto. You sigh. There’s 20 minutes before she has to get to her feet and wash up if she wants to make it on time for a lecture. A med student really cannot afford to be missing any classes and lectures, so you never understood why she doesn’t take care of herself better.

Being the one to make sure she can make good on her promises and graduate with a degree has become your responsibility. The burden is heavy. It’s not like you have nothing going on in your life. 

At this point, however, when you’ve earned thousands and are swimming in money because she’s friends with a rich kid, you can’t complain. 

With a little groan, you flip her on her back. 

Still nothing.

“Jeez, Sho,” you mutter, “I could throw you down a flight of stairs and you’d still be snoring.”

You trail your fingers over her bare thigh, until they skim the hem of her grey Calvin Klein panties. It’s one of your favourites. Maybe she knows that, maybe she doesn’t. Who’s to say if she gets herself into positions that pushes her gorgeous ass out on purpose, if she wears clothes she knows you can’t get enough of?

Parting her legs for her, you hum as you press an indent on her clothed slit. It surprises you every time how squishy her pussy lips are. Her hips jolt. You easily find her clit, rubbing in gentle circles, just the way she likes at first. 

Roommate!Shoko stirs. 

You lie on your stomach on the bed, keeping her legs spread. The mattress drips. The bed frame creaks. Does she wake up? 

Of course not.

Her thighs are smooth and soft; they’re nice to lay on when you’re watching movies together. They’re even nicer to rest your cheek on when you’re up close and personal with her panties. Your nose nudges the cute little bump where her clit is, inhaling her sweet scent.

A wet spot has formed at the gusset — grey panties show it so easily. Giggling a little, you press a kiss to the darker spot. You lick the faint taste of her off your lips. Not even a second later, you’re suckling on the fabric. “Mm, Sho. I can already taste you,” you tell her, even though she can’t hear.

Roommate!Shoko releases a low moan. When you peek up, she’s still asleep. Her lips are parted, her breathing’s steady, eyes closed. Although, you do spot a light dusting of pink on her cheeks and the way her two middle fingers, which rests upon her pillow, twitches.

All good signs.

With 15 minutes left to go, you decide to up the ante; pulling her panties to the side, you’re met with her puffy lips, which have grown shiny with her juices. The heat radiating has you growing dizzy. 

It’s silly really, how you’re more affected than her.

There’s always a mix of feelings inside you every time you do this: guilt because she has no idea exactly what you do to her, excitement because she has no idea that you take the initiative to suck on her clit, and disappointment because she has no idea and cannot return the favour. 

After each time, you send her off or you leave first, you’re always left with an itch you have to scratch, on your own. You’ve wondered many times how nice it would be to have her between your legs, to feel her slender fingers in you and sinful mouth on you. 

Of course, you know this is wrong, that this arrangement isn’t healthy or ethical, but it’s for her own good. It’s simply a bonus that this isn’t much of a sacrifice to make because you’ve always had a fat crush on your smart, witty, sexy as sin roommate, with her slender legs, wide hips, slutty waist, and huge tits. 

Speaking of…

A hand creeps up. You grope one of her breasts over her shirt. Fat pudge between your fingers. Her nipple is hard, poking your palm. You run a blunt nail down the little bud. Her back arches. Like clockwork. 

Roommate!Shoko loves to have her tits played, especially over the top, where the friction and the texture of her shirt adds a special kind of thrill. 

Right on cue, a fresh wave of pussy juices oozes out of her, dripping down the plumpness of her ass. You collect it on the tip of your tongue, then bury it back inside her. Warm, gummy walls clench around the wet appendage. Above you, another moan resounds. It shoots straight through your body. Your own pussy reacts.

Even in her sleep she’s so hot. 

“Don’t worry, Sho,” you chirp. “I’ll have you awake soon.”

You lick a fat stripe up her slit.

Her juices are sweet and tangy, with a distinct taste of her. It’s intoxicating. Her internal heat and your breath creates a humid mix that has your and her clit throbbing seemingly in tandem. You greedily lick as much of her as you can, making sure to flick her cute button on your way up. 

“Mmm.” 

Roommate!Shoko’s shuffling now, writhing slowly. Her breathing’s grown irregular, deeper, face more flushed. One leg wrestles itself from your grip. It throws itself over your shoulder, bending to push your head even closer. Soothing, you brush her heated flesh.

In her sleep, her pelvis rocks up. It’s subconsciously grinding her whole pussy on your face, seeking the tip of your nose to satisfy her needy clit. That’s fine with you — you can shove your tongue inside her pussy and curl it against the rough texture near the entrance in the meantime.

Both of your hands are squeezing and massaging her tits, wanting to hear more sleepy moans and groans from her pretty lips. You could play with them for hours. They’re a work of wonder. She’s always pressing them against your back, your arms, in your face. Sometimes you think she does it on purpose. Perhaps you hope she does.

Lewd sounds are being wrung out by your mouth, which has become an expert in her body by now: squelches, slurrrrps, and the sticking of skin with the messiness of her wetness spreading itself all over your cheeks, chin, her inner thighs.

You look at the alarm clock on her bedside table.

4 minutes. 

How time flies when you’re having fun. 

“Alright, Sho. You’re gonna need to cum for me,” you tell her, slapping the side of her tit to watch it bounce. She gasps. 

Since she hasn’t woken up yet, her bladder’s probably full. And everyone knows the best time to touch yourself is when you need to pee. She’s not an exception. 

You press a hand down on her lower belly as you wrap your swollen lips around her clit. At the same time that you apply pressure, you suuuuckkk! it hard.

Roommate!Shoko’s hips jerk. They threaten to pull away from you. You hold her body down, mercilessly devouring her cunt with increasing hunger. The pulsing of her clit and the clenching of her insides have intensified. She’s close. Really close.

“N-no,” she breathes out. “Nghhh, gonna -hah- gonna…”

She’s throwing her head side to side, eyes shut tight, and low moans turning into louder groans and whines. 

Finally, her body tenses. 

A ferocious climax tears right through her. 

You hold her firmly as she cums, lapping incessantly at the juices overflowing, threatening to stain her bedsheets. Your hips hump the bed, overwhelmed by the tightness of her thighs which clamp around your bed, trying to suffocate you, undecided between wanting to push you away or pull you in. 

There’s barely any stimulation. It’s frustrating. Infuriating. Maddening. Maybe you should try scissoring with her. Would she mind? 

The clock reads that there’s only a minute to spare. Sloppy work.

Knowing that any second now, she’ll be waking up, you give her quick licks around to clean her up. Then you move her panties back into place. Right as the alarm goes off, you’re standing to your feet.

Roommate!Shoko’s eyes flutter open. 

She grips a breast in one hand and her pussy with the other, wanting to calm the aches you’re sure as she’s still feeling the tremors of pleasure in her system.

“Morning, Sho.”

Her eyes dart to you. She lets her body go. If she’s embarrassed she’s been caught grinding into the heel of her palm, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she gives you a lazy smile. “Mmm, hi, gorgeous. You know how I love when you’re the first thing I see in the mornings.”

Even freshly woken up, she’s a flirt. 

Taking her hand, you pull her to a sitting position. She runs a hand through her hair and exhales. “Man, whatever you did, you did really well. I feel so light. Mm, my pussy’s tingling.”

“We don’t talk about it, remember?”

Roommate!Shoko bites her lip, and, with a smirk, raises her arms in surrender. “Of course. My bad.”

Her hands grip your hips. You find your body being used as leverage so that she can get to her feet. You’re chest to chest now. Her hard nipples scrape yours. You fight the urge to moan right in her face. Pelvis to pelvis too; you feel the heat of her pussy through your shorts. You wonder if she feels yours.

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, she purrs, “You always take such good care of me, don’t you, roomie?”

“Anything to afford rent,” you say.

With a yawn, she side steps you to head to her en-suite bathroom. “Don’t I know it? Well, I appreciate you coming into my room everyday to make sure I wake up to my alarm. You go above and beyond. You’re the best. I love you, babe.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You fall to her bed. Partly because your knees are weak, because your pussy’s still throbbing and you need some friction, and partly to hide the wet spot that’s formed on her sheet. 

At the doorway, she pauses. 

Turning her head to look at you, she gives a wry smile. That’s all the warning you get before she’s shrugging her shirt and panties off. You get an eyeful of pale skin and curves you want to take a bite of. 

“Shoko!”

Roommate!Shoko looks at you with innocent, bambi eyes. “What’s wrong? We’re both girls.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you splutter, looking away even though you really want to look. And occasionally looking back, as though you can’t help it. “Where are your manners?”

The girl’s shameless.

Truly, utterly shameless.

A normal person would be ashamed that they have to be eaten out by their roommate to wake up. A normal person wouldn’t be undressing right in front of their roommate. But then again, a normal person wouldn’t be eating their roommate out for money either. 

She rolls her eyes. “My manners?” she repeats. “Where are yours?”

“What’re you talking about?”

Roommate!Shoko runs a finger across her lips and says, “Got a little something there.” 

Face flushing, you hurriedly wipe away her juices from your lips and chin. Oh god, that is humiliating. How long had that been there? Why didn’t she say anything sooner?

She laughs. “You know, you’re allowed to try different methods to wake me up, right?”

“Oh.” A twinge of disappointment hits you. Frowning a little, you ask, “You want me to go back to wafting smelling salts under your nose? That did seem to work for a little bit.”

Roommate!Shoko shakes her head. “No, babes, I’m saying you should let me have something sweet once in a while. Switch it up here and there, y’know? Have some fun for yourself.” With a grin that’s all sorts of bad for your heart rate, she adds, “I don’t bite.”

You gulp.

“Noted.”

[gojosconsort]

mdni. he says he’s 83. but he possibly can’t be, so you laugh and let him finger you at the bar anyway.

yuji itadori has always been terrible at lying.

so when you ask his name—after he’s been staring at you all night in that bar behind your workplace—he tells you it’s yuji. and when you ask how old he is, he tells you he’s 83. you just stare at him for a second. then you break out laughing.

he can’t be that old. obviously. you assume he’s joking, and yuji laughs too, a little nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. because how could he possibly explain that he’s telling the truth? that he is 83, that he just ages very, very slowly, and that despite it all he still looks like he’s barely in his late twenties, at most.

not exactly the kind of small talk you drop on someone you just met. especially not someone you already feel, stupidly and suddenly, like you could spend the rest of your life with. so you treated it like a joke, and he let you.

the night wore on. customers left one by one. last call came and went. the other bartender grumbled something about cleaning the kitchen and told you both to get lost, but neither of you moved. the neon sign outside buzzes softly while rain taps against the windows.

you stay.

he stays.

and eventually the place was empty except for the two of you.

you hop up to sit on the bar, skirt riding up just enough to show the soft skin of your thighs. yuji steps between your knees without thinking—like his body knew where it belonged before his brain caught up.

“what are you doing?” he asks, playing dumb.

your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. “you’re cute when you’re flustered,” you murmured.

his hands land on your thighs—tentative at first, then bolder when you don’t pull away. you part your legs a little wider. his breath catches when his fingers slip under your skirt, past the waistband of your panties, finding you slick and warm already.

“yuji…” you whisper.

he groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder. “god, you’re so—” he can’t finish the sentence. his fingers slide through your folds, slow and careful, circling your clit until your hips jerk against his palm. he pushes one finger inside you, then two, curling them just right while his thumb keeps moving against your clit. you gasp against his neck, nails biting into his shoulders through his shirt.

he wants to tell you everything.

about the curses crawling through tokyo at night. about the monster he saved you from before. about how he’s been quietly watching over you long before tonight—walking you home from a distance, lingering in the shadows outside your workplace, making sure nothing with teeth or claws ever got close enough to touch you.

about how he’s twenty-three going on forever and terrified you’ll run screaming if you ever saw the real him. about how he’s never wanted anyone like this—like air, like gravity, like something he can’t survive without.

instead he kisses you—deep and desperate—while his fingers fuck you in this shitty little place in shibuya. you clench around him, moan into his mouth, and he thinks maybe he can keep the lie going just a little longer.

“eighty-three, huh?” you pant against his lips after you came down from your high—shuddering, soaking his hand.

he laughs, breathless. “yeah. old man perks.”

you kiss him again, softer this time.

he thinks he might tell you the truth tomorrow.

or maybe the day after.

for now, this—your legs around his waist, his fingers still buried inside you, your smile against his—is more than enough.

[darlingbambii]

husband!Higuruma coming home exhausted and fucking you slow in the bath (18+)

You swear you were just planning to collapse on the sofa when you got home. Maybe order some takeaway and watch some mindless TV show with your legs stretched across your husband's lap.

So, exactly how did you end up straddling Hiromi Higuruma in the bathtub, hot water sloshing over the edge as you sink down onto him?

“That's it, darling. Just like that.”

Hiromi's voice is low and rough, strained in a way that makes heat slick down your spine and pool between your thighs. His hand grips your hips beneath the water surface, gently guiding you as you adjust to the stretch of him inside you.

You found him in here five minutes ago, tie discarded somewhere in the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned and abandoned on the bathroom floor. He'd been leaning back in the tub with his eyes closed, the water up to his chest, looking more exhausted than you'd seen him in weeks. The case he's working on is brutal, you know that. Long hours, impossible odds, the kind of work that wore him down.

"Join me?" he'd asked, opening one eye to look at you, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression that you couldn't refuse.

And that's how your own clothes joined him on the floor before you slipped into the bath with him.

Now his hair is wet and pushed back from his face, water droplets clinging to his jaw and the tip of his nose, and he's looking at you like you're the only thing that's keeping him from totally dissociating

“I missed you,” you murmur, rolling your hips experimentally. The water makes everything feel different than it would be in the bedroom. More languid and slower, every shift and movement creating a ripple against your skin.

“Missed you too.” His thumb traces circles on your hip bone, a tender gesture that contrasts with the way he's so deeply buried inside of you. “Missed you so much, I thought about you all day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the hours until I could see you again.”

There's something unfairly attractive about him like this. His usually so composed in his suits and professional demeanour, now completely undone. His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the bath, his lips parted as he watches you move above him, and those tired, dark eyes are filled with something that makes your heart flutter.

"You're beautiful," he says, almost reverent, one hand leaving your hip to cup your face. Water drips from his fingers down your cheek. “Do you know that? How beautiful you are?”

You lean into his touch, your own hands braced on his shoulders for leverage. "You might have mentioned it a few times today before work.”

"Not enough, then." He pulls you down into a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against yours as you continue to move. When he pulls back, he's smiling—that rare, genuine smile that transforms his whole face. "I should tell you more often.”

The water sloshes dangerously as you pick up your pace, and Hiromi makes a low sound of appreciation, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and you gasp at the sensation.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. "Taking me so perfectly. You feel incredible.”

There's something about the praise, the genuine affection in his tone, that makes everything feel more intense. This isn't just sex. It's comfort, connection, coming home to each other after a long day and finding solace in familiar touches.

"Hiromi," you breathe, your rhythm faltering as pleasure builds low in your stomach. “Fuck, I'm-”

"I know." One hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit with practised ease. The water makes his touch slippery, maddening, and you rock against his hand desperately. "I've got you. Come for me, darling.”

His other hand tangles in your wet hair, pulling you down for another kiss as his hips start to move beneath you, meeting your movements with deep, purposeful thrusts that make the water splash over the side of the tub. But you just can't seem to bring yourself to care about the mess.

"So good to me," he murmurs against your lips. "So perfect. What did I do to deserve you?”

The combination of his fingers, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and his voice, fuck, that deep, sincere voice telling you how much he wants you, needs you, sends you over the edge. Your orgasm rolls through you in waves that seem to match the water around you, and you bury your face in his neck to muffle your moans.

"Beautiful," Hiromi groans, his rhythm becoming erratic as you clench around him. “You're so beautiful when you come undone for me.”

He follows moments later, his grip on you tightening as he buries himself deep, your name falling from his lips like something precious. For a long moment, you stay like that, wrapped around each other in the cooling water, both breathing hard.

When you finally lift your head to look at him, his expression is soft, content in a way you rarely see. He reaches up to brush wet strands of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"For the sex?" you tease, though your voice is breathless.

"For coming home to me." He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "For being here.”

You settle against his chest, the water lapping gently around you both. "Always," you murmur. "Though we should probably clean up this mess before it leaks through to our downstairs neighbour.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. “In a minute. Let me hold you first.”

And really, how can you argue with that?

[gojosluut]

Husband Satoru during bulking season

ᥫ᭡.

Satoru always had a big appetite especially when it came to sweets. But in the following weeks of winter you noticed his appetite dramatically increased.

He would take extras of whatever you cooked for breakfast, told you to pack him more of those protein bars that tasted like artificial birthday cake, asked you to cook extra of whatever meat you cooked for dinner, Overall he just became more of a glutton than he already was.

One night you finally noticed the changes in his body.

He was changing out of his sorcerer uniform. His back was broader being able to see some of his muscles when he moved just right, he turned around as he fixed his baggy t-shirt from being inside out. Your eyes scan his front. Chest heavier, arms bigger yet looked a little soft, and his abs not as defined anymore.

He was fucking huge.

his eyes follow your gaze on him white eyebrow quirking upwards with that stupid knowing grin spreading across his lips. One long stride over to the bed his large hands go on either side of your hips on the mattress - large body looming over you looking down at you.

“you’ve been staring at me all night, wanna tell me that’s all about?” his voice teasingly low, of course he got a kick out of you eyeing him up since he took off his shirt.

you swallowed hard your eyes trailing from his soft abs up at his face, his lips still plastered with that stupid grin of his.

“you’re huge,” is all you could manage to say with how intensely he was looking at you his blue eyes having that crazy glow to them.

Satoru sighs out a chuckle, large hands leaving the mattress landing on your waist gently pushing you down flat on the plush mattress before completely smothering you with his huge body making you let out noise from how overwhelmingly heavy he is.

“Satoru! get off,” you whine weakly. hands smacking his broad upper back that just made him chuckle again. His nose dips down into your neck placing soft kisses against the warm skin.

“but you’ve been looking at me all night like you’re gonna eat me,” he says in between kisses on your neck making you squirm weakly under him.

“that’s only because you look different,” you groan weakly still trying to get out from under his crashing body.

Satoru lifts his head up looking down at you with a slight pout

“good different or bad different?”

you sigh with relief, atleast half his weight is off you now

“obviously a good different,” you reply softly looking up at him. Chest lightly heaving from catching your breath after just being crushed by him.

then with full force he smothers you again with his entire body weight, his lips overwhelming your face in kisses.

“i knew you love it,” he grins against your cheek before attacking it again with soft kisses making you sigh knowing you’d be under him for awhile.

ᥫ᭡.

(semi proof read)

[an9els]

𝜗𝜚 play fighting with your bf gets a little too heated when he realizes you love being pinned ><

( mdni. cw: size kink, strength kink, dry humping, finger sucking, praise + teasing, light dom!gojo )

you really should’ve known better than to challenge him.

you were on the living room floor— socks half off, shirt tugged crooked from where he yanked it mid-scuffle, hair all messy from being dragged into several ungraceful positions— and your overly powerful menace of a boyfriend was straddling your thighs, arms crossed, smirking down at you like he hadn’t just been caught dry humping you during what was supposed to be innocent wrestling.

“get. off. me,” you grumble, eyes narrowing as you shift under his weight. gojo just raises an eyebrow.

“make me.”

you glare harder. “satoru—”

he shrugs innocently, white hair flopping into his face. “you told me not to go easy on you. this is me being nice, baby. if i was actually using my full strength, you’d be a pretty little pancake right now.”

“you’re still going easy on me!” you snap, squirming. “you’ve been holding back this whole time—!”

“duh,” he snorts, effortlessly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “you want me to fold you like a pretzel? because i can.”

you groan, rolling your eyes. “god, you’re so annoying—”

he leans down, voice low and amused, lips brushing your ear. “and you’re the one who started all this. rolling around in those tiny ass shorts, trying to take me down like you’re not just a cute little flyweight. do you want to get dominated, baby?”

your breath stutters. “you’re so—”

and then you feel it.

you freeze.

you look down.

and there it is— his rock-hard dick pressing against you through his sweats, twitching right up against your core.

“…are you hard?”

his grin is so smug you want to punch him. or maybe kiss him. it’s a fine line these days.

“maybe,” he drawls, grinding down just a little. “kinda your fault, sweetheart. you’ve been all over me for fifteen minutes. straddling my lap. squealing when i flipped you over. moaning—”

“i did not moan.”

he laughs. “you definitely did. you sounded so cute.”

“you’re sick.”

“and you’re wet.”

your cheeks burn. “shut up—”

“nah,” he hums, grinding again, this time slower, firmer, pressing his cock right between your thighs. “you feel that? that heat? mmh, such a dirty girl. bet if i slid my fingers under those little shorts, i’d find you soaked.”

you hate how right he is. you hate how breathless you sound when you try to argue. “that’s because you’re rubbing all up on me—!”

“you said don’t go easy.”

“that didn’t mean this! you’re cheating!”

“baby,” he chuckles darkly, lowering his voice. “i’m not even using my full strength yet.”

you squirm harder, but your hips betray you, rolling up to meet the friction, chasing the pressure of his dick against your clothed pussy. gojo watches, gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips and the slow, lazy rut of your hips.

“so needy,” he mutters. “grinding up on me like a lil bunny. you like it when i pin you like this, huh?”

you whimper, just a little. “‘toru…”

“mm?” he leans closer, mouthing at your neck, dragging his teeth along your skin. “say it. say you love how strong i am. say you love when i manhandle you.”

you shiver. “i love it.”

his hand trails down, tugging your shorts aside so he can press his fingers right over your soaked panties. “fuck,” he breathes, “you’re drenched.”

and that’s when the dry humping turns dangerous.

he presses his hips down, cock grinding hard against you in slow, steady rolls as his fingers keep teasing you over the fabric. you cling to his shoulders, nails digging in, whimpering at the friction, the way it’s not enough but almost too much at the same time.

“you gonna cum just like this, pretty girl?” he coos, voice all mock sympathy. “just from rubbing on your boyfriend’s cock like a desperate little slut?”

you gasp his name, bucking up against him.

he grins wickedly, pulls your hand up to his mouth, and sucks two of your fingers between his lips. messy. loud. obscene.

“mmph,” he moans, eyes fluttering half-shut as he sucks. “think i’m gonna fuck you into the damn carpet.”

“we’re literally in the middle of the floor,” you pant, dazed.

“you think i care?” he mumbles around your fingers. “i’ll fuck you on the ceiling if you ask nicely.”

you’re too far gone to argue.

not long after, the clothes start coming off. your shorts get tossed across the room. his sweats drop to his thighs. your panties are peeled off like wrapping paper. gojo wastes no time dragging the fat head of his cock through your slick folds, pausing to slap it against your clit just to hear you whine.

“told you i wasn’t going easy,” he grins, lining up with your entrance. “and you still haven’t gotten me off you.”

“maybe i don’t wanna anymore.”

he smirks. “smart girl.”

[ one hour later… ]

you’re both sprawled across the carpet, hair wild, skin sweaty, breathing shallow. your thighs are shaking. his dick is twitching. there’s an open bottle of gatorade rolling somewhere under the couch from when you tried to hydrate mid-round three.

“you broke me,” you mumble.

“you broke yourself,” gojo grins, kissing your cheek. “this was all your idea.”

“you’re never allowed to ‘not go easy’ on me again.”

“mmm, but you loved it.”

“no i didn’t.”

“you literally came on my dick and bit my shoulder.”

“…shut up.”

he just laughs and throws his arm around you, tugging you into his chest.

“…wanna go again?” he mumbles, nuzzling your temple.

“only if you carry me to the bed this time.”

he grins.

“deal.”

[lemonswirlss]

Is This Thing On? ♪‧₊˚

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?

warnings: stalking from both ends :: obsession :: porn with plot :: codependency :: jealousy :: slight manipulation :: humiliation :: praise and degradation :: darcyphilia :: tummy bulges :: breeding :: creampie :: fingering :: blowjobs :: overstimulation :: multiple orgasms :: reader cums untouched :: freaky tongue shit :: masturbation :: spanking, consented filming. 7.5k words

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.

tags <3 : @killakuna @liliklei @getopilleds

[getorade]

the nerd and the shy girl

synopsis: he shows up in spider-man pajamas and a box of chocolates, and suddenly your first date with satoru gojo is anything but innocent on valentines day. between teasing touches, awkward confessions, and nerves that won’t quit, the night becomes a lesson in temptation, discovery, and how dangerously good firsts can feel. pairing(s): nerdjo x shy fem!reader c.w. & w.c.: 7.1k :: inexperienced/virgin reader & nerdjo :: smut with plot :: oral (f receiving) :: p in v :: fluff :: anxiety :: happy ending - valentines event collab w/ @sixxels !

it was a week before valentines or maybe it was tomorrow, you couldn't remember.

nor did you really care, at least that's what you kept telling yourself- to make yourself feel better? likely.

you're already running behind- taking too long to do your hair and the light makeup you always brushed onto your cheeks.

you don't know why you did that. wearing makeup, nobody paid you a second glance, you were the quiet college student rushing to each class before the professors made it into the classroom.

maybe, it was because that white haired boy and wanting to catch his eye- perhaps you did care just slightly about valentines day.

you quickly find your seat in the classroom, running just a few seconds late and set your bag down beside you before pulling out your notebook and pencil.

"hey, you find a date for v-day yet?" a low whisper hits the back of your ear.

shoko.

your best friend, really the only friend you've made.

your shoulders stiffen, just barely but noticeable to her before you answer.

"no," you say softly, trying to mask the disappointment in your tone and the heat crawling up your neck. "it's okay. have you?"

"geto asked me a few days ago," her words hesitate for just a second seeing the flicker in your eyes. "i said yes. i can ask if you can join us."

shoko was never as shy as you were and you always envied that part about her- always making friends and putting herself out there to make new connections with others while you on the other hand, never did.

your skin crawls at the thought of joining her and geto on the date.

third wheeling? absolutely not.

before you can answer her, your attention is pulled back towards the front of the room where the squeaky door is swinging open again-

your breath catches in your throat before you're able to control it when you see that fluffy white hair and those framed ocean blue eyes- gojo, he's always had that effect on you.

shoko catches your reaction and the way your eyes follow him to his seat- she's always known you liked him, you never shut up about him. his glasses, his eyes, his hair, the times you've caught the faintest whiff of the cologne he was wearing.

"you could always ask him out." shoko whispers, those brown eyes gleaming with mischief.

you'd rather die.

your thoughts haven't slowed once since he walked in and your eyes haven't wavered once- you've never been more thankful that he sits towards the front of the room with his back towards you.

though, you always did feel like he could sense something, or someone staring into his soul with how often he would turn around only to immediately lock eyes with you before quickly turning to face the board again.

but never without offering you one of his tight lipped smiles.

"no, i'm good- and don't ask geto if i can join the two of you. . .that's weird."

shoko sighs before leaning back in her seat. "suit yourself, loner."

maybe she'll bring you a slice of cake back that you can eat while watching some sappy rom-com movie about love and dreaming about gojo and those electric blue eyes.

should you listen to shoko's advice and ask him out? from what you know about him, he was just as shy as you were.

the worst he could possibly say is no, or he'd laugh right in your face. no, he wouldn't do that.

before your thoughts can drag you any further into the abyss, the professor is walking in. you blink, trying to reassign your focus on the front of classroom and away from-

gojo's eyes staring right back into yours- those blue eyes are gazing into yours like he's reading every thought flying through your mind.

you know your face must be as bright as ripe cherries, your cheeks feel like they're on fire and you still haven't pried your eyes away from his, yet.

the history professor clears his throat, the rasp of his voice slicing your thoughts like a blade. "alright, settle down. today we're going over-"

you finally tear your eyes away from gojo's piercing gaze, letting them fall back to your notebook, your mind isn't picking up any of the words. instead, your mind drifts. again.

back to the fleeting moments of the interactions the two of you have had- the accidental touches in the library when you would exchange notes, the soft laughs when you'd crack a small joke that only you felt like you could hear or the ridiculous way you'd both spot each other in any room.

a smile tugs at the corner of your lips at the memories and you quickly hide it, eyes gliding to gojo for just a brief second. good. he's paying attention to the professor.

the professors words drone on- sounding more like a distant background noise instead of someone actively speaking loudly just steps away. something about dates, wars, revolutionary- it all floats in one ear and out the other.

you eventually put your pencil to your notebook, so you can at least look like you're paying attention while your mind is looped with thoughts of him.

you force yourself to jot down notes but your handwriting is sloppy, nothing like your neat and pristine handwriting you use when you're typically in class.

time looms on for the next hour, trying your hardest to avoid staring at him even when you'd catch him turning his head to steal a glance at you before averting his eyes like he wasn't supposed to be watching.

when you finally did decide to look again is exactly when you caught the tail end of your professors words. "—and that's all for today. you can leave now."

you blink and let out a sigh of relief. finally, you can get out of this class and away from your humiliation of staring at gojo and the defeat that lingered from shoko's words.

you're shoving your notebook and pencil back into your bag, bending your cover in the midst of it when shoko's voice pricks your ears again.

"do you want to come over tonight? we can order chinese, watch a dumb movie and i'll let you help me pick what to wear."

you hold back another sigh. she's just trying to be supportive, that's what you tell yourself- if for anything, your sanity.

"uh, sure- i'll come by. what time?" you ask her, mental exhaustion already creeping in with the linger of dread of what you'll have to listen to tonight.

you don't really want to go over to her dorm and listen to her ramble on about her date with geto, the boy who she's been crushing on a shorter period of time than you've liked gojo. you know it's the jealousy creeping its way in; it always does.

"mmm. whenever, we have four hours left of hell-" she says, already moving towards the door to head to the next class. "just text me."

maybe you can say you toppled down the stairs and broke your leg, that could get you out of it. no- she would just bring her wardrobe to you and torture you in your own peaceful corner.

you bend over to grab your bag when a shadow looms over you- not dangerously, not too close but a comfortable distance, reflected on the ground below the classrooms fluorescent lighting.

your nerves are already bundling in the pit of your stomach when your eyes catch the shoes- those squeaky clean and checkered vans. the shoes that have probably never stepped a single toe into mud or a dust particle. gojo's

your breath hitches when the realization finally slams in. your back straightens out before you can talk yourself back from it or just bolt from the room. your eyes immediately meet his.

gojo is standing awkwardly- one hand on the shoulder strap of his book bag while his other arm hangs loosely and fidgeting his fingers like a nervous tic.

you clear your throat softly. "hi gojo, everything okay?"

his blue eyes widen like he wasnt expecting you to say something first, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows before his hand is tightening on the strap of his bag.

“yeah! i mean, yeah. everything’s fine.” he pauses with a wince like he already hates how that sounded. “i just. . .uh.”

the silence stretches with your nerves when he pauses- it's thick, unbearable and only broken by the scrape of the chair and the scruff of shoes as other students leave the room. you're becoming more aware of just how close the two of you are standing, too close to breathe normally.

“i was wondering,” he starts again, voice quieter now, almost hesitant and shy. his eyes flickering anywhere but yours- the floor, the whiteboard, the door- before finally landing back on yours. “if you were busy on valentine’s day?"

your breath stutters, right along with your heart. you blink, still staring directly into his eyes, not being able to pull them away but not being able to move your mouth to even answer him.

gojo notices your hesitation, eyes widening just a fraction larger. “i mean,” he rushes on, words tripping over each other, “if you are, that’s totally fine. like, completely fine. i just thought-” another pause, fingers fidgeting harder now. “i thought maybe we could hang out. watch a movie or something. order pizza.”

he offers you a small, tight lipped and no doubt nervous smile as your mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

"it can be just us-"

"-yes" your words cutting through gojo's rambles, it slips out before you can second guess yourself. "i- i mean, i'm not busy on valentines day. sorry."

your cheeks heat up at your mishap, fingers curling into the strap of your bag like it might anchor you in place.

gojo freezes.

and for a split second he just stares at you, blue eyes wide and unblinking like his brain is desperately trying to catch up with what you just said. then- and slowly- his shoulders drop, tension melting out of him in a way that makes your chest ache.

“oh,” he says, dumbly. then, quieter, softer, “oh.”

a smile starts to tug at his lips before he can stop it. it’s small at first, hesitant, like he’s afraid it might disappear if he acknowledges it too much. his fingers still fidget, but not as frantic now.

“you’re not. . .busy?” he asks, just to be sure, confirming after your little moment.

you shake your head, a little too eagerly. “no. i’m not.”

the grin that spreads across his face this time is real- warm, a little crooked. the kind that makes your heart do flips in your chest.

“okay,” he breathes out, almost like a laugh. “okay, good. i mean- not good that you didn’t have plans. just- good. for me. for us. i think.”

you let out a tiny, nervous huff of a laugh before you can stop yourself.

“pizza and a movie sounds. . .nice,” you add, quieter now- nerves slowly fraying away.

gojo’s ears turn pink at the tips, noticeably so.

“yeah?” he asks. “i mean- yeah. cool. nice is good.”

the classroom is almost empty now, the last of the noise fading as the door swings shut behind the final student. suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you, standing in the quiet aftermath of something that feels important.

“i can- uh,” he adjusts the strap of his bag again. “i can text you? about when and stuff?”

“yeah,” you nod. “yeah, that works.”

you and gojo quickly swap phones to put each other's number in before another small pause settles between the two of you- not bad. lighter and more charged.

“happy early valentine’s day,” he says softly as he turns to leave the classroom.

your heart melts a little.

“happy early valentine’s day, gojo” you echo.

you stand there watching him leave the classroom before another voice is shattering your stunned silence.

"i knew it, i knew it and i couldn't tell you- oh my god!" shoko excited voice comes from behind, clamping her hand down onto your shoulder. "geto told me that gojo was planning to ask you, made me swear i wouldn't spill a bean."

your heart is thundering in your chest, loud enough you're sure shoko can hear it before you turn to face her, cheeks still flaming like a bonfire.

"he asked me out-" your eyes are set on gojo's number on your screen, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "well, in but- i have a date. for valentines."

shoko's hand shakes your shoulder slightly, averting your attention from the number and to her face. "i know, i know- geto helped him so much, it was so sappy and a little pathetic."

"valentines is still a few days away, i have time to process this-"

"valentines is tomorrow. get it together, sweets."

"tomorrow?" your mouth runs dry when you look back to your phone.

the date, february 13th is staring right back at you. valentines is tomorrow.

"you two are staying in, right?" shoko asks, gently pulling you into the hall to move to the next class.

"yeah, pizza and a movie."

"and sex." shoko whispers right into your ear, careful to avoid others students in the hall hearing.

you nearly trip over your own feet at her words, the squeak coming from your shoe causing a few students to look your way like you inconvenienced their important conversations. you freeze, neck snapping over to look at her gleaming eyes.

"w-what did you just say?"

"sex. happens like every valentines, even for the shys and the nerds, trust me."

if your heart speeds up anymore, you're sure it's gonna run flat out of your chest.

"i can't, i can't have sex-"

"why not? are you a virgin? it's college, loosen up." shoko says, like it's easy- you wouldn't even know what to expect.

you hesitate at her question and she catches it before covering her mouth with her hand that's fallen open.

"you are a virgin, aren't you?"

"yeah. ." you whisper, you didn't even want to answer but you know shoko, she wouldn't have dropped the topic until you did. "i am."

she pats you on the back before you walk into your next lecture. "don't worry, he probably is too."

that's something you could believe, as rude as it sounds. you haven't known him super long but while you have, you've never once seen him with a woman, let alone even looking at one until you'd catch his eye's on you in class.

"be gentle with each other, first times are special." shoko whispers before finally disappearing into the wave of students.

the nerves that had faded came back ten fold in your stomach as you found your seat in your next class, churning and pulling at every nerve in your body like a live wire touching water.

- you had never been more thankful to step back outside and into the warm air than you were today. you barely had any focus in any of your classes, thinking of gojo, tomorrow, the movie, what to wear and the heavy topic shoko left you spiraling with.

losing your virginity? this was your first date, he wasn't even your boyfriend, yet. would it hurt? would the both of you look like fools, if it was indeed his first time too?

your thoughts are broken by the short vibration in your pocket, you quickly pull out your phone when you see gojo's name in your notification bar.

satoru gojo: hey. is 6pm a good time for you tomorrow night? we can do earlier or later, entirely up to you.

before you can type a message back, another one is pinging through.

satoru gojo: and would you like to come to my dorm? or i can come to yours. i want you to be where you feel comfortable. pajamas or are we dressing up for pizza and a movie?

your heart swells at his thoughtfulness before typing a quick text back to him-

6pm is perfect, can we do my dorm? i have a comfortable bed, dont worry and pajamas work- haha, no need for dresses and suits over some greasy pizza and a movie.

gojo's text comes through seconds after you hit send.

satoru gojo: perfect. your dorm it is. i'll wear my fanciest pajamas, i wont disappoint ;)

you can't stop the dorky grin pulling at your mouth before you pocket your phone and start your short trek back to your dorm room- you need to clean up, get rid of that mountain of clothes on your chair that haunts you in the middle of the night.

you quickly bob and weave between all of the students trying to make it to their cars or to their own dorms, offering short "sorrys" and "excuse me's" when sliding in between bodies or bumping into someone.

the disbelief still sat heavy in your chest, the feeling mixing with the excitement and the nerves still twisting deep in your gut.

you reach your dorm before you realize how fast your feet were carrying you. the familiar brick exterior looms in front of you, students drift in and out of the building- laughing, talking, living completely normal lives like something monumental didn't just happen.

like you didn't just agree to a valentines date with satoru gojo.

your hand hesitates on the door handle before pushing the door open to walk down another long hall to your room.

your roommate isn't there when you open the door and it's exactly how you left it. chaotic- clothes draped over your chair, textbooks stacked unevenly and threatening to topple over, empty water bottles strewn across the floor. it's hell.

your heart drops straight to your feet when the realization hits you- you told gojo the date would be here. your dorm.

"oh my god." you mutter, your hands fly into your hair as you stare longer at the mess- having some inner hope that it would mysteriously clean itself up if you stare hard enough.

you walk further into the room before spinning in a slow circle, more and more thoughts looping through your mind. this is unacceptable, what if he thinks your room smells weird or that your bed is too small?

sighing, you drop your bag onto your bed and start moving to clean, as if you don't have an entire day left to still do it.

you start grabbing all the clothes before shoving them into a laundry basket hidden away in your closet, wiping down your desk that's dust covered with your makeup and really, who knows what else before opening your window to air out your dorm.

it didn't have a smell, quite the opposite actually- you always made it a habit to use room freshener daily, if not multiple times a day causing your room to smell like flowers.

the rest of your afternoon blurs into you moving like a maniac in a montage to finish your room, by the end of it- you found the library book you could've sworn your roommate stole, a moldy granola bar and mismatched socks.

you rearranged your pillows a for the last time, for tonight before collapsing onto your bed.

what kind of pajamas do you wear? silky? cotton? shorts and a tank top or your typical go-to of sweatpants and whichever shirt you grabbed first that somehow always had a stain on it.

before your thoughts could take you any further, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. your heart sped up at the thought of it being gojo again, just to see shoko's name lighting up on your screen.

you swipe to answer, masking your sigh as a pathetic cough. "hello?"

"are you spiral cleaning yet?" there's a laugh in the background, probably geto.

"mm- no, i've kept my dorm clean all week-" you lie smoothly, you weren't about to admit that you spiraled the second you walked in. "have you found a dress?"

"no, i'll send you some pictures later. help me choose one, i only have a few options."

you can hear her whispering something to geto before you hear movement and a door shut-

her voice cuts through the line again in a hushed whisper. "have you shaved? i can come wax you."

the nerves you had managed to ignore long enough with your cleaning jump into your throat again. her words from earlier replaying in your mind like a broken mixtape- "sex. happens like every valentines, even for the shys and the nerds, trust me."

"are you there?"

"yeah, yeah, im here but- no, i haven't. later, probably." you huff out, you didn't want to think about it, - about sex, about shaving, any of it.

you weren't opposed to having sex with gojo. you just didn't know what you were doing, truth be told. the most you've ever had was a man go down on you at the beginning of the year after you were dragged to a party by shoko to try and get you out of your shell.

clearly, that didn't work. and neither did the man on giving you an orgasm.

"well, i know geto gave him some pointers tonight-" shoko whispers, sounding excited for you.

the blush, unseen resting on your cheeks had to be the color of a firetruck by now.

"what?" you sit up in bed, suddenly laser focused in on the phone call.

your heart was pounding in your chest. was gojo going through the same humiliating ritual with geto that shoko was putting you through?

you squeeze your eyes shut, you're about to ask again- or for further information when you could hear geto in the background calling for shoko to come back out and finish whatever they were doing.

you didn't want to know, either.

shoko sighs, defeated on the fact that she was cock blocked from giving you anymore information. "i gotta go, let me know how tomorrow goes. get dick."

there's a click before the line goes silent and reverts back to your home screen.

"story of my life." you whisper to yourself, you place your phone back on the nightstand before plopping back into your pillows and rolling onto your side.

you were too exhausted from the events of the day to move from your bed, too riddled with nerves- your first date. with your crush. in your dorm.

it was all too much to process, at least for tonight.

- valentines morning came quick, too quick.

the light pouring in from the window you never shut was the first thing you noticed before you heard your phone buzz once with a notification.

you blink the sleep away from your eyes before grabbing it, still lazily in bed-

satoru gojo: good morning and happy valentines. i hope you had a good rest. are you still okay for the movie night?

a sleepy smile tugs at your lips before you type back- happy valentines. movie is still great!

there were no classes today, you had hours to get ready. though, the room was done, so all you needed was to pick out a decent pair of pajamas that didn't have the latest pizza nights stain on them and shower.

perfect.

you slowly climb out of bed and walk to your dresser before sliding open the drawers- spider man pants? no. though, a nerd would probably like those.

you keep shoveling through your drawer when you come across your sleep shorts, the ones you always manage to lose. the ones that actually make your ass look good.

would that be too much? would he think you're begging to sleep with him from a pair of pajama bottoms?

you toss the shorts onto your shoulder before you can overthink yourself out of it. that would be the story of your life. you're able to find a shirt without a stain or tear with quickness.

maybe, this is a sign of good luck.

you're about to move to the shower when another buzz comes from your phone.

a text from shoko.

shoko: don't wear granny panties. wear that nice pair you got from vs.

she would think so little of you, wouldn't she? but when you pulled down the clothes from your shoulder, pulling the underwear from the stack. . .maybe she had a point.

you don't bother texting her back. you need to find that black lace set you got months ago and never had the opportunity to wear yet.

thankfully, you don't have to rustle too far or deep into your closet to find it. the bag, crisp and pristine, tissue paper untouched was exactly where you left it on the top shelf of your closet.

you quickly move into the bathroom to undress and get into the shower- washing your hair twice, scrubbing you body with a body sugar that your mom got you last christmas before drenching your body in soap and shaving cream.

stepping out to dry off, you felt like a new woman. not really, but your entire body smelled like coconut and was as soft as silk. so, same difference.

sliding on the lace bra and underwear felt foreign on your skin- on your entire body. the set fit like a glove, making you feel confident before sliding your legs into the sleep shorts and shirt.

the rest of the day passed in a blur- triple checking your room for any crumbs that would've magically appeared, texting gojo the directions to your dorm, ignoring shoko's helpful tips and watching a comedy show to help ignore the nerves pulling at every inch of your soul.

it worked. probably a little too well when it lured you into a sleep-induced coma.

you were confident the universe was looking out for you when you pried your eyeballs back open to see the sun was thankfully up and you didn't unintentionally ghost gojo.

5:56pm.

he'd be here any minute, he was always on time. calculated to perfection, probably standing outside your dorm room waiting to knock. not that you were going to check.

the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow as you watched the time on your phone- if you didn't know any better, you would've thought an elephant was on your shoulders with the stress you were suffocating yourself with right now.

5:59pm.

one minute left.

you stand up from your bed and tidy the sheets and blanket before bolting softly over to your mirror to get one last fit check in. it looks good. so good.

you turn, just barely to get a side profile of your outfit

"get it together. you've liked him since the beginning of the year, c'mon." you whisper to yourself, your hands are trembling- it's the nerves, your anxiety. you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs as the seconds tick by.

the lump in your throat grows thicker when your mind flickers to him. you could only imagine the nerves he must be feeling right now. actually, was this even his first date?

maybe. just maybe, this wasn't his first date-

you're violently shaken from your thoughts when 3 reps of knocks hit your door.

he's here.

"open the door, you can't leave him out there." you mutter, forcing your feet to move before you decide to dive under your covers and fake your death.

you make it to the door, slowly. your hand hesitates on the door handle, still trembling, you grab the door handle harder before twisting it- it's cold under your fingertips, grounding you in the moment and greeting him.

your heart swells at the sight in front of you. gojo in all his glory, blacked rimmed glasses, those electric blue eyes and that white hair you wish you could run your fingers through.

yeah, you should've worn the spider-man pajama bottoms. gojo is in baggy spider-man pajama bottoms with the matching shirt to go along with it. you never noticed how thick his arms were before, he was always in that hoodie. were you checking him out right now?

gojo clears his throat softly. "happy valentines day."

you blink. you already feel the heat fighting its way into your cheeks.

"happy valentines day," you say with a soft smile, you step back to open the door further. "you can come in. welcome to my humble abode."

gojo lets out a sigh that sounded more like a disguised laugh before walking into your room. his cologne hits your nose before anything- the smell is intoxicating when you breathe it in. something woodsy and earthy.

he's here. standing in your room.

you quickly shut the door before turning back around to face him.

"here. uh-" gojo starts, handing you a heart shaped box of mixed chocolates. "i wasn't sure.. which chocolate you liked, so i got a variety."

you stare down at the heart-shaped box, heat crawling up your neck. “oh. . .uhm-” your words stumble out. “i-i’m allergic to cocoa beans, actually.”

gojo freezes in his stance, the box of chocolates getting squeezed under his fingers. his eyes go wide, then a small, nervous laugh escapes him. “wha- wait, really?”

you nod, cheeks flaming hotter than before. “y-yeah. . .i should’ve told you.”

for a second, there’s a pause- awkward, tense, and weirdly sweet. then, gojo’s grin returns, sheepish but genuine. “well. . .guess i’m officially the worst valentine’s gift-giver ever.”

you can’t help it- a small, nervous giggle escapes your lips. “not the worst. . .maybe just the most… thoughtful?”

he shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “thoughtful? yeah, i’ll take that. but next year. . .i’m doing research on your allergies first.”

next year? was he wanting to be with you again next valentines too?

before you let the thought take you under, your arm is shooting out. "we can sit on the bed, i'll pull out the movies i have. if none look interesting, we can stream one."

"do you have any marvel movies?" gojo starts moving to the bed, but not without placing the box of chocolates by the door. "you can never go wrong with marvel."

you heart picks up speed again as you crouch to look through your movie bin. "i have the spider-man movie," you hear the bed creak under his weight. "based on the pajama pants, i think you'd like it."

"spider-man is great," you can hear the smile in gojo's voice while you place the dvd into the disc player, double checking it for any scratches. "is spider-man okay with you?"

you nod quickly, a little too eagerly, as you grab the remote and hit play on the dvd player. "yeah, spider-man's perfect. i haven't watched it in forever." your voice comes out steadier than you feel, but your hands are still shaky as you climb onto the bed beside him, careful to leave a polite gap between your bodies.

the mattress dips under your weight, and you tuck your legs under you, pretending to focus on the opening credits rolling across the tv screen mounted on your wall.

gojo shifts a bit, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his spider-man pants riding up just enough to show a sliver of ankle. he's leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed casually over his chest, but you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his bicep- like he's nervous too.

"cool. I mean, it's a classic. peter parker's basically the king of awkward, so. . .fitting for us, right?"

you let out a soft laugh, glancing at him sideways. his blue eyes flicker to yours behind those glasses, and there's that tight-lipped smile again, the one that makes your stomach flip. "yeah, awkward solidarity."

the movie starts, filling the room with the familiar sounds of new york city chaos and web-slinging action. you try to relax, sinking back into the pillows, but every sense is hyper-aware of him.

the faint scent of his cologne mixes with the floral room freshener, and the bed feels smaller than it ever has. about ten minutes in, your phone buzzes on the nightstand-probably the pizza delivery app reminding you to order.

"oh, right. pizza," you say, reaching for it. "what do you like on yours? i'm good with anything, as long as it's not too spicy."

gojo tilts his head, thinking. "pepperoni and extra cheese? classic, like the movie." he grins, and you feel a spark of warmth at how easy this feels, despite the butterflies rioting in your gut.

you place the order- two mediums, just in case- and set a timer for delivery. as the movie plays on, you both comment here and there: him geeking out over the fight scenes, you laughing at peter's fumbling attempts at flirting.

it's comfortable, almost too comfortable, until about halfway through when a particularly intense scene has you both leaning forward. your hand brushes his accidentally as you reach for a pillow to hug against your chest.

"sorry," you murmur, pulling back quickly, but he doesn't move away. instead, his pinky finger hooks lightly around yours, tentative, like he's testing the waters.

"it's okay," he says softly, his voice lower than before. his eyes aren't on the screen anymore- they're on you. the room feels warmer, the movie fading into background noise as your heart hammers. "hey. . .can I ask something?"

you swallow, nodding. "yeah?"

he hesitates, his adam's apple bobbing. "this is. . .kinda my first date. like, ever. is it lame if i say i'm nervous?"

your breath catches. shoko was right- he's just as inexperienced as you. it eases something in your chest, knowing you weren't alone in your bundle of nerves- making the confession tumble out. "no, not lame. it's my first too. and. . .yeah, i'm nervous, too."

his eyes soften, that crooked smile returning. "good. i mean- not good you're nervous, but. . .makes me feel less like an idiot." he shifts closer, the gap between you closing until your thighs touch.

his hand fully entwines with yours now, warm and a little clammy. "you look really nice, by the way. in your pajamas. i mean, not that you don't always, but.."

you feel the heat rush to your face, but you manage a shy smile. "thanks. you do too. the spider-man look suits you."

he chuckles, but it's breathy, charged. the movie's forgotten now as he leans in, his free hand coming up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch lingers, thumb brushing your cheek. "can i. . .kiss you?"

your nod is immediate, whisper-soft. "y-yeah."

he closes the distance slowly, like he's afraid you'll vanish, his lips meeting yours in a tentative press. it's soft at first- awkward angles and hesitant pressure, but when you tilt your head, and it clicks.

his mouth moves against yours, warm and sweet, tasting faintly of mint. your hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart mirroring yours. he deepens the kiss, a small sigh escaping him as his fingers thread into your hair.

when you pull back for air, his glasses are slightly fogged, and you both laugh nervously. "that was. . .wow," he mutters, forehead resting against yours.

"yeah," you agree, breathless. the pizza delivery knocks at the door then, interrupting the moment before you can say anything else, jolting you both apart.

you scramble up to grab it, paying quickly before setting the boxes on your desk and grabbing your disposable plates, but food suddenly seems secondary as you return to the bed, the tension thicker now.

you eat propped up against the pillows, the movie still playing, but your eyes keep drifting to each other. halfway through your slices, he sets his down and turns to you fully. "i. . .don't want to rush anything, but being here with you. . .it feels right. right?"

your pulse races, shoko's words echoing in your mind, but this feels natural, not forced. "it is. i-i'm not opposed to anything." you whisper.

he kisses you again, more confident this time, guiding you back against the pillows. his hands roam tentatively- over your arms, your sides, down your thigh- until one slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare stomach.

you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls back, eyes searching yours. "is this alright?"

"yeah," you whisper, arching further into his touch. "it's okay"

he explores slowly, pushing your shirt up inch by inch, exposing skin to cool air and his warm gaze. when the fabric bunches under your arms, he pauses, waiting silently for your okay.

you nod, and he helps you tug it off completely, then your bra, his breath catching audibly as your breasts are bared.

"you're. . .beautiful," he breathes, almost reverent.

his hands hover for a second before he cups one gently, thumb brushing over the nipple. it pebbles instantly under his touch, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.

he leans down, kissing along your collarbone, then lower, until his lips close around the sensitive peak. his tongue flicks experimentally, and when you moan softly, threading fingers into his fluffy white hair, he grows bolder- sucking lightly, rolling the bud between his lips, switching to the other side with the same careful attention.

your back arches off the bed, hips shifting restlessly. heat pools low in your belly, slickness gathering between your thighs.

he notices, pulling back with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. "can i. . .go lower?" his voice is husky, unsure but eager.

"please," you breathe, your nerves suddenly not even a thought in your mind.

he kisses a slow trail down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel, making you giggle despite the tension. his fingers hook into the waistband of your sleep shorts and lace underwear, tugging them down together when you lift your hips to help.

he settles between your spread thighs, eyes wide as he takes you in.

"i've... never done this," he admits quietly, almost embarrassed. "but I want to make you feel good. tell me what you like."

"it's okay," you assure him, though your own nerves are buzzing. "just. . .go slow. and maybe start with kissing there first?"

he nods, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, working his mouth inward. his breath ghosts over your cunt making you shiver. then his tongue darts out- tentative, flat, licking a broad stripe from entrance to your clit.

you jolt at the sensation, a sharp gasp escaping making him freeze.

"too much?" he asks, voice muffled against your skin.

"no no- good. really good. just. . .focus on the top part. the little- " your words cut off into a whine as he obeys, tongue circling your clit experimentally.

he finds a rhythm quickly, lapping in soft, steady strokes, then sucking gently when your hips buck. one hand grips your thigh to hold you open, the other slides up to lace fingers with yours, squeezing when you moan his name.

"satoru-" you gasp, free hand tugging his hair harder. he hums in response, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

he experiments- flicking his tongue faster, then slow drags, pressing the flat of his tongue and letting you grind against it. your thighs start to tremble, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

"i- i'm close-" you manage, voice breaking.

he doesn't stop, doesn't pull away. instead he sucks harder, tongue working relentless circles until the coil snaps.

you come with a choked cry, back bowing off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as waves crash through you. he works you through it, gentling his touch only when you start to whimper from overstimulation, kissing softly up your mound, your stomach, until he's hovering over you again.

"that was. . .incredible," you pant, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you want him more.

he groans into your mouth, hips rocking instinctively against your thigh. you feel how hard he is through his pants- thick, insistent. your hand slides down, palming him through the fabric. He hisses, hips jerking.

"your turn?" you whisper against his lips.

he shakes his head, breathless. "only if you want. i don't have. . .protection, though."

you bite your lip, reaching over to the nightstand drawer. "shoko. . .insisted i keep some." you pull out a condom, tearing the packet with slightly trembling fingers. "she told me even the nerds and the shys have sex.. so"

his eyes widen, then soften with something like awe. "you're sure?"

"positive."

you help him out of his pants and boxers, breath catching at the sight- long and thick, flushed like dark cherries at the tip, already leaking. he watches you with wide eyes as you roll the condom down his length, your touch making him twitch and bite his lip hard.

he positions himself between your legs again, one hand braced beside your head, the other guiding himself to your entrance. he rubs the head along your folds, coating himself in your slick, both of you gasping at the contact.

"tell me to stop if it hurts," he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours.

you nod, hands on his shoulders. he pushes in slowly- inch by careful inch. the stretch burns at first, a deep pressure that makes you tense. he freezes immediately.

"you okay?" his voice is strained, every muscle locked to hold still.

"yeah- just. . .give me a second." you breathe through it, relaxing second by second. when the sting fades to a dull ache, you nod. "okay. move."

he exhales shakily and rocks forward, shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust. it's clumsy- his rhythm uneven, hips stuttering when you clench around him- but the friction builds heat quickly.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, low and wrecked.

"fuck- you feel. . .so good," he rasps, burying his face in your neck. his thrusts grow steadier, harder, the bed creaking under the motion. you meet him halfway, rolling your hips, nails dragging down his back.

"satoru- harder," you plead through moans and he obeys, snapping his hips with more force. "please"

the angle shifts, hitting that spongy spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. you cry out, and he angles there again, again, chasing the sound.

one hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy circles. the dual sensation is overwhelming- fullness, pressure, slick friction.

pleasure coiling tight again in your belly.

"i'm- gonna-" you gasp, walls fluttering around him and begging for release.

"come for me," he pleads, voice breaking. "please- i want to feel it."

you shatter again, harder this time, clenching rhythmically around him as you cry his name. He follows almost immediately- hips stuttering, a choked groan tearing from his throat as he spills into the condom, body trembling above you.

he collapses forward, careful not to crush you, both of you panting, sweat-slick and boneless.

after a long moment he pulls out gently, tying off the condom and tossing it into your mini can before gathering you against his chest.

"that was. . ." he starts, then laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "perfect. you're perfect."

you smile, curling into him, heart still racing. "happy valentine's, satoru."

"happy valentine's, pretty girl." he echoes, arms tightening around you like he never wants to let go.

the movie credits roll unnoticed in the background, the night stretching warm and quiet ahead of you both.

© dollhousesinner - please do not copy or feed to ai. ꒰taglist - or comment to be added꒱ nerd art by @/nekozuu_

first & only a/n: i adored doing this collab sm !- such a huge thank you to sixxels for asking me to join her & other amazing writers, i love you sm sweet girl ! and the connections i made throughout this have me smiling so big- always.

[yenayaps]

but i'm into it

pairing: boyfriend!sukuna x crazygf!reader

synopsis: sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. he’s calmer, less eager to fight. change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home that’ll tell you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row.

cw: toxic relationships, smut, rom-com(ish), sukuna is constantly fucking around and finding out, he likes where he's at tho, even when reader hits him with a car, oral (m receiving), mating press

notes: 5.6k w/c. commission for the lovely @plsstopsworld i hope u likey <3

Sukuna was convinced that you found joy in terrorizing him. 

Do not tell him that he could just simply leave, either— there’s no point. He’ll just go back to you in the end. He always does, that’s the unfortunate part of being in love with you. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’s his karma for all the crazy, borderline illegal shit he’s done. He was allowed love, but it came at a cost— a girlfriend who had the ability to make his heart race with fear. Sometimes it gets him hard, sometimes it doesn’t. He doesn’t have much control over it. 

He doesn’t have control over much, really. 

But like he said, he loves you. You are very lovely to be around most of the time, so it makes up for all of your less lovely qualities. It’s not like he has to deal with them much anyway, at least not since you’ve forbidden him from speaking in the first hour you’re awake. If you think about it, he has some control there since there’s always the option to poke the bear, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he chooses peace.

Sukuna likes to think that you’ve changed him for the better— his friends and family agree. He’s calmer, less eager to fight. The man who once thrived in chaos now looks forward to the small moments of stillness life has to offer, often he goes out seeking for it. He’s more patient, has more control over himself. 

Many people ask him how he did it, and he just shrugs. “Gettin’ old I guess,” he’ll sometimes tell people. 

Truth is, he’d rather die than admit that change comes easy when you have a girlfriend at home who tells you to shut the fuck up if you sneeze too many times in a row. He doesn’t need them thinking that’s another thing he’s not allowed to do. He is. You’ll even say bless you the first time he does it, you just get annoyed after the third one. It’s like Regina George and Satan had a baby when you’re annoyed, so he’s learned not to annoy you. 

Crazy definitely has a look to it, like the eyes or something, but not always. Sometimes you find out the hard way, like Sukuna did, who, at a very ignorant time in his life, didn’t want to do dishes. He thought reminding you of who pays the most in rent and utilities would get him out of it. Instead, he found out that you had a kill switch for the part of your brain that feels empathy. 

He slept on the couch that night, which was pointless because you committed to turning on the fire alarm every time he managed to fall asleep. Then he went out and bought a dishwasher the next morning, since he was going to be the one doing dishes for the next three months. He also had to buy a new set of dishes since there weren’t any to actually load the dishwasher with. You broke them all, save for the one you hurled at his head. You have great aim, by the way. He almost didn’t catch it. 

That wasn’t the end of his day, though. The flower shop was supposed to be his last stop, but then he remembered you said something about feeling sorry for his mother, and thank god for Jin because she would’ve gone through labor for nothing, and thank god for Jin again because every parent needs at least one kid to be proud of, so he went ahead and bought his mother some flowers, too. 

Then he finally went home. Getting the cold shoulder was expected and well deserved. So you could only imagine how unsettling it was when you smiled and welcomed him back home as if nothing ever happened. To this day, he doubts he needed to bring home any flowers.

It’d be nice to say that was the one and only time he’s ever fucked around and found out with you, but he’s not perfect. He still isn’t. The slip ups are rare, but they still happen, and he still never knows how you’ll react— sometimes it’s instant, you’ll blow up right then and there, then get over it an hour later. Other times it’s delayed, and you’ll shell out weeks' worth of time and effort purely for your entertainment.

Like when he got off work on a random Tuesday and spent half an hour walking around the parking garage, all pissed off because he couldn’t find his car. He thought some asshole stole it, filed a police report, and everything. Only to find out that you hid it in some random parking garage in some town a couple of hours away, and spent two entire months acting shocked about it despite shelling out $300 each month for the parking permit.

There was also the time he showed up to work on a Monday and learned that he had sent his boss a particularly nasty resignation email over the weekend. He got his job back, but it took a good amount of convincing since his boss didn’t believe that you’d do something like that. Sometimes he thinks about what would’ve happened if he couldn’t get his job back— you probably would’ve pushed him out of the house the very next day to look for a new one, since you refused to take on any more bills after that first fight.

He was convinced that was it. That your spite had reached its fullest potential when you fucked with his job, a.k.a both of your livelihoods, and it’ll surely make everything else after look like child’s play. He couldn't come up with anything worse than that, and it was a direct result of his limited creativity. There’s always room for improvement. You can alwaysbe worse.

You proved that when you hit him with his car. 

All he was trying to do was stop you from leaving after an argument, and chose not to believe that you’d hit him if he didn’t move. Why would he? It’s not like he cheated on you. He never lied to you. He thought you were only saying that because you wanted to make him feel bad for yelling at you— that wasn’t a good enough reason to hit someone with a car. Especially when he didn’t even curse! 

He had a little more faith in you than that. 

Let’s say you did try, it'd probably just be a small tap. Your love may be questionable at times, but it was there, and you don’t want to send the person you love flying across the street. You care about him. The most you’d do is take your foot off the brake so your car could give him a little warning bump.

Then the smell of burning rubber hits his nose. 

You stepped on the gas so god damn hard that the tires needed a second to gain traction. 

Sukuna is 6 '4, a whopping 250 lbs of pure muscle. The sound of his tires screeching into the air before taking off made his life flash before his eyes. Despite being worried for a moment there, he was physically fine.

Spiritually, however? Not very good. You made it a personal goal to knock the fucking Mario coins out of him and then watched him get up on his own right after, absolutely distraught and barking about how he couldn’t believe you just did that to him. 

He’s so pissed he doesn’t even realize you turned back around instead of leaving like you said you would.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHO DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s like this— so far past the point of shock that he’s outraged, yelling as if he wanted God to truly grasp how bad of a day he’s having. 

You’re still in the car, hand on the steering wheel, casually scanning over his burly frame for any bruising. “I told you to move three separate times.” 

“SO YOU TRIED TO MURDER ME? I COULD’VE FUCKING DIED.”

“I wasn’t trying to murder you, Sukuna.” The accusation sounds ridiculous when you repeat it. Sure, you would’ve understood and agreed if it had come from someone else, but not Sukuna. He’s practically bulletproof with how quick he can bounce back. You wouldn’t have hit him if he wasn’t. “You’re fine, aren't you?”

“THAT DOESN’T CHANGE THE FACT THAT YOU JUST HIT ME WITH MY OWN CAR, YOU FUCKING SLUT.”

“This wouldn’t be an issue if you had just moved.” It’s simple, but the way you laughed while saying it just made you sound cruel. You weren’t trying to make fun of him— you just don’t know what he expected after you told him exactlywhat would happen if he didn’t step aside. 

Sukuna should’ve taken his time getting back on his feet because you did not deserve reassurance in knowing what you did was technically okay. In fact, he shouldn’t have gotten up at all— you wouldn’t be laughing then if you had to watch him getting hauled off in an ambulance.

But no, he got nothing. No broken bones or fractures. No concussions, not even dizziness. Not even a scratch. He was alive and well, and that in itself only enabled your behavior. It pissed him off knowing there was nothing for you to see and feel guilt from as a result.

Instead, he received the complete opposite from you: Lust. 

You took one good look at him later that night in the living room and went from thinking “who cares, he’s fine,” to something fucking crazy and along the lines of, “holy shit, getting hit by a car is nothing for him.” You didn’t even apologize— you just went straight to talking to him like he was some random chick at the bar.

Sukuna naturally thought that getting hit by a car would be a one-time thing. But your sudden shift in perspective made him realize that there’s nothing stopping you from doing it again if you wanted— he was done for, yet it wouldn’t be much of a surprise coming from you.

“What about your ribs?” 

“Dunno. M’sure they’re fine.” 

Your hands were already bunching up the bottom of his t-shirt, and like an idiot, he was allowing it, raising his arms so you could strip him down and pretend to “look” for bruises. You could’ve tried a little harder. Instead, you’re shamelessly running your fingers down the lines of his abs with some unhinged and sexually explicit thought running through your head.

“Evil whore.”

“What?”

Well fuck. He didn’t mean to say that outloud. No use in backtracking now, though. 

“You heard me,” he grumbles, looking away. “Hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Oh no— never.” It’s not very convincing when you’re running your hand down his skin. “You sure you’re not in any pain?”

“Nope,” he boredly says. 

“Good.” You try not to smile at how butthurt he sounds. “....Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Nope.” He repeats himself.

“You sure? You seem kinda pent up.”

“Positive.”

“Mad maybe?” You hummed as your fingers reached his waistband, tracing along the elastic. 

He laughed in disbelief. “Now what could I possibly be mad about?”

The sarcasm easily slipped out. He was still pissed, rightfully so, throwing a miniature fit in the way he does best. By being condescending.

His laugh was met with a lighthearted shrug. “Well… at first I thought it was because I hit you. But I did tell you exactly what I’d do if you didn’t move, so I guess there is no reason to be mad.”

“Sure.” He continued to smile despite his tone flattening. “Even though you don’t actually need a reason to not hit someone.”

As if he wasn’t already annoyed, you decided to send him over the edge with a contemplative hum, as if it’d ever be up for debate. “I guess. A snake doesn’t need a reason to bite you either, but you still wouldn’t count on not getting bit because of some principle.”

He takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down his frustration. You are really testing him right now with that smart ass mouth of yours. “Yeah, but are you a wild animal?”

“Nope,” you smile, snapping the waistband of his boxer against his skin. “Wild animals don’t give you verbal warnings.”

“How kind of you,” he mutters, tone laced with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to remember that next time you threaten to hit me.”

“Smart. It probably won’t happen again, though.”

He deadpans and stares off into space for a moment over how bleak and underpromising you made the statement sound. “...You say probably as if you don’t have control over the vehicle?”

“I mean, I do… but—”

“There is no ‘but’, that’s a fact,” he stutters out of frustration as he begins to argue. “You put it in drive and smashed your foot on the gas pedal.”

“So you are mad?” Your lips purse together, innocently drawing circles over his stomach.

His brows pinch together, once again looking at you with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. No shit he’s fucking mad, can still smell the rubber burning off his tires. You laughed at him once, and it is still haunting him. “Wouldn’t you be mad?”

“I don’t stand in front of the cars, so I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, pretending to be blind to his bubbling frustration. 

He steps back and runs his hand down his face, fighting off the urge to gouge his eyes out. He knows exactly what you’re doing right now, and the answer’s no. You’re raigebaiting your way into getting dick. You don’t deserve it— plain and simple. There was no way in hell he was going to reward today’s behavior. 

“That’s not the point. You don’t hit people with cars just because you can.” You’re lucky he’s even letting you touch him right now— you should be in jail. He leans in and taps his temple, eyes zeroing in on you. “How is that not getting through your head— it’s fucking wrong.”

“I know it’s wrong, I never said it wasn’t.” You tap at your temple the same exact way he did, and spell the next words out nice and slow. “That’s why you should move so it doesn’t happen.”

“I’m your BOYFRIEND,” he finally snaps, forgetting that’s what got him in this predicament to begin with. “I TAKE CARE OF YOU AND YOU SENT ME FLYING ACROSS THE STREET GOD DAMN IT.”

He wasn’t sent flying across the street, the reason for that being directly tied to how heavy he is. Not that you tell him that, the idea of you being the reason behind that is already tearing him apart enough. He’s also most likely embarrassed at those 2 seconds his feet were off the ground. Those must’ve been the longest 2 seconds of his life, given how he doesn’t get his world rocked too often.

“Alright, fine. I’m sorry–”

“FOR?”

Definitely embarrassed. You find yourself having to keep yourself from looking annoyed at the thought of him dragging out as big of an apology as he can from you for the sake of his bruised ego. 

You close your eyes and sigh in preparation. “For thinking it was okay to hit you with a car when it shouldn’t even be a consideration in the first place.” His arms are crossed as he soaks up each and every word. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a mental list of points that needed to be brought up to make the apology valid. “It should’ve been off limits. You deserve to have peace in knowing our arguments won’t end with you getting struck down like a bowling pin.” 

His face drops as he watches you needing to look away to keep yourself from laughing. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” you clear your throat. 

“Tch– I don’t believe you anymore,” he grumbles. 

“No! I’m being serious,” you swear, grabbing his arm with both hands as you try to get him to look at you. “I really am sorry.”

He takes one look at you and feels nothing but reluctance. “And you’re never gonna pull that shit again, right?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head, knowing you don’t actually know the answer to that. It doesn't do much in terms of setting him straight— all it did was make him more dramatic, but it was satisfying. You can’t see it happening again in the foreseeable future, but you can see yourself randomly remembering how durable he is after you two have forgotten this incident, and doing it again. You place your hands on his chest as you part your lips to make a promise you don’t mind breaking. “That is not something you have to worry about from here on out.”

“Alright.” 

There’s a certain satisfaction missing from his tone when he mutters the word, and you realize it’s not just your imagination when he pulls his arm away from your hold to cross both of them against his chest. You’re not sure what more he could want, but the contemplative look on his face tells you he’s thinking about it right now. 

He got the apology he wanted and your word that you’ll never do it again, yet he can’t help but feel like it came too easily, and that you should’ve worked a little harder. He’s pushing his luck again, he knows, buuut maybe today’s one of the days where he can get away with that. Sukuna just doesn’t  exactly know what he wants. 

Did he want to grill you some more, get some revenge over the new (and traumatic) memory you gave him? Or did he want to rid himself of some of his pent up tension that you pointed out? Fuck, then that’d mean his punishment for you would end before you even knew about it. He wanted to see your face after being told no. 

Decisions, decisions. 

Well he could also have you—

“Kay’,” you break him out of his thoughts, the satisfaction missing in his tone is crystal clear in yours. “I’m gonna go wash my face now.”

Whoa, hold on a minute?! It’s only been a few seconds, you see him thinking. 

“No. Stay,” he murmurs. 

There was a part of him that was hesitant about that working— there was a chance you’d slap the shit out of him for ordering you around like a dog. Seeing you murmur a little ‘ok’ and actually staying was a pleasant surprise, and confirmation that he could push it a little today. The only thing missing was some sort of regret or guilt on your face. It’s more like you’re just listening to him because you figured he deserved it for once with how bored you look. 

Whatever. He’ll take what he can get. 

He sighs. “The apology was nice and all, but I think you’re gonna have to prove how sorry you are with this one.”

You look at him like he’s a clown and huff out a laugh. “You want me to prove how sorry I am?”

“Mhm. You don’t have to, though,” he shrugs, voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Just figured you’d like the option since it’s either that, or wait until I actually forgive you to get fucked.”

He nearly laughs at the way that instantly wipes the smile off your face. It’s not often he tells you no— it shows in the way you struggle to come up with an answer. Not because you're speechless, you’re just trying to figure out what can be said to change his mind. 

“So it’s either I beg for forgiveness or get punished because you can’t accept my apology?” You force out a small laugh, the regret that Sukuna’s been looking for finally peeking through in your voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You and me both, princess,” he says in amusement. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to beg when you’re trying to prove something. I wouldn’t call it a punishment either. It’s more like a boundary— had to set one with you since I don’t really like you right now.” 

You scoff as you watch him start to walk away. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Your failed attempt at guilting Sukuna pulls an airy, satisfied laugh out of him as he walks back to the bedroom. “The choice is yours, sweetheart. You know what to do if you decide to go with the first option.”

—

At first, you’re disgusted and refuse to prove how sorry you are. If he didn’t want to accept your original apology, then that was his problem. He can have fun fucking his fist for all you care. You looked at the bright side of things— you got to have a quiet evening since he decided to stay in the room the entire time, save for when he came out to eat dinner. 

He had the audacity to ask if he could have some of the food you cooked, but that’s how he found out you had decided to retaliate by giving him the silent treatment. It didn’t come as a surprise, nor did it make him question his decisions. If anything, he was quite pleased with how bothered you were. That just meant you’d reach a point where you’d fold and come to him. 

He just had to wait, guessing it’d take around 5-6 days until you grow tired of throwing a silent tantrum and start to miss him.

It took 2. 

Now you see why he doesn’t bother leaving? Dealing with you can be a nightmare sometimes, but that was only 10% of it. The rest of it was smothering him with affection, which you clearly love to do and miss if you’re sitting at the edge of the bed 2 days later. 

His back’s against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, looking a little too pleased to see you break your silence. 

“Missed me?”

“Please don’t tease me right now,” you murmur, clearly struggling with the defeat. 

“I’m not,” he hums, though the laugh he had to suppress said otherwise. “Anyways, what's up?”

You question your decision each time he opens his mouth. He’s making this so much harder than it should be right now and enjoying it way too much while he’s at it. 

You pick at your cuticles at the other end of the bed— the lack of eye contact you’ve made with him leads him to believe you’re more nervous than you let on. He’s wrong. It’s a little hard trying to mask your annoyance at the moment, and cowering in place does a decent job of hiding it.

“I thought about what you said.”

“Yeah?” The smug grin across his cheeks grows. 

“Yeah. I’m tired of fighting,” you look up and say, crossing a leg over the other. “I miss how we normally are.” 

“Me too,” he hums, already undressing you with his eyes because he’s a fucking pervert. “Glad it didn’t take too long either, missed hearing your voice.”

You nod, holding back a smile. “Not really sure what you’re looking for, though.”

“Nothing crazy,” he hums, the shrug he followed it with wasn’t too convincing. “All you gotta do is be nice to me— extra nice.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” he confirms, sinking back some more against the headboard. “You know how to be a good girl, I’ve seen it. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“No,” you softly say. 

“Let me see it then— come here,” he hums, curling his finger in to beckon you closer. You start to stand, but he stops you. “Crawl.”

And crawling, at least right now, doesn’t feel very degrading. It’s the way he looks at you when you do, you’ve never wanted to smack him more. Once you’re kneeling beside him, he reaches over and slowly runs the back of his finger across your jaw. 

“So you miss how we normally are, huh?” The broad question gets a nod from you, already knowing where he was going with this. “You’re normally pretty touchy— you miss that, too? Getting to touch me whenever you want?”

“Mhm.” 

His finger traces down the side of your neck and across your shoulder, making your breath catch. 

“Bet you miss having your mouth on me too, huh?”

You give a soft smile when his hand traces back up, cupping your cheek. “Yeah.”

“Think I might just miss that more,” he slips his thumb into your mouth, lightly pressing down on your tongue. “You know how much I love stuffing my cock in here.”

You still out of surprise. That’s what he wanted? Head? What an idiot, he could’ve just said that instead of making it seem like getting his forgiveness was some sinister task.

“Is that what you want?” you ask when his thumb pulls back.

“Mhm,” he smiles. “Look at you. I didn’t even have to ask.”

He continued to be stubborn, making you be the one to pull his sweatpants down by his waistband. You didn’t mind all that much. He may be a little shit, but it’s easy to wave it off when you're freeing his cock from his boxers. Just looking at it, how long and thick it is, sends heat in between your legs. Littered with thick veins, big red tip already smeared with precum, throbbing, begging for attention.

“Spit on it, get it all wet,” he murmurs, lids lowering at the sight of the thick string of saliva falling from your lips and landing on the thick head of his cock. “Yeahh— you know what I like.”

The sight’s filthy from the start when it’s just him telling you to spit on it some more, and more, and more. The entire time, there’s a slight pinch in his brow as he spreads it all from base to tip in a way that was slow and controlled, and hard to ignore. By the time the wet sounds of him stroking his cock could be heard, you were desperately squeezing your thighs together. 

Watching his hand slow to a stop was a shame at first, but what followed took over your mind completely. 

“Stick that tongue out for me— yeah that’s it, let me see it,” he murmurs, cock throbbing in his grip as he starts to tap the heavy tip of it against your tongue, hearing the weight of it behind each one. “Ready to put this pretty little mouth to work?”

“Yeah,” you murmur all sweetly, already in a daze. 

“Good,” he chuckles. “Swirl your tongue around it.” 

He watches you lean forward and do just that. Biting the bottom of his lip as you slowly drag your tongue all around his swollen head, salty remnants of precum hitting your taste buds with each flick and drag. Sukuna groans, abs tensing at your fingers digging into his thighs. 

“Fuuck yeah.” He moves some of your hair out of the way to get a better look. “Suck on it for me, the tip— shit, just like that.” 

As much as he loved the idea of making you beg, you really won’t ever have to. Watching you hollow your cheeks and pull away with a wet pop was enough. He rubs on the back of your neck as you do it again. “Feels fuckin good when you do that— so sweet with it, too.”

A soft hum passes through your lips, pulling back with another pop. He had plans to drag this out, but grows impatient at the sight of your glossy lips and the string of saliva connecting them to his head. His hand slightly tightens on the back of your neck and pushes you in closer, rubbing his tip over your lips. 

“Open up,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as he watches your lips part. “Go deeper. Show me how sorry you are.” 

You feel both his hands go to the back of your head as you wrap your lips around his tip, gently bobbing your head as you inch further and further down his length, beginning to breathe through your nose the deeper you go. 

His grip tightens as he starts hitting the back of your throat, throwing his head back with a gravelly, drawn out groan. For a minute, it felt like there was something missing, only for his ears to perk up just moments later when your nose hits his base with a small gag. 

“There you go,” he huffs out a condescending laugh. At first he thinks to tell you to keep gagging on it, but then he has a better idea. “Open wide, princess. Gonna stretch this throat out.” 

You pull up for air, revealing your teary eyes and wet lashes as you take a moment to breathe, and Sukuna thinks to himself how he’s never seen anyone so beautiful. Kinda like a Ursula in her human form type of beauty, given how much of a monster you are. Just cruel and evil. 

He grins and pushes your head back down. 

“Mmm, that’s it— relax it for me,” he says with a low rasp. “Gonna fuck this tight little throat of yours.” 

Holding your head in place, he starts snapping his hips up, stuffing his fat cock down your throat with each thrust. Obscene slurping sounds mixed in with some of your moans fill the air as drool poured out of your mouth, making a mess around the base of his cock, earning his nasty praise. “Look at the mess you're making, you love this, huh? Such a good girl with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Keep it up and I might just stuff your pussy next.”

You make a sound, and it’s almost hopeful, as if you were asking, “Really?” 

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” He thrusts up harder, enjoying the fact that you physically can’t talk right now. “Shit— m’gonna cum,” he murmurs through ragged breaths. “Look at you, did so good and now you get to have your throat filled.”

A low groan vibrates through his chest, swallowing thickly as he picks up the pace. Your nails dig into his thighs, hardly able to keep up and nearly drawing blood once you feel warm, thick spurts of cum begin to coat the back of your throat. 

You’d think he’d be more spent with how hard he fucked your throat, but nope. The cocky, blissful sigh that slipped through his lips as you tried to get yourself together was all you needed to know. 

He’s not the best when it comes to staying mad, at least with you. It’s pretty clear by now that this entire thing was just a ploy to make him feel more wanted, because he’s annoying. And pathetic. 

Not that you get much time to simmer on the thought. It’s like you blink and suddenly you’re on your back, folded in half underneath him. Knees pinned to your chest, ankles up to your ears. Mentally, he’s gone. Too focused on rubbing the fat head of his cock against your hole, spreading your slick up and down your folds. Slow and intentional, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold.  

That’s about the last of his patience, because seconds later, he’s bottoming out and you’re gasping from the sudden fullness. 

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans through a clenched jaw. His hips draw back, only pulling out halfway through before shoving himself back in with a resounding squelch. “Soaked, too. Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-yeah,” is all you could get out with all the weight he’s putting on you, keeping you locked down in the world’s meanest mating press. 

“Two days is all this slutty pussy could take, huh?” He barely suppresses a laugh as he snaps his hips forward again, pulling another gasped moan out of you. “Better not start crying about how it’s too much then.”  

It’s always too much, but this time he fucks you in a way where you can’t even get the words out. He just has you in straight up tears while he spends the next hour drilling into your sweet spot as if it were your punishment for making his life a living hell every few months. 

While you spent your two days annoyed with him, he spent his saving enough energy to be able to pull back to back orgasms out of you like it was nothing. Going as far as taunting you when he felt you starting to tighten around his cock again, and then laughing after making you squirt once more after god knows how many times, talking about how, “that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Fuck him.

You clearly didn’t hate him that much, though. Yeah, you did go radio silent a couple of times, and there may have been a moment where you truly thought you were going to pass out, but that didn’t stop you from begging him to cum inside of you in the end. 

He may have also teased you at first, asking if you deserved it, forgetting his place for a moment there. 

But you always get what you want. 

Even in the end, when you’re cuddling, and he’s murmuring sweet words into your ear, not knowing what the hell he’s even talking about when he says how much of a sweet girl you are and how you were his sweet girl.

Sukuna gets nothing but a curt “shh” in response. 

“What?” he snorts, still in a lovesick mood. 

There's a smile when you sigh. “The sound of your voice is ruining it right now for me, baby. I need you to be quiet or get lost.” 

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

[epicderpface]

\( ᐖ)/ Gojo “We Don’t Need A Condom” Satoru.

“Do you want blue-eyed babies running rampant across Tokyo Tech for the next five years or do you have even a sliver of control?”

Gojo outwardly smirks at your miffed state, massive hands splayed over your supple thighs on the counter of the staff kitchen, the flushed tip of his pale cock brushing through your silky folds teasingly. It seems that your body is giving away just how much you need him, too. “Impeccable timing, sweetheart, because today’s our lucky day. I’ve got the perfect solution for us,” he purrs, and you aren’t all that thrilled knowing the sort of mischief he tangos with.

But you give in anyway. Because he’s Gojo Satoru.

His lips latch onto the column of your throat, and it isn’t long until you feel him pressing into your pulsing entrance, slathered in your leaking arousal.

But something’s off.

“G-Gojo…? What is that?” You quiz with a whine, head tossed back as he laps at your jawline, right where he knows you’re sensitive after years of working by his side and fucking you in his apartment to watch you come undone time after time.

“Little trick I came up w-with, jerking off to those sexy little pictures you sent when I was on that mission in Hokkaido,” he grunts out, thumbs digging bruises into the plush of your thighs as he buries himself to the hilt. “You know how much I can’t work through a quickie with a rubber.” The pout that hangs off his lower lip is all theatrics—the man just likes going at it raw.

You squirm, legs trembling, walls fluttering around his massive size. And then it clicks, because you know Gojo Satoru, and his pullout game is tragically weak.

“There’s no way…”

“Yes way.”

He cups a hand over your mouth as he starts rutting into you, your whines muffled lest some poor employee makes their way into the room, your skull knocking into the cabinet behind your head.

Your eyes are rolling back into their sockets as you piece together that Gojo is using his Infinity around his dick.

A makeshift condom of sorts.

The prominent lines bulging down his length drag against your gummy walls, his technique rounded out so thin and so precise that in a cockdrunk state, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed he had it activated.

But right now, you feel him everywhere.

“C’mon,” he bites down on your collarbone, the low timbre of his tone sending sparks darting up your spine. “Beg me to fill you up raw.”

His vulgar words punch a whimper from you, your legs ensnaring his tapered waist while you clench around him involuntarily. You can’t get a sound out, muffled whines sounding against his soft palm.

Moments later, when the lights above you fade and flicker as his orgasm careens into him and stars bloom behind your eyelids, does he spill inside of you.

But not really inside of you. Just inside of the infinite barrier he managed to keep up after he came.

Once he catches his breath, he pulls out, a thick layer of seed around his cock and held tight against it with his technique.

You hold back a snicker as he fumbles around with his shaft.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he muttered, mostly to himself as he waddles around the room.

And of course, when your situation couldn’t get any weirder, does Ijichi push his way into the staff lounge—spluttering apologies with flushed cheeks, trying to avert his gaze from your hiked up pencil skirt and Gojo’s dick on the verge of leaking onto the linoleum floors.

© this work is a repost, not stolen. do not plagiarize, translate, or feed my writing to ai. all writing belongs to me, and all characters belong to gege akutami.

[owwllly]

gambling date with kirara

[mimuju-deactivated20260521]

you love bulking season w/ trueform!sukuna ! ೀ

the first sign is the food.

sukuna has always been a glutton, a connoisseur of excess. but the sheer volume changes. the carcasses he drags back to his shrine are larger, the haunches of meat more substantial. he roasts whole boars over the open flame in the central hall, tearing into them with a gusto that seems… amplified. the bones he cracks between his teeth sound thicker.

then, it’s the space he occupies. 

his true form has always been massive, a monument of cursed power and arrogance. but you notice he has to duck lower when passing through certain archways. the width of his shoulders seems to strain against the confines of his usual loose robes. 

when he lounges on his throne of skulls and bones, the structure groans under a new, denser weight. his four arms, always corded with impossible muscle, now look like they were carved from granite by a vengeful god, each vein a river map of pure power.

he catches you watching him one evening as he finishes the last of a roasted aurochs, licking grease from his fingers. a slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face.

“see something you like, trouble?” he rumbles, his voice like grinding stones.

“no, i'm noticing that you’ve been… indulging,” you remark, walking closer. the heat radiating from him is more intense, a physical wall.

“strength requires fuel,” he says simply, reaching out one massive hand. he doesn’t grab you; he simply places his palm against your stomach, and his fingers nearly span your entire torso. “and i find myself craving more strength lately.”

the implication hangs in the smoky air. it’s not for battle. it’s for something else entirely.

that night, in the shadowed recesses of his inner chamber, he confirms it. he pins you to the furs with two hands, while another traces the line of your jaw. “what else have you noticed, huh?” he asks, his voice a low vibration you feel in your bones.

“you’re bigger,” you state, meeting his crimson gaze without fear. his equal. his match. “and stronger, i'm assuming. unless those muscles of yours are decor?”

his grin is all sharp teeth and wicked promise. “observant.” 

one of his lower hands slides down your body, pushing your clothes aside with rough, impatient tugs. his touch is familiar in its ownership, but the scale of it is new. when his fingers— two of them—press against your entrance, you gasp.

they’re thicker. significantly so. not just longer, but broader, the pads of his fingertips calloused and demanding. he works them into you with a ruthless, focused patience, stretching you with an immediacy that steals your breath.

“nngh— fuck, ryo! t-too much—” you choke out, arching into the intrusion.

“is that a complaint?” he purrs, leaning down to lick a stripe up your throat. he crooks those enormous fingers inside you, finding a spot that makes your vision blur, and you cry out—a sharp, punched whine.

“n-no, i'ts not.” you manage to retort, biting back the next moan as he adds a third finger.

the stretch borders on painful, a glorious, burning fullness that makes you see white. he scissors them, pumping slowly, and the wet, slick sound is obscenely loud. 

“haaah— ah, ah! s-sukuna!— so big—” you sob, your hips rocking helplessly against his hand.

he laughs, the sound dark and pleased. “you looove this, don’t you?” he twists his wrist, curling his fingers, and you scream, your body bowing off the furs. “this is just my hand. imagine what comes next.”

he prepares you until you’re a writhing, babbling mess, until you’re chanting his name between ragged gasps and clenching around the brutal girth of his fingers. only then does he withdraw, slicking himself with your arousal. 

he aligns himself, the broad, flushed head of his cock pressing against your folds. the difference is staggering. it’s not just length; it’s a thick, veined weight that promises devastation.

he pushes in.

"g-god! sukuna— i- shit, i can't! s'too— too good!"

it’s an invasion in the truest sense. your body yields, stretched impossibly wide, a slow, burning, exquisite surrender. a broken, continuous moan is torn from your lips as he sheathes himself to the hilt with a controlled, relentless push. 

when he’s fully seated, you are full to the point of bursting, every nerve ending screaming. the feeling of being utterly occupied, claimed by this new, augmented scale of him, is dizzying.

“fuuuuck,” he groans, the word a long, drawn-out rumble of pure satisfaction. all four of his hands braced around you, his head thrown back, the tendons in his neck standing out. “you take me… nngh… you take all of me. perfect. you're perfect.”

he begins to move, and it’s unlike anything before. aach withdrawal is a loss that makes you whimper, each thrust a breathtaking reclaiming that steals the air from your lungs. 

the drag is thicker, slower, more intense. each drive punctuated by a grunt from him and a choked cry from you. he fucks you with the full, devastating weight of his bulked form, the bed of furs and pelts beneath you compacting under the force. his pace is not frantic; it is deliberate, powerful, each drive meant to be felt in your soul.

one of his upper hands fists in your hair, tilting your head back to meet his hungry gaze. “you are the only one,” he snarls, sweat beading on his brow, his breaths coming in heavy gusts. “the only one i— shit— the only one i need, the only one i l-love— .”

his words are as possessive as his thrusts. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him force for force. “you're s-so deeppp!” you gasp, the claim torn from you. 

his eyes flash with feral delight. “am i?” he mocks, one of his palms coming up to press on the bulge on your stomach from his cock, earning a whine from your lips. his rhythm becomes punishing, a deep, piston-like drive that shakes the very platform you lie on. 

the sound of skin impacting skin is louder, wetter. you can feel every ridge, every pulse of him inside you. the coil he wound with his fingers snaps.

you come with a shattered, screaming wail, your body clamping down around the impossible thickness of him in wave after convulsing wave. ”sukunaaaa!” the sensation triggers his own release. 

he roars, a raw, guttural sound of pure, triumphant conquest and pours into you, hot and endless, his hips grinding in deep, circular pumps as he empties himself, claiming you anew with this latest evolution of his power. ”haah— hnngh… fuck, take it. such a good girl.” he grunts through the final pulses.

he collapses atop you, his greater weight an exhilarating, crushing comfort. you are buried, pinned, completely encompassed by him, both of you slick with sweat and breathing in ragged, syncopated gasps. 

after several minutes, he shifts just enough to prop himself on two elbows, looking down at you with smug, sated satisfaction.

“well?” he asks, his voice hoarse, tracing your swollen lips with a thumb. “your final assessment?”

breathless, thoroughly ruined and remade, you meet his gaze. “adequate,” you whisper, a faint smile on your lips. “you may continue to bulk.”

his laughter is a deep, rolling thunder that fills the chamber, and you feel it vibrate through every part of you, a resonance you know you will crave forever.

-

tags - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings @grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless @sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair@ex1acy @palanggaaa @yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi @heliumshorns @laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @sweethearticism @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl 

[madamechrissy]

mdni 18+ - doctor! Gojo (ob/gyn) x fem! reader

gyno! Gojo getting distracted by his patient's coochie (you) inappropriate workplace behavior, breaking oaths, they're awkward lol, fingering, orgasms, spitting, talking you through it, nerdjo, he's shy even knuckles deep inside you <3 (3k)

"Are you comfortable?" Doctor Gojo asks with a friendly smile, washing his hands and looking over his shoulder at you.

Are you comfortable when you're in nothing but an open hospital gown and your feet are in stirrups!? In front of the most gorgeous man you've ever seen!?

No, you're not. You're flustered and embarrassed despite his calm demeanor and how he does everything with ease. You bite down on your lower lip, clutching the little sheet thrown over your lap, nodding.

He dries his hands that you can't help but look at a little too long. Elegant fingers, thick ones that make you blush thinking of going inside you. It's got you swallowing nervously. Trying to remember it's a check up not a damn date.

He's just doing his job, slipping you a little smile, blue eyes glimmering in a myriad of shades. "Latex allergy sweetheart?"

"Huh?" How long are his fingers!?

"Do you have an allergy to latex?" You flush again, shaking your head. "Perfect."

Doctor Gojo sits in front of you, slipping on those gloves and then putting a comforting hand on your thigh. You fucking moan.

You moan.

This is so embarrassing!?

"Sorry," you whisper, shutting your eyes.

"Is it the cramps? I saw you were having some issues with that," he asks softly, white hair falling just a bit over his brow.

"Um. Yes." You have been cramping alot, but this was definitely not that. You try to remember why you're here, looking at him again, almost unable to handle the eye contact. "Really bad ones before my period."

"Scans were all good," he lifts your sheet up and pauses just a moment, eyeing your cunt in what he attempts to do professionally. Yet he can't help but almost spill out how pretty it is, that would not be okay to say, even if he is an expert. "Everything looks great actually."

Yiur thighs clamp shut. He raises a brow. "Sorry!"

"Relax," he gently helps you spread your thighs, blushing himself when he sees you're glistening already. He can't mention it of course but it's dripping between your lips. "Have you had an exam?"

"Of course, just... um... nervous." He hums a bit to himself, parting your folds with soft gloves, you almost moan again, biting down hard. He looks up at you, leaning down just a bit, far too close to your cunt.

You're suddenly so insecure! What if it looks weird to him!? What if he can freaking inhale it, does it smell good? You washed it before coming but what if-

"Take a breath," he murmurs, inspecting your insides and almost whimpering when he sees your hole fucking wink at him. "You're tense, and it'll hurt if you're this tight."

Fuck.

Dr. Gojo just called a patient tight.

"I mean... tight muscles," he's stammering for a moment, you're just too pretty and now you have him nervous. "That's good though, are you um... doing kegals."

You blink.

"Yes? Can you just... tell?" He sighs, trying to remember why the fuck you're here, slipping a finger inside to just the tip, and you clench him over the glove, soaking it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yes your muscle response is impeccable," he wants to feel it clenching his tongue, gather all those juices and suck them off his fingers. "Try to relax because for this exam I have to get two fingers inside you. "You're small down there."

"Oh of course," you want to fall off the face of the earth when he pulls his finger back. You feel slippery arousal pouring down your slit, his soft sigh tickling your thigh. "Did you already put that gel stuff on?"

"No," you blush again, so hot your cheeks are on fire, realizing that's all you. "I can but you seem to have a good amount of... natural lubricant."

You're gonna die.

"Want me to grab the cold gel?" He teases, plump lips curling up, you almost ask him to spit on it, but you manage some sense.

"No, it's okay, I trust you," you shouldn't, not when he leans down and spits right on his fingers and watches his own spit move on puffy lips.

He can't do that he's a fucking doctor. How many pussies has he seen!? But the thrill of knowing it's on you had his cock throbbing underneath those purple scrubs, he covers it with his labcoat, watching the bubbles dissolve on your glistening cunt.

"How do you usually loosen up? Don't want to hurt you." You shut your eyes, spreading your thighs more for him.

"Like how do I..."

"You can feel comfortable with me, we need to find out what's making you cramp up too."

"I tense really bad before sex too, it doesn't feel the best."

"Oh..." Satoru eases a finger inside again, curving it up and watching you jerk. "When is the last time you had sex?"

"Like a year or two, I just use my rose - Oh my god!" You cover your face again, eyes rolling back when he crooks those fingers. "Mmh!"

"Don't be shy, masturbation is normal and healthy even. Orgasms are good for you," Dr. Gojo pulls his finger out to watch you drop down onto the thin paper you're laying on, exhaling against the sight. "Clitoral stimulation helps you?"

You nod, gasping when he slips a finger and finds it, the sounds of your wet cunt echoing in the room. "Yes, it does."

"Is it all right if I stimulate it to loosen you up? If not tell me."

You arch your hips, lashes fluttering, it takes a lot for Gojo not to yank off his gloves and fuck into you. "Yes um if you think it'll help?"

"It might," he runs a circle and watches that clit twitch against his thumb, more slick pouring from you. "You do respond well to it. Did your partners do this?"

"No they sucked," Satoru chuckles a bit, and the mood lightens, he acts perfectly professional while he's pressing on your clit, pleasure rushing through you. "That is relaxing."

"I want my patient comfortable," he murmurs, he shouldn't be allowed to look like that and sound like that. Your cunt is spasming when he slips his finger back in, the messy sounds so loud you bury your face. "It's a good thing, when your natural lubricant flows. It means your hormones are doing a good job."

"Oh," Satoru crooks his finger up, eyeing you under snowy lashes then, your breasts rising and falling, thighs trembling. "I do feel um... more... relaxed."

"That's good. You're doing such a good job for me," you're done for, his finger hitting that spot in slick walls, thumb still massaging your jumping clit. "Orgasms can help cramps too, even during your period."

"I can't um touch it during that," You're arching for more, thighs spread so wide, hands damn near ripping the paper underneath you, it tears just a bit and echoes in his impeccably clean office.

"That's understandable but your partner could," you laugh a little.

"None of them would have fucked me on my period - I mean!? Um, stimulated me."

"Some people are squeamish," he starts to ease two inside, you're trembling at the stretch. "It's natural, periods. And it's normal to get cramps, we just have to find a good way to help them."

"I see, ngh!" He pauses at your little moan, juices flowing down his fingers, tall body hunched just a bit over you. "Oh my god I'm so sorry."

"It’s too much for you, sweetheart? Two?"

You nod just a bit, and he sighs, pulling back his hand then.

"You're too tight, that could be why you don't find sex so enjoyable if you're not getting off first - I mean, having orgasms before intercourse."

"That could be um, I'll loosen up so you can do the exam," you hear his glove smack then.

"It may help if I don't wear a glove, are you okay with that? It may help your nerves."

Satoru needs to feel your gummy walls without a dumb fucking barrier. You're blinking at him, seeing him take one off, then the other.

"My hands are sterile," he tries to hide his feral grin, knowing he's fucking depraved for this, but his cock is just leaking too much. "I'll try and you tell me what you prefer."

"Yes, of course," Satoru's fingers brush down your slit into your hole, sinking in - slippery from you, buried to the knuckle suddenly. It feels so good you can't hold back your little whimper, hips bucking up. You feel every line and callous of his thick fingers, cunt gripping him like she's scared he'll leave. "Oh!"

Satoru's cock leaks at the sight of your pussy sucking his fingers in like that, the sight of it so greedy, stretched around his bare hand is too much. His fingers pull back and then insert again, and again, a messy squelch echoing in the room, gossamer swirls of your arousal coating his fingers.

Fuck he's going against every oath he took and looking for more to break.

Is eating out patients not a good method of exam? Surely your taste -

He can't do all that! He shouldn't even be fingering your messy cunt like this, pads of them curving up in that spot that makes you twitch and gush. Your cheeks are flush, eyes rolling back, hips just rolling when he runs a thumb over your clit once more.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," you barely focus, stretched so full and stuffed more from him than you had been any man. Your lashes flutter at his command, he leans down just a bit as he works you. "There you go, you're loosening up for me. Does it feel good like this?"

Are you having a filthy daydream of the pretty blue eyed doctor, or is he talking you through an orgasm?

"I... um... y-yes," your whisper escapes your lips with a sigh, Doctor Gojo's expert fingers curling up with precision, feeling you spasm and tighten, slick and hot around his digits. You're pulsing already, making him have to palm himself to adjust, before darting his thumb back to your clit. "Mnh... Doctor Gojo, I..."

"Your muscles are responding so well," fuck is everything sexy from his mouth? You're trying not to cum, but failing spectacularly, a dripping wet mess soaking his bare hand, the sounds of his fingers and your needy cunt loud. "Your pussy- I mean, um!? Vagina/vulva ah it's very um... pretty - healthy!?"

Satoru Gojo's glasses fog up just a bit, sweat beading on his brow, he doesn't know what's come over him - but he knows he needs you to cum for him, and he's not stopping until you do. Do you squirt, do you drip, do you get creamy?

Fuck he must know - for scientific purposes, that's why he's a doctor, right? Love of science and medicine?

How many oaths would it break if he were to breed his patient?

"I'm... your fingers ngh they're thick and - I mean!? Thorough! They're so thorough," you're rolling your hips up for every filthy thrust, Satoru leans low and practically inhales you, you feel something wet slap your clit, his eyes feral and black then behind lenses. "F-fuck... I mean!?"

"S'okay, we're - hah - helping the cramps, r-right?" He's scissoring his long fucking fingers in and out of your now sloppy little cunt, your nails press into his forearms, just making him moan softly.

"Yes, helping them, mhm," your eyes roll back in your skull, nails digging in his pale skin and leaving cresenct marks, the sweet scent of your arousal filling his senses, overtaking the sterile alcohol in the room. God if he could bottle your pussy juice he would. "You're s-such an amazing um... d-doctor!"

"Thank you, I t-take my... career... so seriously," he's about to bust in his pants, damn near acting as if he's never seen a pussy before yours, but he's not ever been affected. You're pulsing and tightening down then, clamping his fingers and sucking them inside, teeth clenched. "Remember, eyes on me, sweetheart. For... medical reasons."

Your eyes focus on his, he crooks those fingers up one more time, a mess pouring as he does, and he watches his pretty patient cum on his fingers. You're so loud he has to pull up, slamming a big palm on your cute lips, muffling your desperate cries as he shoves them in fully, heel of his hand massaging your needy clit.

"Mmph!" You're blacking out nearly, hardly able to keep that eye contact, with the doctor whose glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, his lips spit slicked. You're gushing down his fingers, louder and louder as he eases them in and out slower, pushing you over the edge again.

"Fuck," he murmurs, cursing at his lack of professionality, leaning back to see just how you cum. "Creamy, fuck."

"H-huh?" Your voice is still muffled, he moans, looking and the milky ring formed at the bottom of his fingers, he almost sinks to his knees with you still in that fucking hospital gown, instead gently easing them out, watching your hole twitch as he spreads your lips.

"Your response to stimulation, it's scientific you see - creaming or squirting."

"Oh, it is?" He feels himself pressing hard against his boxers, leaking through and leaving a wet spot in his scrubs, blush furiously smattered on his cheeks. "Which is better?"

Anything you do.

"They're both healthy responses," he wants to suck his goddamn fingers so badly, but he has already crossed every fucking line known to man, so instead he hovers a moment, wanting to ask about you. who are you, are you single - it says yes on your chart sure, but still. What do you like? Do you play video games?

He's imagining a date right now - him, Doctor Gojo, a man who's all about his business can't stop getting flustered from your pretty little pussy that's leaking your cum still. He turns then, unsure of what to say, as your thighs tremble, your breath quickening.

You feel so embarrased! You're thinking he wanted you to cum, what if he was just... like helping? Examining? You've never even really been to a gyno before! You hastily put a sheet on, looking down nervously as he stands there, fingers still in your slick.

"I'm so sorry!"

"What!? Why? Did you um... enjoy the exam?" He asks, you nod shyly, he is so close to busting he has to do something. "I'll be right back with your uh... results, just hold on, okay?"

He rushes to the bathroom, leaning back and shutting the heavy door, sucking your juices off his fingers and moaning, using his other hand to free his aching cock. God it's hard, sticking to his boxers, he has to tug it free and slowly stroke it, moaning softly.

"Go ask her out," he whispers to himself, with every stroke of his hand, every glide around the thickness he almost stuffed inside you on that patient bed. He can't with himself, what is going on, he's never like this!?

God your taste.

"Maybe we could hah go to a movie?" He practices in the mirror, seeing his disheveled appearance, cock loud with every fwap as he jerks it quickly, trying to finish before he looks more suspicious. He whimpers your name and flutters his eyes shut, picturing your cunt grippin' his cock like a vice, moaning as he cums.

White spurts everywhere, all over his hands, all over the sink, he curses with a shaky breath, cleaning it frantically when he rushes back out, and you're all dressed, holding your purse. He falters, suddenly shy as you tuck your hair behind your ear, the taste of your cunt still coating his tongue.

"I ah... think your cramps could be a lot of tension," he manages to say softly. "And elevated hormones, just a bit too much estrogen, but not enough for concern."

"Thank you so much, um, what should I do for them?"

"Warm compress, a hot bath, ibuprofen," his dick, his mouth, his fingers, god use him. "All of that should help a long with..."

"Orgasms?"

"Y-yes, they can help," you rush off suddenly then, and Gojo curses, pacing back and forth in his office.

God why couldn't he ask you out!? After he sucked your cum off his fingers no less?

Suddenly, Satoru has quite an idea - his fucked out brain thinks so, at least. He sits at his little desk and pulls up his laptop, starting to type notes into your patient portal, smirking as he does. He's sure you're the type to check them, so he wonders if you'll get the code here.

***Patient comes in with an exceptionally tight set of muscles, and was having some trouble with cramping, as well as pain during sex. She was a good girl for me beautiful example of a patient, her responses were so good, she listened to all instructions from the doctor. Her cunt vagina was a pretty shape, color, and had a lovely taste consistency.***

Satoru grins, inserting his phone number throughout the message in little places, heart racing.

God he wonders if you like Digimon or Pokemon? He could handle either, if it meant being with you.

***The patient should come back for more visits to work on relaxing her stupidly tight vagina, she took well to treatment, she should cum come more often to make sure she's comfortable and resolves any cramps in the future. Patient should contact me with any questions are you free on friday? or concerns.***

He's sure you never saw the damn notes when a week goes by, when he gets a call, answering it in the middle of lunch. "Gojo speaking."

"Um... hi... it's..."

"Oh my god!? Hi!" He almost knocks his coffee over, so fucking excited he's grinning, he can't see your nervous blush on the other line, chewing your thumb and taking shaky breaths. "How are you?'

"I'm good, I am uh... maybe insane but, would you like to go out-"

"Yes."

You blink then. "Um, I didn't say where?"

"Anywhere." You giggle, and he throbs from that, sighing and shutting his eyes. "I'll take you anywhere."

"All right, Doctor Gojo I'll send you where to pick me up," you hang up shakily, and Gojo makes quite a loud shout that the entire office hears.

"Back to work, ahem." He says, stepping out, but he cannot keep the smile off his face.

Perverted and cute???? bahaha this was a Patreon idea actually those chats get a little insaneee

[tojipie]

I Can Be Fun - Series Masterlist

synopsis: frat!kuna x virgin reader. senior year of college presents you with two fates: to lose your virginity by graduation, and to finally learn why the campus frat legend won't stop staring at you in class.

a/n: after receiving a lot of requests for more chapters I've decided to make my frat!kuna fic a 3 part series :) i'll be posting two additional fics detailing the events before and after sukuna and reader's night together. art by su2kuna on twt!

prologue (coming soon) | summary: sukuna doesn't know why he chooses to sit next to you on the first day of class. it might have something to do with the way your smile makes him stir in his pants.

sunday night | summary: you realize you’ve bit off more than you can chew the moment sukuna asks you to come up to his room. you've talked a big game all night, but what happens when he finds out it’s your first time?

after (coming soon) | summary: your final exam starts in an hour. you and sukuna have a lot to talk about after last night.