cw: smut(mdni), rough unprotected sex, blow job, hand job, pussy eating, missionary, cumshot, titie sucking, doggy, fake sweet act!reader, sub!reader, dom!sukuna, fingering, sukuna calls reader princess, hyperfeminine!reader.
plug!sukuna x good girl!black!fem!reader
visual (+18)
You met Sukuna through Gojo, because of course you did. Gojo always had a way of dragging you into situations you had no business being in—like that house party in the heart of the city where the music thumped so hard the floor vibrated through your heels. You were supposed to be home by midnight, tucked into your suburban bed like the good girl everyone thought you were. But your crew? They knew better. They knew you liked the edge, the danger, the kind of men who made your mama’s church friends clutch their pearls.
And then there he was.
Sukuna leaned against a leather couch in the back room, two girls on either side of him like ornaments, but his eyes tracked you the second you walked in with Gojo. He didn’t smile. He didn’t have to. The power rolled off him in waves—expensive cologne, gold chains, and a gaze that peeled back every layer of your “sweet suburban princess” act.
“That’s her?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the bass, low and amused.
Gojo clapped you on the shoulder. “Don’t let the skirt fool you. She’s got a taste for trouble.”
You tilted your head, letting your ponytail sway, and gave him that soft smile that always made people underestimate you. “Hi.”
Sukuna’s lips curled. “Cute.”
That was two hours ago. Now the party had thinned out, and you were in his bedroom—his actual bedroom, because the man didn’t mess around. The door clicked shut behind you, and the air changed. Thick. Heavy.
You turned to face him, your pink babydoll dress riding up your thighs. It was short, lace-trimmed, with a plunging neckline that showed off the curve of your tits. Your heels—clear plastic strap-ons—made your legs look miles long. And your skin, rich brown and glowing under the dim gold light, was bare except for the thin strap of your thong, which you’d bought specifically for nights like this.
Sukuna didn’t say a word. He just stalked toward you, slow, deliberate, his pink hair falling over his forehead. He had a look on his face like he was about to tear into a meal. And you? You bit your lip, letting your lashes drop, playing the shy girl.
“I don’t usually do this,” you whispered, voice all honey.
He laughed. A low, rough chuckle that sent a shiver straight to your cunt.
“Yeah, Princess. I bet you don’t.”
His hand came up, grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. You gasped—half surprise, half pleasure—and he leaned down, mouth hovering over your ear.
“Gojo told me all about you. Sweet girl from the suburbs, hangs with the wrong crowd. Gets off on being bad. But you know what I love?” His tongue traced the shell of your ear. “Fake innocent girls. They always scream the loudest.”
You whimpered. Not a real sound—you wanted this, wanted him to break you open. But you let it slip anyway, because the act was part of the game.
He shoved you backward onto the bed. You bounced, skirt riding up, exposing the damp spot on your thong. Sukuna’s eyes dropped, and he grinned.
“Damn. Already wet, Princess? And I ain’t even touch you yet.”
You spread your legs just a little, letting him see. “Maybe I just… like the atmosphere.”
He unbuckled his belt, slow, the metal jingling. “Nah. You like being told what to do. You like being used.”
Your breath hitched. Because he was right, and he knew it.
He climbed onto the bed, knees on either side of your hips, and yanked down the bodice of your dress. Your tits spilled out, nipples hard, and he didn’t waste time. He leaned down and sucked one into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing until you arched your back and moaned—a real one, this time.
“Mmmph—fuck, ’kuna…”
“Mm. That’s it. Let me hear you.”
His hand slid down your stomach, under the lace of your thong, and two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning. You cried out, back bowing, as he pumped them in and out, curling against that spot that made your vision blur.
“So tight for a ‘good girl,’” he growled. “Bet your little church friends don’t know you like this. Bet they don’t know how you drip when a man tells you to beg.”
“Please—” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.
“Please what, Princess?” He pulled his fingers out, shiny with your wetness, and brought them to your mouth. “Clean ‘em.”
You opened your lips, tasting yourself on his fingers, salty and sweet. Your eyes stayed on his the whole time.
He smirked. “Good girl. Now get on your knees.”
You scrambled up, turning around, dropping to your knees on the plush carpet. You heard the zipper of his pants, the rustle of fabric, and then the heavy slap of his cock against his stomach. When you looked back, your mouth went dry.
He was thick. Veiny. The head flushed deep red, already slick with precum. He wrapped his hand around the base and tapped it against your cheek.
“Open up, Princess. Show me how a good girl sucks cock.”
You parted your lips, stuck out your tongue, and let him guide the head past your teeth. The taste hit you—salt, musk, pure male heat—and you moaned as you took him deeper. Your hands gripped his thighs, and you worked your mouth up and down, hollowing your cheeks, letting spit drip down your chin.
“Fuck—yeah, just like that,” he grunted, his hand in your hair, guiding your rhythm. “Look at you. Pretty little suburban princess, gagging on my dick. What would your mama say?”
You couldn’t answer. You were too busy taking him all the way, throat relaxing, tears pricking your eyes. But you didn’t stop. You let him fuck your face, his hips thrusting shallow, his balls slapping against your chin.
“Mm—sh-shit—” The half-finished sounds fell from his lips. “Gonna—you want it, Princess? You want me to—?”
You pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. “No. Not yet. I want you inside me.”
He hauled you up by the arm, bent you over the edge of the bed, and ripped your thong off. The fabric tore—you didn’t care. He pushed your upper body down, arching your back, your ass in the air. His hand came down on one cheek, a sharp slap that made you yelp.
“That’s for being greedy.”
Then he spread you open, and you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. He didn’t tease. He shoved in, all at once, a thick, brutal stretch that pulled a scream from your throat.
“Ah—fuck! ‘Kunaa—!”
“Yeah. Take it. Take all of it.”
He started to pound into you, his hips slapping against your ass, the sound wet and obscene. Skin on skin. The bed frame creaked. Your tits swung with every thrust, your nails digging into the duvet.
You couldn’t think. You could only feel—his cock hitting that spot deep inside, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his voice growling in your ear.
“This what you wanted, Princess? This what you came for? To get your tight little pussy wrecked by a plug?”
“Yes—yes—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
He leaned over, his chest against your back, and reached around to grab your tits, pinching your nipples. “Beg for it. Say my name.”
“Sukuna—Sukuna, please—I need—I’m gonna cum—”
“Not yet.” He pulled out abruptly, leaving you empty, trembling. You whined at the loss.
“Turn over.”
You flipped onto your back, legs open, pussy glistening. He crawled over you, positioned himself, and entered you again in one smooth motion. This time you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
Missionary. Eye contact. His face above yours, those dark eyes burning.
“Look at me when I fuck you, Princess.”
You nodded, unable to speak. He started a slower rhythm, grinding his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks through your whole body. He dipped his head and took your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and you bucked against him.
“Oh—oh, god—right there—I’m gonna—mm—fuck, Sukuna—”
“Cum for me,” he said, his voice a command. “I can feel you throbbing. Let go.”
And you did. Your orgasm ripped through you, your back arching, your walls clenching around him, a scream tearing from your throat. He kept thrusting through it, drawing it out, fucking you through the aftershocks.
“That’s it. Good fucking girl.”
But he wasn’t done. He pulled out again, flipped you over onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up. His cock slid back in, wet with your cum, and he set a punishing pace.
“Gonna fill this ass up, Princess. Gonna—mm—fuck, so tight—can’t—sh-shit—”
He was close. You could hear it in his ragged breathing, in the way his grip tightened on your hips. He leaned forward, his chest on your back, and his hand snaked around to rub your clit.
“One more,” he growled. “One more for me.”
You were oversensitive, but his fingers on your clit pushed you over the edge again. You came with a broken cry, your whole body shaking.
Sukuna pulled out at the last second, his hand wrapping around his cock, a few rapid strokes. Then the first hot rope of cum splashed across your ass. Then another, and another, painting your brown skin white. He groaned, low and long, as he emptied himself onto you.
For a moment, the only sound was your harsh breathing. Then he flopped down beside you, arm over his eyes.
After a second, he said, “You ain’t sweet at all, Princess.”
You smiled, still catching your breath, your ass sticky with his cum.
“Nobody has to know.”
He snorted. “Oh, Gojo knows. He knew exactly what he was dropping off.”
You turned your head to look at him, your mascara smudged, your lipstick wrecked. “And you? You gonna tell?”
He reached over, grabbed your chin, and kissed you hard—a possessive, tongue-twisting kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded.
“Nah. I think I’m gonna keep you.”
You shivered, and not from the cold. Because you knew, right then, that you’d let him.
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