he looks down in shame. and ryomen sukuna is never ashamed of anything he’s done, and he’s done a lot of shit.
“that asshole was putting his hands on you” he huffs and looks at your chest instead of your eyes “so yes, again” you’ve never looked this visibly annoyed, and what was scaring him even more is how calm your voice was.
“look at me, not my tits ryomen” you narrow your eyes, he immediately looks up “yes ma’am” you grab his collar and the security turns a blind eye(he’s been getting on their nerves also)
“when I say no stupid shit, that means no-” you give him a hard slap “-jail, got it?” he just nods his face didn’t even budge, of course you don’t intend to harm your husband and you’re not abusive. sometimes with ryomen sukuna you literally need to smack some sense into him.
“yes ma’am” he nods again, “can you bail me now?” you roll your eyes “im not picking you up again, call choso” ryomens eyebrows knit together in annoyance “but i want you to pick me up” if anyone didn’t know any better, he’s whining for you to pick him up.
“no ryo” he tilts his head and subconsciously pouts then leans in “cmon woman, stop being a brat” his words have no bite, but when you smile he scowls.
you take a deep sigh and close your eyes, “last time” “i promise baby” he smirks.
you both know this definitely isn’t the first, nor the last.
ps. ok pinky promise this is the last drabble after this ima finish two more request than boxer choso is coming😭 taglist : : @in-aa @chewiebee @applelite @crybabylulu @yassifie-d @ai-no-tegami @silverwfern @oksukuna
you watched elias with immense admiration as he got dressed, the way he coordinated every piece of clothing to fit together and match was something so attractive to you.
it was no understatement he was the dandiest nigga in the delta — and he looked damn good. the nice shine of gold stuck out from the grill piece on his peary white teeth to the cufflink that had his initials “e.m.” on them.
“baby which tie should i wear?” stack questioned while holding two of them up in your vanity mirror. you were still stuck in your own world of admiring your man, you didn’t hear him.
stack confused on why you didn’t answer, looked up to meet your gaze in the mirror. he saw the damn near blissed out look your had in your doe eyes and a light smirk appeared on his face.
he turned around facing you, bending down to your eye level. “you listening baby?”
blinking out your dazed state, your head tilted back some to look at him. “hmm? what did you say?”
“you ain’t hear a thing i just said?”, southern draw evident in his voice with a hint of teasing.
“it’s okay pretty, i know what you want”, he said it like he already knew which he did. he knew his lady like the back of his hand, and even though she wouldn’t always ask for him to pleasure her—he always did.
leaning back up, he grabbed you by the waist and picked you up with ease. sitting down on the edge of the bed and plopping you right on the fat of his clothed thigh.
your nightgown raised up a little, showing the cute black lacey panties you had on. stack made himself comfortable, leaning back. “come on sweetheart, you know what to do”, giving your bottom a light tap to encourage you.
you let out a sigh of pleasure and relief as you began to slowly rock your hips against his thigh. you had a thing for the bliss he was able to bring you without even touching your pussy.
like clockwork, your essence began to leak through your panties and eventually onto his slacks. “you making a mess on my new pants, you gon lick it right on up too, right?”, he asked looking straight in your eyes.
small whimpers left your mouth before you answered with a yes. “good now make yourself cum baby. i want your sweet smell on me all day.”
a/n:: literally wrote this in twenty minutes so its not my best work. i saw yall liked the last lil drabble so i wanted to continue. dandy!stack is now something stamped😏!
He taps the head of his cock on your clit a few times, earning a whine from you. He has your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs back as you lie on the bed.
“Put it in already!”
You beg impatiently, squirming. He slaps the back of your thighs multiple times. “Behave.” He mutters, eyes too fixated on the movement of his cock between your pussy lips. Your slick trickles down to your other puckered hole, the sheets beneath you already getting wet.
He moves the length of his cock up and down, the head catching on your clit multiple times. Each time it goes down, he slips the tip in, then pulls it back out to repeat the cycle again. It was agonizing and frustrating.
“You’re a—“
He slaps your sopping cunt, right on your clit. “I’m a what, doll? Huh?” He teases. It’s a game to him. Seeing how far he’d push you before you start yelling or crying.
Today, it was the latter. He heard the sniffles first, and when he looked at you, a few tears of frustration were already falling down your cheeks. His cock twitches at the sight, a bead of precum falling right on your puffy clit. “Aw what is it, baby? Too much for you? Am i being too mean?”
You nod with another sniffle as he lets go of your ankles, letting each one rest on one of his shoulders. You can finally look at his face now, your eyes glossed over with tears and need. He leans over, pushing you into a mating press, and kisses you sloppily. His hand holds your jaw, pushing your head further against the pillows.
Then he finally slips it in, your mouth falling open as your back arches. You can feel him stretch you deliciously and that one prominent vein that runs along his length. He smiles at the filthy sounds escaping your lips— both lips actually. “Fuck… atta girl” He groans.
stealing your husband’s chocolate and finding out it was laced with an aphrodisiac!
[content: MDNI, crack smųt, a very unserious piece of work, piv, hair pulling, use of aphrodisiacs, sukuna’s sour but then he’s sweet]
Never in your life have you been so horny it hurt.
“Kuna, please—harder,” you cry out.
“I’m going as hard as I fucking can, you little slut,” he snaps, each thrust matching every harsh word that gets spat through his teeth. “THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T EAT RANDOM. CHOCOLATE. ON. THE. COUNTER.”
“I’m sorry! Fuck!! I didn’t know!”
“There was a note saying DON’T eat it—you just didn’t give a shit because you’re a thief and a glutton. A liar now, too,” he continues to scold you over the chocolate bar he was going to give to Jin so he’d stop groveling over his ex. It’s been 6 fucking months, he’s tired of having to listen to him go on and on about Kaori. Enough is enough—he needs to go out and sleep with someone.
And now Jin’s never going to shut up. Sukuna doesn’t even want to look at you right now—let alone reward your behavior with dick.
“And now you’re cryin’ like it’s my fuckin’ fault.” It’s him who should be crying right now. “It’s simple: Leave my fucking snacks alone. I always get multiples of each so you’d keep your grubby little hands off them. Why can’t you just be normal and go in my wallet?? Fuck—Arch that back some more.” He cracks his palm over your ass. “Yeah, hike it up nice and high.”
“I can’t!” It feels like it’s about to break with all the weight he’s putting on it! Both of his hands pinning you down, burying every last inch of his cock inside of you.
He scoffs, nudging for you to close your thighs, then planting his knees right next to yours so they stay that way. “Do you want to cum?”
“…yes,” you whimper.
“Then fucking arch it.”
You sniffle. “Okay.”
He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.
“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.
It has his attention now.
The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.
“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.
“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“
“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”
“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.
“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”
“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.
“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”
His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”
“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”
“I… I don’t know—“
“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”
“Please.”
“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”
And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.
"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”
Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.
“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”
Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.
He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.
The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.
absolute batman, who's so fucking big that even riding him brings tears to your eyes. he's thick beyond belief, tip leaking, and red. he wants to feel bad, the way your lip quivers and your thighs shake should evoke pity, but god, it just makes his dick twitch beneath you. "take it slow, baby, you want me to help you?" he lifts his hips slightly as you nod, his head tossed back while he eases into you. "fuck, that's it... nice and tight."
you can only ride him for two minutes before your legs start to give out beneath you, and he has to flip you over. his weight almost completely crushes you, the walls of your cheap gotham apartment are thin, and his hand clamps over your mouth while you clench around him. it feels like he never stops, he can pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, and his voice doesn't falter "uh huh...make a mess, just gimme one more."
Your roommate Sukuna can’t stop staring at your lips. It’s not his fault, he’s never seen you wear lipstick before and now all of a sudden you have this glossy red sheen drawing his eyes to you.
He caught you leaning towards the mirror, mouth open in a small oh as you slowly glided the red gloss over your plush lips, and he just about froze in his tracks. Your eyes lazily half lidded as you focused all your attention onto getting perfectly straight lines, completely zoned in and not even noticing him behind you watching your reflection in awe. And god help him when you smacked your lips together, tacky tinted gloss stringing your top and bottom lips together for hardly a second before snapping away.
And now you’re sitting across from him on the couch, nonchalantly picking at your nails while you tell him… what were you telling him about again? It’s hard to focus when the only thing on his mind is how pretty you look in red. You pucker your lips and push them up underneath your nose, and when you offhandedly mention your lipgloss smelling like cherries he fears he might just faint.
Does it taste like cherries too? Sukuna wants nothing more than to glide his tongue over your lips and find out. To feel your lips stick to his own when he presses them into you, leaving a tacky cherry residue for him to swipe his tongue over. For you to leave a sticky red tinted trail from his mouth to his tattooed jaw. To have that pretty gloss that you carefully perfected end up smudged on the corners of your mouth, swollen red lips wrapped around his-
“Sukuna! You’re not even listening are you?”
He blinks in surprise, his eyes shooting up to meet your narrowed ones, “Huh?”
“I’ll be at work so you’ll need to let the guys in to fix the water heater,” You lean forward and annunciate each syllable with a gentle smack to his chest, “Don’t! For-get! I’m so sick of taking cold showers.”
A cold shower seems to be exactly what Sukuna needs right now.
Your Roommate Sukuna series masterlist here!!
Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!! Divider by @adornedwithlight
Tutor!Gojo who’s supposed to be the smartest kid in your department…supposed to be. But he just can’t focus when he’s around you- every brain cell of his frizzles away. Tutor!Gojo who doesn’t care about his fellow cIassmates, who doesn’t care about sociaIization, who doesn’t care about anything and everything that isn’t to do with his studies—but somehow you n’ that pretty smile of yours has been taking over his brain. Tutor!Gojo who you ask, during tutoring, whether your answer is corrected—“Yes uh- no, uh- marrymepIease.”
How do you think each twin would deal with a girl running or putting her hand on his stomach during sex?
If she tries to run from Smoke dick:
Smoke wouldn’t let her get more than an inch. The moment he feels her hips shift or her body try to re oil from the sheer size and thickness of his dick his reaction would be instantaneous and physical. He wouldn’t shout or ask why, he would simply react.
He’d reach out with those large, calloused hands and seize her hips in a vice grip. He would haul her back against him with a brutal, singular motion, pinning her firmly against the mattress or the wall. He’d lean in close, his chest hard against her back because we know this man love to bend you over. Then he would speak in a low gravelly rumble against her ear or her neck.
“Where you think you goin’?”
He would use his weight to anchor her, ensuring she feels every inch of that dick pressing into her. He’d slowly drive that thick dick back in her. Smoke doesn’t do “gentle” when he feels her slipping away or trying to run. He takes control. There is no exit until he’s finished.
He’s keeping that stroke, he wants you crying on the dick.
When she presses her palm against his stomach or chest to push back:
It’s a signal, her saying “daddy, it’s too much.” Or “I can’t take it.” When he’s stretching her past her limit.
Smoke don’t react with hesitation he only gets triggered by her body fighting the girth and length of him. It makes his deepest, most possessive instincts come to life. Smoke ain’t a man of many words, and he isn’t one for gentle reassurance. To him, her resistance isn’t a request to stop it’s a sign that he successfully claimed every single inch of her.
Smoke will lean his full, heavy weight forward, pin her deeper into the mattress or the wall with either his hands on the backs of her thighs/knees. He may even bear hug her while he in it. He catches her wrists in one of his large hands with a steel grip and pin her arm above her head or firmly against his own chest.
Smoke would say little to no words. He’ll grunt, growl, breath heavy through his nose. He’ll look down at her his expression hard and neutral (😩😩😩) though the intensity in his gaze is scorching! He wants her to see that he knows exactly what she’s feeling.
“You mine…take it.”
He would hold her there, frozen and stretched, letting her feel the thickness of him pulsing deep inside her. Then with a slow, brutal efficiency, he would begin to drive back into her, he’d use his hips to grind his dick directly against her most sensitive spots, forcing her body to accommodate his size. Every thrust is a heavy, thudding impact that reminds her exactly who owns her. He won’t stop until her nails start to claw at his shoulders, his chest, his abs.
If she tries to run or pull away from his dick:
Stack wouldn’t react like Smoke. Instead, he’d treat it as a challenge, a playful game of cat and mouse. The moment he feels her recoil from his big dick he wouldn’t just grab her he’d tease her about it.
He might let her slide back just an inch, only to catch her by the waist with a low, melodic chuckle. He’d pull her back toward him with a sliding, sensual friction that makes her skin tingle. He’d lean in, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a smooth, honeyed tone that vibrates through her entire body.
“Now, where you goin’, sugar? We just gettin’ to the best part,” he’d whisper.
Stack uses his charisma to coax her back, kissing her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers to distract her from the intimidation of his size. But once he had her settled, the “pretty gangster” disappears and the predator emerges. He’d grip her thighs, hoisting them higher over his shoulders to open her up completely. He would slide back in her with a slow, agonizing pace, watching her face with a smug, knowing grin. He wants her to feel the stretch to feel the way his dick sits perfectly against her spot.
When she presses her palm against Stack’s stomach, that frantic, trembling push that tells him it’s too much:
That his girth is stretching her to a breaking point. Stack don’t react like Smoke. Instead, he’d react with that chuckle and that smirk. To Stack, her resistance isn’t a signal to stop it’s a compliment. It’s the ultimate validation of his masculinity. He treats her struggle like a game he’s won.
Stack doesn’t pin her down with force he uses his charisma to dismantle her panic. He leans back just a fraction to look in her eyes. He’s got that predatory grin with deep dimples popping as he watches her expression of overwhelming desire. He’ll let her hand stay there for a moment, feeling the heat of her hand against his flexed muscles before slowly wrapping his fingers around her wrist and kissing the inside of it with his eyes still locked. Then he makes his voice sound all smooth and sexy.
“Now, baby…you know you want every single inch of this. Don’t lie to me. I can feel how tight you grippin’ me. You just a little overwhelmed by how big I am, ain’t you?”
Then he’ll guidance her hand down from his stomach, sliding her palm over the hard ridge of his hip and then directly into the base of his dick, forcing her to feel the thick, pulsing vein and the heavy weight of him as he remains buried deep inside her. He wants her to acknowledge the size of him, to feel the way his dick sits deep.
Then he moves, driving that dick at a slow pace. He pulls back until he’s almost out to tease her with the sensation of emptiness then he’s sliding back in with a steady pressure that makes her toes curl. All while watching her face and savoring every reaction.
“Just breath for me…open up for daddy. Take it all. I’m gon’ fill you up so full.”
Now she’s begging him to stop teasing and only then will Stack hammer into her 😩😩😩
sukuna’s clingy (he prefers the term “possessive”) even as he sleeps
i feel like sukuna sleeps holding you like you’re a hostage that’s going to wake up in the middle of the night and run away.
he’s the big spoon of course and he’s molded around your body like a puzzle piece. chest pressed seamlessly to your backside, one arm hooked around your neck in a loving? soft chokehold, the other curled over your waist, palm splayed over the natural plush of your tummy. your thighs up in fetal position between his, legs intertwined, feet touching, literally the whole nine yards. entirely unaware or uncaring of his size, but definitely aware of yours. hunched over you like a dragon protecting its glimmering mountain of gold and treasure.
and it’s that kind of embrace that seems uncomfortable or suffocating from the outside-looking-in, but it’s actually the best sleep you’ve gotten in years and the only way you can sleep now. it’s the kind that has you snoring when you never snore. the kind that has you waking up looking like a skrunkly cat after a good nap.
his steady heartbeat thrumming against your back and counting sheep for you, your chin tucked in his inner elbow as you drool all over it, head effortlessly perched at just the right angle on his meaty bicep instead of that flat and lifeless pillow that gives you a crick in your neck. your body grounded with the comforting weight of his heavy arm strewn over it, the gentle heat of his thumb stroking on your lower abdomen, the pressure you usually carry in your lower back gone because your legs are elevated due to the beefy mass that’s under them. it’s like he’s your custom made body pillow.
and if you need to pee in the middle the night you’ll have to smack his arm to get him to unfurl his tired limbs with a grunt because he sleeps like he’s dead. he’ll follow you there even when you tell him to stay in bed, heavy feet dragging behind you across the cool vinyl, one sock missing and his loose sleep pants hanging off his hips.
“hurry up, m’cold.” he’ll rub his eyes and grumble groggily as if you forced him to come with you.
he’s just standing in the dark bathroom with his arms crossed, eyes drifting back to a close while he sways like he’s on a ship. then he’s glaring at the doorframe with the most adorable, sleepy scowl on his face after he stumbles into it on accident, like someone put it there just to spite him. that is until he deems it worthy enough to lean on, a loud yawn blooming from the drowsy, messy-haired giant who’s patiently waiting to crawl back into bed with you.
satoru’s thought long and hard about how intimacy with you would go, enough times that it borders on embarrassing. with you being the more experienced one in every way that’s relevant, the proposition coming from your end makes the most sense. that or him working up the courage to bring up the benefits part to his first (and only) study partner with benefits. every version of the latter that he envisions ends in him bumbling and stuttering over his words like an idiot. bringing it up and embarrassing himself is the last thing he’d want.
“let me see your cock, satoru.” this isn’t a scenario he thinks his own imagination could’ve ever conjured up. the grin splitting your lips isn’t like any expression he thinks he’s seen you make before, too giddy with the events unfolding. you’ve been teasing the man for the better half of an hour: touching him under the guise of being cold, shoving your tits up against his warm side. playing with his fingers, kissing his neck. kissing him.
somehow both your attention strayed from being productive—escalating to swapping spit while making out and sliding your fingers through his hair, notes previously pulled up all but abandoned on your laptop.
your study buddy proves once again to be too much of an easy teasing target, and maybe you’re terrible for playing into it but god...it’s just so fun.
he’s blushing, again. he always seems to do that around you. soft, kiss swollen pink bottom lip caught like prey between his incisors, nails digging into his jeans. jeans that don’t do much to hide his steadily growing erection.
the sight sends a rush of heat down south, own imagination fueling your arousal and drawing a giddy giggle out of you. you lean back on your palms, huffing out a soft sigh. “you know I don’t bite. no need to be shy.”
you watch a full body shudder wrack through him, hand shoving his glasses up into his hair before both stray to his belt. “i’m not shy.”
your nails graze over the leather belt, fingertips pressing into the cool buckle. “oh yeah?”
you’re hooked, eyes following the way he undoes it himself with his shaky fingers, tugging and pulling, tossing the belt aside. undoing the button and his zip, not even taking his pants off fully before he’s hooking a finger on his briefs. “yeah. but like…y-you’re sure? you want to see it?”
“it?” your head tilts as though confused. “you mean your cock?” you shift to sit higher on your heels, peering down at the newly exposed skin. the coarse trail of white from his navel that disappears into the tight band of his briefs. the taut lines of his lower abdomen. “yeah, satoru. I wanna see ‘it’.” and touch it, and hold it.. “if you still want to, you know..let me see it. obviously.”
his eyes bore into yours for a few seconds, something nervous there as the tips of his ears glow with how red they are. your lips part to reassure him—you’d been fine with just kissing the other times, this time wouldn’t be any different. but he’s tugging his briefs low and your thoughts instantly empty. it’s almost funny how the sight robs your lungs of the air it so desperately needs, gaze fixed on what he’s just unveiled for you. slapping against his tee as its freed from its confinement, bobbing slightly with its weight.
satoru’s hard as diamond, thick and flushed. cock a pretty, ruddy shade of pink. pearlescent droplets bead near the head and you instantly feel saliva pooling warm under your tongue. you take in everything—from where the trail leads to an equally neat patch leading down to his base, the way he's half hard and steadily getting harder just from you looking—
“what the hell?”
he feels like he’s gonna die. first time you’ve ever seen his cock and you exclaim ‘what the hell?’ — what exactly is he supposed to take that as?
“oh my god, you hate it.” his hands fly down to hide it uselessly, tremor in his fingers not missed. “is it ugly? you think it’s ugly.”
his face is scarlet, lightly painted over pale skin. just when you think you can’t like him any more than you already do, he just fuels your affection towards him.
“no! no, I don’t hate it.” you’re quick to make the words said in awe clearer, scooting closer to him on your knees, “ugly? never.” your hands reach up to slide his glasses back down so they’re perched on his nose again and not in his hair, lightly thumbing at the apples of his cheeks. “I really like it, trust me.”
you let your gaze drop back down. deliberatecan, slow, dragging over every inch of him before finding his face again with the most innocent expression you can manage.
"why are you hiding?" the playful pout comes easy, head tilting. your hands lower to smooth up his jean covered thighs, gently squeezing, fingers grazing bare skin when you get to his upper thighs. his eyes follow your path, fixed on your fingers now hovering over his shielding his length, “can I touch you?”
his nod comes fast, and your hands move once you have the okay. prying his away, getting your fill again just from looking at it.
with his hands gone you can get a proper look - thick with a flushed, glistening tip, another bead spilling free from your attention alone. the vein and the side taunts you, gusset of your panties growing uncomfortably slick and plastering itself to your folds. you press your thighs together instinctively—you’re not sure what you’d expected but you do know that this far surpasses it. sitting on his lap had clearly been an inaccurate way to gauge his size because…how would you even begin to take him if you guys got that far? “…god.”
your fingers wrap around him and he shivers, a shaky moan punching out of him as his head pitches forward. he’s warm and thick in your grip, heavier than you expected, thumb immediately finding the precum welling near his tip. you smear and spread it, hand slowly stroking downward once, cock steadily becoming slick the more you play with him. “so pretty, satoru..”
you’ve barely done anything and he feels like he’s close to embarrassing himself. you’re just so pretty and nice to him and he’s been thinking about doing something like this for ages…he doesn’t exactly have it easy right now.
“satoru, are..” your voice sounds distant, his mind somewhere far away. all his brain power is focused on the point of contact between you and him, cock throbbing in your grip. heat pools low in his gut, sharp and insistent - the kind that makes his brows furrow, jaw slackening around shaky moan. his hands grip at the sheet on either side of him, bunched in his hold like it’ll help him maintain any semblance of his sanity.
“..’toru? are you listening?”
a squeeze to his base does a quick job of bringing him back, gasp warming you to the core as his hips buck upward. his hazy, half lidded gaze fixes on you again, giving you a quick nod. "i’m—yeah. sorry, i’m listening.”
you smile at the brief distraction, hand finding a gentle rhythm. up down in firm, even strokes that spread every glossy bead gathering at his tip down his rigid shaft. you pick up on the change of his breathing, the rising pitch of his moans, curses muttered under his breath.
you’re closer before he can process it, thigh on either side of one of his with your hand never slowing, nosing at the side of his jaw. “wanna kiss some more..?” his head turns and his lips meet yours before the question can even land, desperate and entirely too eager to continue where you’d left off. his hands finally leave the sheets to slide into your hair, angling your head, pulling you closer. your mouths move together, something wet and urgent - lips smacking, tongues mutually probing at each other’s lips for access. one slide of his over yours and you’re moaning in sheer glee, getting closer because even this isn’t close enough. lowering your hips so your clothed cunt is flush to his hard thigh under you, hips rolling absently for any sort of stimulation. you’re sharing breaths more than you’re breaking free for fresh air, and neither of you seem to find issue with the arrangement.
“mm, ‘toru..’ a giggle warms his lips. you’re dizzy from the oxygen you’d deprived yourself of, kissing wetly across his cheeks, down his jaw, “god, I love kissing you.” you honestly think you could sit for hours doing just that and you’d die happy.
“I—o-oh god—me too. I love kissing you.” his head tilts, almost instinct at this point to bare his neck to your attention. your mouth finds its target instantly, instantly latching onto soft skin. you suck at the flesh slowly, feeling marks bloom hot under your lips, fist keeping rhythm along his length.
“aw, do you?”
the words leave you, muffled against his neck, but he picks up on the teasing tone despite that fact. you’d think you’re the one being touched with how turned on you are, teeth finding a new spot to bite into, moaning at the pressure of his thigh against your clit. “do you like cumming for me too? hm, satoru?”
the teasing hadn’t done him any favours in the first place but asking him a question like that all casually, calling his name that way…
“I…wait,” he feels that heat that's been settled low for the length of your teasing suddenly flaring hot, balls twitching. pulling tight.
“nng—haah. w-wait, please—” satoru’s hips jerk before he can even warm you properly.. the warmth hits your fist first, before you’re even registering anything. it seems continuous, pooling in your grip. spilling down your knuckles and his length in thick pulses.
“oh?”
by the time your brain catches up and you’re pulling out his neck to look, a strangled noise claws its way out of him, hand pulling you back in to kiss you harder. a shaky moan breaks against your lips, hips helpessly rolling up into your grip in the face of his orgasm. “‘m..shit, s-so sorry—c-cumming—” you put up 0 fight, swallowing every sound, working him higher and higher with firm strokes as he empties into your grip, shaking under you.
“that’s it, pretty boy…keep cumming.” you breathe the words into his mouth, high on his moans, his hand grabbing at your wrist that continues to twist. your stroking slows to a stop after a little, glistening strand stretching thin between your lips when you break from your kiss.
satoru’s chest is heaving, eyes squeezed shut behind the glasses as the embarrassment hits and settles post his mindbending orgasm. “..oh my god.” he wishes a sinkhole would just open up under him and pull him under.
“—toru..satoru?”
his eyes open and his eyes are instantly on yours—pupils blown but your gaze is soft, still smiling. “don’t get in your head about it. that was really hot, I promise.”
he trusts you, he really does. but finding…whatever that was hot? you can see the skepticism on his face and it only makes your heart swell, unoccupied hand reaching for his. your fingers wrap around his wrist, and he watches dumbfounded as you guide his hand right under your skirt. his fingers find the arousal damp fabric of your underwear and his jaw slackens, the skeptical look replaced by something that makes your stomach flip. “oh.”
“yeah, oh.” the smile on your lips wobbles as his fingers trace the shape of your cunt over the fabric, next words breathless as they leave you, “don’t feel bad. we’re—mm, ‘t-toru—basically in the same boat. see?”
“yeah...same boat..” barely out of his first orgasm, his arousal returns with a vengeance.
his fingers find the swell of your clit through your panties, pressing down just to see your expression falter just a little. and falter it does, your whine warming his cheeks, flutter of your eyes mirroring his own. “nng, satoru..”
the next 5 seconds feel like somewhat of a blur—one second you’re on your knees, sat on his thigh close to him. but the next? you’re on your back. sheets soft as silk under your molten skin, skirt flipped up just enough that he can see underneath it. his cock is still warm and heavy in your hand, growing thicker with his renewed arousal. satoru's fingers worm their way past the gusset of your underwear to circle your bare clit with enough pressure that your hips tilt upward, a rush of arousal pooling wetly against his fingertips as he moves down to your entrance. then back up to your clit just to spread your mess. moving like he already has his mind set on something, like he wants the same thing that you do.
"...i'll last longer this time, i promise."
author's note :: 𑣲⋆ I offer inexperienced gojo today 🧎🏽♀️added a teeny bit more than originally planned but I like how it turned out
comments, likes and reblogs appreciated, thanks for reading! (❁´◡`❁)
extra : a/c - pamelachano on twitter <3
bouncing on clark kent with half his suit on and his head is thrown back and you're creaming all over the bottom half of his suit and he's literally close to tears trying not to cum in you
Higuruma who…can’t focus when you’re around. He can’t read past a sentence, he can’t sign his signature, he can’t even turn the page. It’s not your fault—it’s completely his. Higuruma who ultimately leaves for his home office- he defintely won’t be getting any work done in the living room…and it seems the home office is no different. Higuruma who pops his head out of the doorway and calls out to you softly, “Honey- this is completely on me, however I am a weak man, but could you perhaps go to the other side of the house so I can read this one sentence? You’re looking particularly beautiful at the moment and it’s…distracting.”
“Hiromi- I’m in sweatpants, a ratty t-shirt, and no make-up?”
satoru knows you hear him when he cums. you know he does.
you’d been as good about this whole thing as one could be. after all, it's not like he does it day in day out, just occasionally throughout the week.
you’d have your headphones in to pretend that you’re immersed in one of your shows, volume low. acting like you don’t already have the sound of satoru's moans burned into your memory, like you can’t hear him getting himself off down the hall. trying your hardest to not let it affect you. which works well enough.
usually, at least.
sometimes it gets to be too much. your soft bottom lip ends up caught between your teeth, thighs pressed together like that'll do anything for the incessant throbbing down south. it unfortunately lasts maybe 5 minutes before you cave, weak enough to let a hand slide down the front of your shorts to ease the growing ache building in your abdomen. sliding two fingers deep and pretending they're longer, slightly thicker. able to curl in a way yours can't. palming your breast under your cami and imagining that it's a slightly larger, warmer hand working you up like this.
pretending that it isn’t your roommate’s moans alone that's causing this stubborn arousal. hoping you’d time his orgasm just right so you’d finish with him.
hell, maybe you’re just as bad as satoru is, just not as loud.
he’s always ridiculously shameless about it too—deep groans, breathless curses, the wet drag of his fist as he strokes his cock. one you've pictured a shameful number of times. little praises choked out like there’s someone else there making him feel good.
“you’re so wet,” you’d once heard him murmur, voice edging off into a deep, toe curling moan, “feels so good, baby…”
it’s like he wants you to hear him.
which you do. every. single. fucking time without fail.
once is mistake, twice is a coincidence? but 3 times? and the various instances after those? satoru gojo is ruining your fucking life. your sanity.
not a coincidence, but pattern. sheer pattern. he has to know. if the knowing glint in his pale eyes when morning came meant anything, his chirpy little ‘sleep well, roomie?’ that has the tips of your ears heating because no, obviously fucking not! grade a asshole, that’s what he is. it’s already a struggle to fight the building attraction–he’s annoying as hell when he wants to be, but a sweetheart of a friend. fixes stuff around the apartment without you even having to ask, makes you breakfast here and there, stays up at ridiculous hours with you when you can't sleep...among other things.
but now you know exactly how he sounds when he makes himself cum, how whiny he gets, and it just makes that fickle restraint falter even more.
aside from the whole ‘noisy jerker’ thing…he isn’t bad at all. you’d gotten lucky in the roommate lottery, you suppose. he at least handles his shit with the door closed (the singular saving grace).
tonight’s different though. you’d stepped out for a quarter of an hour at best to run to the convenience store—he’d been to one to offer up his card to restock the snacks in the communal cupboard, letting you go with a simple ‘get the good stuff, yeah?’
he’d been given a clear time frame so there’s no good reason why his door is cracked when you get back in, fucking up into his fist with gentle strokes and zero urgency at all.
"oh fuck…just like that.”
you halt mid step, frozen—card in your hold, heart clawing its way right up into your throat.
the sight is much more than you’d expected. he’s a much prettier sight than your imagination could've ever conjured up.
sweats pushed low and bunched on his thighs, muscled chest bare. his lashes rest against the flush dusting his cheeks, snowy strands mussed with a few damp ones sticking to his forehead. your eyes drop lower, you can't help it. to his happy trail, neatly groomed hairs that do match the drapes leading all the way down to his cock. it's shameful how fast blood rushes to your face. it's a pretty, flushed pink, a bead of precum welling at the tip as he strokes up and down, grip twisting near—
maybe…maybe you’d just wait till he finished. silently slip back into your room like you'd seen nothing at all, keeping the card till he finished. he wouldn’t mind. you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even be looking.
he’s jerking off and you’re just stood there like a peeping tom. gosh, you feel like a bigger pervert than he is. getting off to the sound of him is bad enough, now this?
“are you just gonna stand there?” the words come out of no where, startling you. it’s lazy sounding, a syrupy drawl tinged with amusement. like this is a normal, everyday conversation that you two have. the card slackens in your hold and your breathing ceases momentarily, mouth parting to get an excuse out, a ramble of apologies perhaps.
“you’re—oh fuck,” and he doesn’t even stop, eyes closed, head tipped to the ceiling now. his lips part around a moan, squeezing at the base of his cock on his downstroke to ebb his pleasure. pearly cream smears near the pretty bulb with he strokes upward again, thumb brushing over a vein at the side. “—fine. you’re fine! come in, I was just thinking about you.”
you do, you’re not sure why you do. maybe it’s your body working faster than your mind is, one saying yes, other saying no type thing. clear betrayal of every sensible instinct you have. your limbs are moving before the words can even settle. he grins like he knew you’d do just that, shifting floorboards giving you away.
you try not to look, you really do but it’s right there. hefty cock held in a light grip, flushed head all soft and rosy. veins pulsing proudly under flushed, shiny flesh. a cock you’ve tried (you really have) to not imagine too often. glistening with what looks like either pre or saliva (maybe both). it's stiff and heavy looking in his hand—the kind of pretty that causes a near physical ache in your chest and somewhere lower, dampness between your thighs soaking through your panties.
“you’re gonna cum to it anyway,” he murmurs, “might as well get you in here to let you see the real thing, right?” your eyes follow another pearlescent dribble from his head, eyes growing glossy. you will the dampness pooling between your thighs away, trying to focus on anything but him while actively ogling at his cock. you’re stood there like a deer in headlights, his words registering late. when they finally do, you’re all hot in the face as you glance up at his face, stumbling over words about only being here to give him his card. “huh? I don’t even…satoru, I promise you it’s not like that at all.”
“it’s not?” and then he laughs, all deep and rich, not at all helping with your situation currently.
“you just happen to play with yourself exactly when i’m getting myself off? the walls are thin, pretty. I don’t think the pillows muffle those vibrations too well.” you wonder if there’s a quick way to dig a hole to just jump into. maybe if you fake a fainting spell, he’d be nice enough to drop it so you could escape? shitty fucking amazon vibrator – the reviews were all lies.
a low, strangled noise leaves you - half startled, half mortified. trying to get a rebuttal out but your lips won’t cooperate.
satoru’s eyes open slowly, lids heavy like he’s already drunk on the pleasure. fuck, he loves this. loves the look on your face – lips parted, all stunned, no words to say to explain yourself. “haah—you’re not coming?” and god, he says it so breathily, you can’t help the instinctual clench of your thighs, nor the bob of your throat with how harsh you swallow.
“a little watching got you all needy?” he notices. of course he does. “why don’t we help each other out, hm? take your panties off. let me see how wet you got for me.”
that gives you a pause, panties in question uncomfortably damp. hot in the face with..embarrassment? arousal? most definitely arousal. maybe that more than the former. your hands are shaky as they graze the soft edges of your shorts, hooking under the elastic band of your panties.
you don’t know why you’re just listening to him. blindly following his instructions like it's law. "I...I really came to give you back the card." walking out of here and pretending this didn’t happen would be just as easy as walking in had been. but you don’t – you’ve been wanting to at least touch him for ages, depriving yourself right now wouldn’t do either of you any favors. "I was about to leave."
the plain pale gray, now turned smoky at the center falls, string of arousal connecting the fabric and your core briefly before snapping. it hits the floor in a heap with your shorts, and you press his card onto the closest surface to free both hands up.
"mm, i'm sure you were." his gaze drops and he groans at the clear glistening between your thighs, thumb swiping over his tip, hips twitching slightly as he slows his strokes.
“perfect. now c’mere, pretty.” he says again, softer this time. voice something warm and inviting.
you take a step, then a few more till you’re at the edge of the bed. his legs spread a little wider, chin angling down in a simple gesture. his strokes somehow get slower, lazier. teasing now, dragging out every wet sound, every twist of his wrist that has dribbles of his pre spilling over his knuckles. you sink down to your knees so you’re settled between his thighs, fingertips biting into the hardwood. the ache between your thighs that you'd been managing well enough makes itself known with a harsh throb, looking up at him through your lashes.
“there you are.” he croons, bringing his free hand back from gripping the sheets to brush stray hairs out your face, tipping your chin up. the pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip, slow, pressing in just slightly at the center.
“say ahh, roomie.”
a/n: another one for my fellow satogooners (¬ ͜ ͡¬) 𖹭.ᐟ -- edited repost! ˙ᵕ˙
thank you for reading! likes, reblogs and feedback very appreciated!
trying because your caleb is a big guy. and that applies to all of him. he's tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and long limbs, his cock heavy to match. you've never been able to get more than a few inches into your mouth at a time.
he watches you on your knees between his legs, watches as your hand strokes up and down his length slowly. your eyes fixate on it, studying every inch. you're so careful when you try to take it into your mouth. you suckle in the first inch, gently laving your tongue at the ridge. he grunts quietly as you bob down about halfway.
it feels good, but he can see that look in your eye. the determination to do more.
"baby, you- you don't have to," he chokes out through a tight jaw.
you look up from under your lashes with your mouth still full of him, and he almost finishes right then. a deep groan flows from between his lips. he expects you to pull off, to give him your usual "but i want to."
but instead you just try harder. you slide yourself down further, take as much of him as you can all the way back into your throat. his fingers grip the edge of the couch hard and his eyes roll back.
you start to gag, and that only makes it harder for him to hold on. your muscles contract. some more saliva oozes from your mouth. he’s pretty sure you’d choke yourself on him if you could, and that makes him feel sick with pleasure. he doesn’t like seeing your eyes water like this or your firsts clench around your thumb. but when it’s for him… when it’s for proving your devotion to him… he can’t help indulging in it.
yet when you make another wet, gargly noise, his hands come to either side of your head with gentle strength and pull you off. you try to whine around an desperate inhale, and his dick twitches. your eyes are hazy, leaking tears and so watery. he wraps an arm around you and lifts you up into his lap.
“wait- almost had it,” you say as he sits you down straddling his lap.
he chuckles softly, rolling his hips up and silencing those protests with the friction of his wet cock against your panties.
“doesn’t matter. can’t have you passin’ out on me before we get to the best part, pipsqueak.”
superboy prime, who's so cocky in his day-to-day, everything he says radiates narcissism right until the moment he has you in his lap. superboy prime -- clark kent, freezing up underneath you because your lips are on his neck. he keeps his hands on your waist, subtly slipping them under your shirt "oh...fuck, thats it, do whatever you want." he means for it to sound far more alturistic than it does pathetic. still, he's bucking up against you through your clothes and grabbing at your tits like this is the first pair he's ever felt.
his enthusiasm is nearing objectification, the way his hand slips under your jeans, if he were a virgin, you couldn't tell. "shit, you're so wet, that's all for me?" even as you respond with a shaky breath, he's enamoured, he's flustered, he'd cum in 45 seconds without a doubt just from the sight of you underneath him, he can't be the one on top. still, he has a reputation to maintain; he was superboy prime, "stay on top... wanna watch you fall apart."
[𝝑𝑒] :: true form!sukuna finds out his favorite pregnant concubine is injured :: tags. fluff, angst, reader gets called ‘woman’ :: ac. @/greybookman on x
you want that damn scroll.
one of the old texts on yokai lore sukuna left half-unrolled on a high shelf days ago. boredom and the restless energy of pregnancy drives you to it. standing on the tips of your toes, with one hand braced against the lacquered cabinet, you stretch up.
your belly, round and full at nearly eight months, shifts heavily. the baby kicks hard as if protesting.
“just... a little more—“
the wood creaks. your foot slips on the woven tatami mat and then the world tilts.
you hit the floor with a sharp cry, pain lancing through your side and wrist. the scroll clatters beside you. for a moment you lie there, breathlessly. your hand instinctively cradles your belly. the baby moves again. it’s still strong and alive.
relief floods you, but it’s followed quickly by fear.
because your hear them. those heavy footsteps echo down the corridor. too fast and way too purposeful.
the sliding doors slam open with enough force to rattle the entirre frame. sukuna stands there, all four beefy arms tense, crimson eyes blazing with immediate and lethal irritation. the mouth on his abdomen twists into a snarl before the one on his face even opens.
he takes one look at you on the floor, at the displaced cabinet, the way you clutch your wrist and the temperature in the room seems to drop.
“what,” he growls, “is the meaning of this, woman?”
you try to push yourself up. trying to make yourself seem presentable, “it’s nothing, my lord. i only—“
“do not.”
two of his arms move before you can finish. one massive hand catches your shoulder while the other slides beneath your knees. he lifts you as if you weigh nothing before carrying you to the thick futon piled with silks. the third hand hovers over your belly, not quite touching, while the fourth grips your injured wrist with surprising gentleness. though his expression promises murder.
you wince as he probes the swelling. a bruise is seemingly already blooming.
sukuna’s eyes narrow at the bruise on your wrist. something inside him twists, “you fell.”
“well, i reached for a scroll,” you admit quietly as you hold your head down in shame, “didn’t think—“
“yeah. you obviously didn’t think,” his voice is deceptively calm now. the kind of calm that precedes slaughter.
he sets your wrist down and rises to his full imposing height. the black tattoos shift across his skin as his muscles flex, “tsk. y’re crawling about like some reckless servant chasing trinkets, and look where that got ya.”
the air grows thick with that ominous cursed energy you’ve grown used to. outside in the gardens, you hear a distant scream. you swallow thickly. that was an unfortunate soul who was probably been lingering too close at the wrong moment.
sukuna doesn’t even glance toward the sound. his focus remains locked on you.
he kneels again, red eyes boring into yours. one hand cups your chin to tilt your face up, “do you have any idea what i would do to this entire fuckin’ country if you lost that child?”
your heart stutters.
you know he isn’t exaggerating. sukuna’s affection is a double edged blade. it’s obsessive, violent and all-consuming. you have seen villages erased for lesser offenses than inconveniencing his property.
“y-yes, but i’m alright,” you whisper, “the baby kicked just now. it’s still strong and kicking."
as if to prove it, another solid thump presses against your belly. sukuna’s big hand moves immediately, his warm palm spreading over the curve.
for a long moment there’s silence. then he exhales through his nose, a sound closer to a growl.
“you will not leave this chamber without my presence until the birth.” it isn’t a suggestion. “servants will bring you everything. if you desire a scroll, they will fetch it. if you desire the moon itself, they will bleed trying.”
you reach up with your good hand to brush fingers along one of his wrists. you tilt your head as you look up at him, “you’re angry.”
“furious.”
the word drips with venom. yet he lowers himself beside you on the futon, two arms pulling you carefully against his chest while the other two adjust pillows behind your back. the contrast is dizzying. his body radiates power and heat, capable of tearing mountains, but he handles you like a fragile thing.
“i should chain you to this bed,” sukuna mutters, lips brushing your temple, “perhaps then you’d stop testin’ me.”
a small smile tugs at your lips despite the dull ache in your wrist. “you’d miss my stubbornness too much,” you chuckle softly.
the king of curses huffs. the mouth on his stomach licks its lips, tasting the air—probably the lingering trace of your blood from a scraped elbow.
you lean into him and lett the solid bulk of his true form surround you. four arms are useful for this, at least. one idly strokes your hair, another rests over your belly, the third keeps your injured wrist elevated and the fourth simply holds you close.
minutes pass in comfortable silence. his cursed energy fluctuates wildly. you can feel the rage still simmering, but it’s more contained. you can feel it coiling around the room like invisible smoke, ready to lash out at the first person who enters.
a hesitant knock sounds at the door.
“enter,” sukuna barks.
a trembling servant girl slides the door open, carrying a tray of bandages and herbal salve. her eyes widen at the sight of sukuna holding you so intimately. she nearly drops everything.
“give it here,” he snaps while extending one arm without releasing you. the girl approaches on her knees, head bowed low, and places the tray within reach before scrambling back.
sukuna tends to your wrist himself.
his touch is precise, almost clinical, wrapping the linen with surprising care. every so often his gaze flicks to your face to check for discomfort. the fury hasn’t left his eyes, but it has shifted. it’s now directed outward. toward the world that has dared let you fall.
when he finishes, sukuna pulls you closer again. “if this swells worse by morning, i’ll flay the physician who attends you. slowly.”
you chuckle softly as exhaustion creeps in. too much happened in a small amount of time for your heavily pregnant self, “‘kay, noted.”
he stays like that long after your breathing evens out. sukuna rarely sleeps much, but tonight he remains vigilant and his hand never leaves your belly.
. . .
by the next morning, word has spread through the estate like wildfire. no one is to allow you out of the inner chambers without the king of curses’ permission.
extra guards patrol the halls. when a maid brings breakfast, she keeps her eyes on the floor and moves with exaggerated slowness, terrified of triggering his wrath.
you watch sukuna from the futon as he paces, big arms crossed in various combinations. he has already executed one overzealous attendant who suggested you might have ‘overexerted’ yourself earlier in the week. the body has been removed before you woke.
“ryo.. come here,” you call softly, trying carefully to calm that rage by using that nickname you made up for him. instead of the usual politeness.
sukuna pauses. then, with a reluctant grunt, he returns to your side. you take one of his large hands and place it back on your belly.
"feel it. he’s fine. we’re fine.”
sukuna’s expression remains stormy, but the tension in his shoulders eases fractionally, “if anythin’ changes...”
“‘you’ll destroy the world’. . . i know.”
a rare, sharp-toothed smirk tugs at his lips, “good. you’re learning.”
