your voice is weak and strained when your husband flops on top of you, his massive form draping over you and knocking the breath right from your lungs.
“mmn.” he just hums, burying his face in your neck, completely disregarding the fact that it feels like you’re being smushed by a boulder.
and he’s not oblivious to it either, he knows just how big he is. he’s proud of it, in fact. and he knows how much you love it.
well… besides for when he’s crushing you.
his arms are wrapped tight around you, securing you from all angles, while his body completely covers yours. six foot five and 250 pounds of pure muscle trapping you on the bed.
“babe, i’m being serious, get off. you’re killing me here.” you mutter, breathing heavily between words.
“shh. lemme rest.” sukuna replies, not able to care less. and he has the audacity to shush you. really?
“had a shitty day.” he adds lowly.
you exhale softly, defeated, and bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, stroking his hair. “okay. fine. a few more minutes.”
he shakes his head. “an hour.”
“do you want me to pass out?”
||a/n: sukuna version of this suguru drabble (well, kinda. they’re not actually that similar)
oml hubby!nanamin reminding you to breathe during smex!
sorry for such the long hiatus loves :((
“where do you feel me baby? tell me.” you nails dug into the back of the man currently fucking the shit out of you, to the point where you were incoherent. your thighs pressed against your sweat glazed torso, his hips harshly colliding with yours, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spots you have.
“mmm! n-hereeeee!” you weakly moved one of your hands to your womb. he smiles, kissing your lips and then making home on your sensitive neck. where his moans and groans went straight to your ear.
nanami makes LOVE. he never fucks.
he wants you to lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, always to the point where you’re overstimulated and almost can’t take it.
one thing nanami always noticed was how you don’t breathe whenever you guys have sex. it’s not like when you ask him to slightly choke you, or when he shifts his weight on top of you when you guys are in prone bone. it’s whenever you guys are intimate in general, he has to stop and remind you every time :(
“baby, baby. breathhhe.” he halts his hips, holding your face so your gaze is only focusing on him. not even a second passed and you’re gasping in and out, tears cradling down your brown cheeks. “there you go baby, there you go..” he slowly picks up his thrusts again, causing you to whine and whimper. trying your best not to fall into the habit of holding your breath again.
“m’gunna cuhmmm n-nana!” — “that’s my good girl. y-yeaa.” the knot in your stomach about to burst. his tip constantly hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. “it’s t’much!”
you whined. pushing against nanami’s abdomen, attempting to halt his thrusts for a moment. but he didn’t let up. “uh, uh baby. let out for me, let it out for your nana.” grabbing your wrists, and pinning it above your head.
the knot in your stomach snaps. squirting all over your husbands and thighs, coating them with your essence. it wasn’t too long until nanami reached his high. quickly pulling out and finishing on your stomach.
“did so good for me baby,” he lifted his hand from your wrist, using it to caress the side of your face.
♡ summary: satoru was sleeping so peacefully, you're sure he wouldn't mind!
♡ wc: 1.3k
♡ content warnings: fem! reader, sleeping gojo, non-penetrative, established relationship, groping, needy reader, somonophilia, guilt, reader is down bad.
♡ a/n: my man back from the military, I'm abt to go crazy ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎
Satoru especially loved having you like this— your body limp against the sheets, the delicate lace of your bra strap slipping down your arm, your breath slow and even in the quiet morning light.
The bed was massive, easily big enough for Satoru to stretch his long limbs without crowding you, yet somehow, he always managed to claim most of the space.
More often than not, you ended up teetering on the edge, one foot dangling off the mattress, half-covered by the tangled duvet. And if he hadn't somehow maneuvered you halfway off the bed, you were curled tightly against him; your leg slung over his torso, his arms locking you in place, pulling you impossibly closer until the lines between your bodies blurred. It was a perfect, chaotic tangle of limbs, warmth, and sleepy contentment.
The sunlight filtered through the gaps in your curtains, painting lazy stripes across the rumpled sheets and warming the curve of your shoulder. The room still carried traces of last night's clothes strewn across the floor, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the pillows, the memory of his hands roaming your skin.
Now, one of those same large palms splayed possessively over the small of your back, his fingers flexing slightly in his sleep, as if even unconscious, he needed to reassure himself you were still there. It was a warmth you wouldn't trade for anything.
This morning was no different. You lay there, counting Satoru's unfairly long lashes, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. It was peaceful-adorable, even if not for the very present issue nudging insistently against your thigh. His morning wood pressed dangerously close to your core, and though you'd hoped it would fade after a few minutes, ten had passed with no such luck.
Satoru was a deceptively still sleeper. Aside from the occasional shift or half-conscious tug to reel you back in, he rarely stirred. But his sheer size left you perpetually fighting for space. It was rare for you to wake before him; he didn't sleep much, but when he did, he crashed hard. Once, he'd slept fourteen hours straight and hadn't even realized it. Right now, his arms were bands of steel around you, and you hesitated to move, afraid even a twitch might rouse him. But the persistent pressure against your panties was making it very difficult to focus on the sweetness of the moment.
Cautiously, you slid your arm out from under his neck, biting back a groan as you plotted your escape. Every movement was calculated— shifting your hips just enough to ease the tension, inching your leg back from where it was trapped beneath his. You held your breath as you finally freed your right arm, only to freeze at the low, throaty noise Satoru made in response. Shit.
The sunlight caught the platinum strands of his hair, gilding them like spun gold, and it only emphasized the defined muscles of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. For a wild second, you considered sinking your teeth into his shoulder-just to see if he'd wake up tasting like salt and sleep. But you forced the thought aside. Focus.
You worked his fingers loose from your waist one by one, ready to push his hand aside and reclaim those precious few inches of mattress.
But the second you tried to slip away, his grip tightened reflexively, dragging you back-closer this time. And in the process, his cock slid firmly against your clit, the thin barriers of fabric doing nothing to dull the friction. A gasp tore from your lips before you could stifle it, and you clenched your thighs together as Satoru shifted again, effortlessly rolling you halfway on top of him.
You glanced at his face-still slack with sleep, his breathing deep and even. Now, you were practically straddling him, your damp panties pressed flush to his hips. Defeated, you let yourself relax against him, surrendering to the heat pooling low in your stomach. You needed a shower anyway.
His arms adjusted in his sleep, loosening just enough to settle around your lower back, his fingers brushing the waistband of your panties.
You exhaled shakily, torn between frustration and reluctant arousal. The warmth of his body beneath you was intoxicating, and the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest only made it worse. His cock was still pressed insistently against you, and now that you were fully straddling him, the friction was impossible to ignore.
Biting your lip, you shifted experimentally, rolling your hips just enough to feel him against your clit again. A quiet sigh escaped you, and you did it again, slower this time, savoring the way the fabric dragged against your sensitive nerves. Satoru remained still, his breathing steady, his grip on you lax-completely unaware.
Emboldened, you rocked against him in slow, deliberate motions, your thighs tensing as pleasure coiled tighter in your core. You kept your movements subtle, careful not to wake him, but the heat building between your legs made it hard to stay quiet. Every drag of his cock against you sent sparks up your spine, and instinctively you breathed in his scent, your nose burying in his shoulder.
The layers between you, fabric, restraint, and his oblivious sleep felt like a cruel tease. You wanted more. The heat of his bare skin against yours, the friction of his hips meeting yours without barriers. You were starting to understand why he disliked it when you wore anything more than his clothes or underwear to bed.
A frustrated whine caught in your throat as you rocked down again, your clit throbbing, your body aching for the press of his palm against your lower back, dragging you closer. You imagined his fingers slipping beneath your waistband, calloused and sure, finally giving you the contact you'd been chasing. The fantasy alone made your next roll of your hips stutter, your breath coming faster.
It didn't take long before the tension snapped suddenly, your body shuddering as you came, your fingers digging into his chest to steady yourself. You held your breath, praying he wouldn't stir, but just as the last waves of pleasure ebbed, he let out a loud snore.
Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized what you’d just done. It's not like he hasn't eaten you out while you were asleep, but this was different. He would never let you live it down. You can just imagine the things he would say, God forbid his ego gets any bigger than it already is.
Mortification burned through you. With a sharp inhale, you scrambled off the bed, your legs unsteady beneath you. The sheets tangled around your ankles in your haste, nearly tripping you as you bolted for the bathroom. Heart pounding, half-expecting him to wake and catch you in the act. But he didn’t stir, his breathing deep and even, one arm flung carelessly over the space where you’d just been.
—
You were scrambling eggs a little too aggressively when his arms slid around your waist from behind, his chest pressing warm against your back. His lips brushed the curve of your ear as he murmured, voice still thick with sleep, “Morning.”
The spatula nearly slipped from your grip. “Morning,” you managed, keeping your eyes fixed on the pan.
He hummed, nuzzling into your hair. “Slept like a rock.” A pause. “Best sleep I’ve had in…a while,” his hand tightened just slightly on your hips, his thumbs tracing idle circles.
“Don't leave so early, the bed gets cold without you,” he whined, but you could feel the grin on his lips on your shoulder.
i. you’re standing outside a convenience store because satoru’s body refuses to go six hours without eating something sweet (read: two handfuls worth of snacks) so there you are, bored—waiting for him to stop flirting with the cashier (old lady, 72, loving it).
he’s really taking forever. you scroll on your phone, suddenly remembering the pack to grab spearmint gum in your bag. it’s something to do. you grab it, pop a piece in your mouth, and think nothing of it.
big mistake.
you’re mid-chew, texting, when you feel satoru materialize behind you. that and the rustling of his plastic bags give him away . his chin hooks over your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.
“gum?”
you nod, not looking up. “yeah. want a piece?”
“mm.” his voice drops. “already have one.”
before you can ask what that means, satoru’s hand cups your jaw—gentle and firm—and turns your face toward him. he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t warn. he just leans in.
he kisses you slow and deliberate. you reciprocate after a moment, a motion mostly on instinct, which ends up giving him the right access. his tongue slides past your lips, not to deepen it, but to sweep.
satoru coaxes the gum from your mouth with an infuriatingly skilled curl of his tongue, pulling it into his own mouth with a soft, wet sound that has no right to make your stomach feel that way.
he pulls back and chews, his dimples showing as an unapologetic grin spreads across his face.
“mint,” he hums, like he’s tasting a fine wine. “good choice.”
you’re frozen, face burning and brain short-circuiting.
he plucks the slick gum from his own mouth and presses it back to your lips with two fingers. “open.”
you do. pathetically.
satoru pushes it past your teeth, taps your chin to close your mouth, and pats your cheek like you’re a good pet.
“now we match,” he says sweetly. “shared flavor. shared spit. shared everything.”
then he turns, waves at the cashier, and strolls out of the store front like he didn’t just ruin you in public.
ii. later during dinner, you both are eating something disgustingly sticky together—honey-glazed chicken wings and melted s'mores, because satoru having zero self-control around sugar is nothing new.
your hands are messy. his hands are a crime scene.
you see him eyeing your hoodie. that soft, oversized, perfect fit that you love more than life itself.
“don’t.”
satoru freezes, hand hovering. eyes wide and innocent.
“don’t what?”
“don’t wipe those fingers on me, satoru. i swear to god—”
satoru gasps, offended. “i'd never.”
you stare. satoru holds your gaze. too long. then, with the exaggerated deliberation of a man performing a magic trick, he slowly—so slowly—wipes both hands down the front of his own white t-shirt.
dark streaks bloom across the fabric. he looks down at the mess, then back up at you.
“see?” he beams. “respectful. courteous. boyfriend of the year.”
you blink. “you literally just ruined your shirt.”
“my sacrifice.” he clutches his chest dramatically. “anything for you, my love. i would never defile your sacred hoodie. i would rather die.”
then he opens his arms wide.
“now. hug.”
“no.”
“hug.”
“satoru, your entire front is—”
satoru doesn’t wait. he lunges, wraps his sticky, honey-drenched, s'more-crusted arms around you and squeezes. his open palms find your back. your shoulders. you try to save your hair.
you feel the tacky residue transfer. everywhere.
when he finally takes mercy and pulls back, both the front and back is a disaster of regret. and he’s grinning as if he contributed to your life in such a meaningful way.
“looks good,” satoru says, tucking a sticky strand of hair behind your ear as you continue to scowl. he inspects the honey smeared across your hoodie with genuine satisfaction.
♯ nerd!satoru who was beyond irritated. you’d spent the entire night whining and demanding his attention without an ounce of shame, leaving him running on zero sleep before his final the next day. and who would've guessed? your actions have consequences! twt link
satoru didn't look like the class genius right now. his glasses were pushed up haphazardly on his head, his white hair a mess, and his eyes, those piercing, crystalline eyes, were narrowed with a cold, focused irritation. he stood over you, his silhouette looming large against the living room light, while you lay sprawled on the couch, completely exposed and trembling.
he didn't waste time with gentleness either. the moment he snatched you into his dorm room, he had grabbed your thighs, hauling your legs back with a sudden, forceful jerk. your knees were shoved up toward your chest, satoru pinning your lower body in a position that left you wide open and utterly vulnerable.
"a seventy," he spat, his voice low. "i have never seen a number that low on a piece of paper in my entire life. do you have any idea how pathetic a seventy is for me?"
"t—toru— i’m—"
"shut up," he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of anger and lust. "you spent the whole night distracting me! every time i tried to focus on the molecular bonds, you were touching me, whining for attention, making sure i couldn't think about anything but how much i wanted to fuck you dumb."
there was nothing rhythmic or sensual about his thrusts. it was a pounding, punishing pace. he hammered into you, his hips colliding with yours with a loud, wet slap that echoed through the room. each thrust was designed to drive the point home, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that made your vision blur.
"i— i'm s-s—" you tried to choke out an apology, but as he lunged forward again, the force of the impact snapped your head back. the words died in your throat, replaced by a high-pitched, broken moan.
"you’re what? you’re sorry?" satoru sneered, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, though he didn't stop the brutal assault of his hips. "sorry doesn't fix my gpa, baby. sorry doesn't erase the fact that i failed to maintain my perfect streak because you couldn't keep your hands off me."
he gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, bruising you as he held you locked in that folded position. he accelerated, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy with a violent friction. god, the sound was graphic; the squelch of lubrication and the heavy thud of his body slamming against yours.
"aww, look at you," he cooed, watching your face contort in a mix of pleasure and overwhelming intensity. "you love this, don't you? you love knowing you ruined my grade, and now you get to take my big dick for it!"
you tried to speak again, your lips trembling, wanting to tell him how much you loved him, how sorry you were, but every time you opened your mouth, he delivered another blow. you voice was reduced to incoherent whimpers and shattered breaths. you were shaking, your muscles twitching under the onslaught of his pace.
"i’m going to make sure you remember this every time you think about distracting me again," satoru groaned, his pace becoming frantic, almost feral. “you're going to take every inch of this, yeah? you're going to feel exactly how pissed off i am."
he let out a low, guttural growl, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more violent. he was bottoming out inside you, stretching you to your limit, driving you deeper into the couch. you could only cling to the fabric of the cushions, your fingers clawing at the material as you were bounced relentlessly.
"tell me," he commanded, his voice straining as he neared his peak. "tell me you're a distraction— fuck!— tell me you're a little brat who deserves to be fucked like this.”
you tried to scream it, to give him what he wanted, but a particularly deep thrust hit a spot that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire spine. your eyes rolled back, your jaw dropping open in a silent scream of ecstasy as your walls clamped tight around. as he slammed into you again, the impact sending a shockwave through your core, you managed to find a sliver of your voice.
"t— toru— please," you whimpered, your head tossing from side to side on the cushion. "slow— slow down— mmmh! please, just a little—“
satoru let out a small scoff, his cock buried deep in your soaking heat. he looked down at you, seeing your flushed face, your blown out pupils, and the way your body was trembling under his weight. a slow, smug grin spread across his lips, and he let out a soft laugh that vibrated in his chest.
"slow down? y’want me to slow down, angel?" he echoed, his voice a raspy, dangerous purr.
he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, and let out a small, needy moan that shifted into a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. the sound was jarring coming from him, a brief lapse in his control that only highlighted how much he was enjoying this.
"you think i’m done with you already?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.
"i’m just getting started,” he snickered once more upon your disheveled appearance, “a seventy is a disaster, and you're going to feel every single point i lost."
without warning, he gripped your thighs even tighter, hauling your knees even closer to your chest until you were practically folded in half. he didn't slow down, instead, he shifted his angle, driving back into you with a renewed, savage intensity.
the sound of his hips slamming against yours returned with a violent slap, the wet squelch of your pussy gripping his thick dick echoing through the quiet room. he began to hammer into you again, faster than before, his movements relentless.
“satoruuu!—” you yelped, crying out, “you’re so— nnghh!— so big— don’t stop! pleasepleaseplease—”
"beg me to slow down again— i dare you," he whimpered, his voice thick with arousal as he pounded into your cervix.
"i wanna hear you beg while i fuck the apology right out of you."
second post of the day because i just HAD to write for this man 👅👅👅 he is irresistible.
cw: daddy kink (but NOT in an ageplay way!) , reader’s dad is an asshole
more like this
You sort of hate your dad.
Gojo definitely hates your dad.
You’d mentioned the hate offhandedly once, early into your relationship. half-asleep and sitting at the kitchen counter in one of Gojo’s oversized shirts as your feet dangle in the air. Gojo had handed you a glass full of iced coffee, but you didn’t grab it tightly enough and it shattered across the tiles, coffee and ice cubes spilling across the floor. “I’m sorry-“ you panicked immediately, searching for a cloth to mop up the mess, “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-“
“Hey, hey,” he’d frowned, “what’s wrong? It’s just a glass. I’ll buy, like, twelve more anyway.”
“Oh.” You’d flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just a response, I guess. My, uh, my dad used to get really mad and yell if I spilt or broke anything. I kind of… don’t like him that much. Sorry if that’s kinda weird, I know I’m probably supposed to like my own dad.”
Gojo blinked slowly, blue eyes narrowed. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said reassuringly, drawing slow circles over your lower back. He looked down at you, still nervously staring at the coffee on the floor like you were ready to cry over it and prepare yourself to be yelled at- and he decided from that day onward that he really, really hates your dad too.
He does it subtly, though. Like the first time he met your dad over dinner at your shared apartment, Gojo’s plate piled high with the myriad of homecooked dishes you’d spent the full day making, including dessert. “This is amazing,” he smiled at you, before turning to your dad. “Don’t you think?”
Your dad nods. “It’s… good. Pass me the salt, please, sweetheart?” You snap up, reaching across to the other side of the table, and your arm crosses atop your dad’s plate in the process. “Don’t be rude,” he snaps lowly, “you know you don’t reach over people’s food. Didn’t I teach you better?”
You smile, tight-lipped and agitated. “Sorry, dad.”
Gojo prods at his salad extra harshly, dressing splashing onto the tomatoes, then casually manages to mention the price of everything in the apartment within the next five minutes as your dad shrinks back while his masculinity is damaged more and more. Gojo waves him off cheerily after an awkward dessert, then sticks his tongue out at the door after it swings shut. You snort, stacking plates next to the soapy sink. “Don’t be immature, Satoru.”
“He’s the immature one.” He rolls his eyes, helping you wash up. “Acting so self righteous,” he hums, kissing your forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t turn out like him, what can I say?”
Gojo treats you so gently it’s embarrassing sometimes, him cooing into your ear about how perfect you are and how you’re easily his favourite thing. Him brushing your hair softly into braids when you’re too tired to do it yourself, him ensuring you feel calm enough around him to shatter a plate onto the tiles and not immediately apologise.
He calms you down when you cry, wrapping you in his strong arms and rocking you back and forth as he lets you know there’s nothing wrong with you. He hates the fact somebody ever made you feel like that in the first place, that there’s something not quite right about you that needs to be fixed. Gojo takes you everywhere, to all the museums your dad wouldn’t and buys you the little trinkets your dad called a stupid waste of space.
Gojo adores watching you get excited around him, too.
“Oh my god, Toru,” you squeal excitedly, “look, look, it’s the exact one I wanted-“ you beam, proudly showing him the little animal keychain you just opened from a blind box. “Oh my gosh, she’s so cute,” you gush, pressing him to look at the little bunny’s fuzzy ears and her tiny dress. “I love her-“
“Yeah?” He smiles, taking your hand in his much larger one. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”
He revels secretly in knowing he makes you feel so safe you can be like this, that it isn’t embarrassing and your emotions won’t be ignored or dismissed with passive-aggressive eye rolls. “Well,” you grin, clipping the bunny onto your house keys where she rests alongside a plethora of other trinkets. “She’s sort of rare. Although, not the rarest, because there’s a secret option you could get too but that one is a bear, and honestly I think it’s not as cute as the bunny so-“
You go on like this for ages, babbling on and practically talking your boyfriend’s ear off as you walk around the local park with his hand in your left and a cute drink he paid for in your right. “Anyway,” you shrug, sipping your drink, “I think the cat is overrated. She’s cute, but why put her in dungarees? She’d look cuter with a parasol, I think. Oh,” you say suddenly, a little embarrassed, “I’m not- I'm not boring you, right?”
Gojo grins brightly and squeezes your hand tighter. “You could never bore me, pretty. Keep going.”
Gojo could sit there for days and listen to you talk about nothing and everything, feet up on his lap as you complain about the latest subplot in your new show. He genuinely listens, asks follow up questions, never once makes you feel awkward or embarrassed for caring about something so trivial.
You’re sat at the counter again over a year after the coffee incident, your shoulder slipping out of the worn neck of Gojo’s old Digimon shirt while your finger draws shapes on the smooth marble beside the fruitbowl.
“Toru, I was thinking, that new bakery opened up down the street yesterday and I know you love sweets-“
Gojo whirls around from the fridge, gasps loudly, and stares at you like you just personally offended his whole lineage. “Toru?”
You frown, confused. “Uh, yes? Isn’t that your name-“
“Nooo,” he grins, walking over to you, “use my other nickname.”
“Baby?” You say nervously. Is there an inside joke you’re forgetting?
“Nope.” He grins evilly, lips brushing your ear. “I liked the one you came up with last night, angel.”
You blush, scandalised, and shove futilely at his chest. Truly, it was an accident, just a little slip of the tongue in a moment of extreme horniness you wish you could snap right back up from his memory.
Your bare tits had been firmly pressed into the dishevelled sheets, marks covering the sensitive skin; Gojo was behind you, big hands carefully holding onto your hips and sliding up to squeeze your waist briefly as your back arched further.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He murmurs, hips delving deeply into your dipping cunt. “Come on, let me hear those cute little sounds I love.” He coos next to your ear.
Your answering response is a garbled moan, a squeaky whimper that draws itself embarrassingly from your lips even despite the pillow shoved into your face. “Yeah,” he whispers, “let me make you feel good, baby. You deserve it all, yeah? Just lie there and take it like the good girl you are, okay?”
Gojo’s voice is as sweet as sugar, coos dripping down into your ears and intoxicating your body so much you truly can’t think of anything else other than the way he’s fucking into you, sliding so deeply and so fully it makes your eyes roll back and your fingers weakly grip the sheets.
“Daddy-“ you choke.
You freeze, hot embarrassment flushing your face as you bury it into the pillows in an attempt to pretend that did not just happen and you did not just call your boyfriend ‘daddy’ like a degenerate pervert freak.
Gojo freezes too, thick cock halfway into your pulsing heat, hands paused on your hips. And then, the biggest grin he’s ever produced cracks glowingly across his face. “What was that, pretty?”
“Nothing.” You say into the pillow, voice muffled. “I didn’t s-say anything.”
“Oh noooo, I think you did, actually.” Your boyfriend gloats happily, his voice singsong, “say it again, or I’m not moving.”
“No!” You cry frustratedly as he starts to slowly slip his dick back out, “okay, fuck, fine.”
Your face burns as your lips open again, voice quiet. “...Daddy.”
“Daddy what?” You’re glad you can’t see his face, but you know exactly what sort of shit-eating grin is plastered along his beautiful face. “Satoru-“
“No, gorgeous, I want you to say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”
You’re almost sick with humiliation, but it stirs something else along with the embarrassment coiling in your tummy. “Please fuck me, daddy.” You say quietly, eyes screwed up like you can pretend you aren’t getting off on the words slipping from your mouth.
Gojo starts moving again, and you squeal as he magically manages to ram every one of your sweet spots in one stroke. “Fuck, baby,” he pants, “I didn’t know you were into that.”
Your moan cracks on a sob. “I didn’t know y-you were into that!”
“Oh, my shy girl,” Gojo croons, kissing your back. “I love anything that comes out of your mouth, you sound so hot saying that, so filthy and worked up for me.” He laughs breathlessly as you shudder and clench around him. “Aww, baby, are you gonna cum for daddy now?”
“Stop-“ you choke, “don’t say it like th-that-“
It’s no use, Gojo just keeps taunting you with it.
“Is daddy going hard enough for you, pretty?”
“So cute stretched out for daddy.”
“Are you gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”
That last one sends you over the edge, the taboo of it all making your head spin and your legs tremble as Gojo collapses right after you, spilling so much cum it manages to overflow right onto the sheets and into his mouth as he drops to his knees to worship you.
Your face burns as you sit at the counter, the memory harsh in your head. “Stop,” you whine, “I didn’t mean to say it, stop.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” Gojo chortles, kissing your temple. “Do it again later?”
You groan and drop your forehead onto the counter.
He’ll bring it up at the most inappropriate times, too, like when you’re on a date and he’ll casually whisper it into your ear until you’re flushing. “Toru, stop with that, we’re in an aquarium.” You protest, walking towards the rockpool exhibit. “I’m not calling you that here.”
The worst time he’s ever done it was when you were storming back to your car after an awkward dinner with your dad where he managed to passive aggressively comment on your outfit, tone of voice, and facial expression in the space of an hour. “I hate him.” You say angrily as Gojo puts his hands onto the steering wheel to drive off. “He’s such an egotistical, self-centred, immature, dickheaded, insensitive-“
“He is.” Gojo soothes, flicking the playlist in the car to one of your favourite songs and the ac up to cool you down as you continue to mindlessly rage about your dad as the city lights flash by the windows of the car.
“But it’s a good job you’ve got a better daddy here, righhhhhtttt?” He grins, patting your thigh. You gasp, scandalised, and swat at his toned arm. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t just say that-“
He grins again. “You just have issues that manifest themselves psychosexually, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” You glare at him. “Oh, so now I have issues just because I like to call you daddy sometimes? Don’t act like you weren’t into me slapping you last week, why don’t we talk about your psychosexual issues, Satoru-“
Gojo laughs, hands in his expensive pockets, as you scold him the whole way to your living room. You’re still muttering silent curses when he tugs you into his arms and kisses your scalp. “I was joking about the issues,” he says, “I know you were pissed. And you should be, you have a right to be. I hate your dad too.”
You sigh and bury your face into his bicep. “I know you do.”
masterlist
a/n: okay mini hiatus for my holiday over! Have a lovely week <3
pda obsessed!choso who is always looking for an excuse to kiss you. he'll wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your shoulders, your neck, and even your arms and hands if you aren't using them. he'll do it even as you're checking out your groceries at the supermarket, ignoring the disgusted stares of the cashier and other customers.
pda obsessed!choso who will pull you to sit on his lap when you're hanging out with your group of friends. he loves to rub circles into your hips or your thighs and stare up at you while you talk to everyone else, completely enamoured by your beauty. the second you're done talking he'll lean up and shamelessly make out with you, tongue and all. he'll make out with you for as long as he likes and doesn't care that he's pulled you out of an active conversation.
pda obsessed!choso who walks with his hand in the back pocket of your jeans because he loves the feeling of your ass rubbing against his hand. he doesn't take his hand away even when you stop walking and stand still to check your phone and instead gropes and squeezes your butt with both hands. you try and push him away out of embarassment but his grip is too strong so you just let him squeeze to his hearts content.
pda obsessed!choso puts his arms around your shoulders and gropes your tits while you wait in queues. he does it so often that you hardly even notice when he slides his hands into your bra and starts squeezing. it's only when he begins rolling your nipple between his fingers that you squeal and slap his hand away, and he switches to kissing your exposed skin instead.
pda obssesed!choso just wants to touch you constantly. whether it be holding your hand, petting your head or groping you, he's happy as long as his hands are on you.
a/n: this is my first tumblr post so i hope its good lol
you’re well aware that your relationship with satoru isn’t exactly normal. people seem to think you have no clue, but you’ve never been ignorant. for all the casual jokes and whining clinginess, you can tell your boyfriend is deeply, possessively in love with you.
it shows in everything he does. satoru likes to hide it behind a veneer of playfulness. you don’t mind. in all reality, you find it pretty cute—the doting, the teasing, the silly jokes that all veil that intense want that lurks in him. he wants you so bad it’s impossible to ignore. no, more than that: he needs you so much it bleeds into everything he does.
he’s teasing when he winds an arm around your waist, joking when he drops his chin on your head and pulls you away from whoever you were talking to. there’s a casual, unspoken jealousy to the action, but he’s so good at pretending it’s just gojo being clingy. it’s just what everyone expects of him. you’re the only one that knows better. you can see the angry glint in his eye, hear the way satoru’s heart picks up in his chest every time you reciprocate. you’re the only one he lets past infinity, the reason he’s been working to make it cover you as well. he just can’t bear to see other people touching you—you don’t blame him, do you?
best of all, you’re the only one that sees him desperate, that gets to watch him unwind. he worships you. you don’t have sex as much as you make love, his hands roving your body and plucking sweet moans from between your lips. satoru will murmur as he takes you, voice unbearably vulnerable and unspeakably intimate. “no one else can make you feel like this, baby,” he says on a moan. on the next, quiet and sure, “even better, i’m the only one that gets to see you like this. they don’t even know what they’re missing out on. i won’t let them ever find out.” he holds you tightly, kisses you ardently, and if you let him, he’ll fuck you until his legs give out. until he has no more love left to give.
so maybe you’re a little too encouraging. so what? who cares if you let your gaze linger on another man just to watch satoru’s eyes sharpen? what does it matter if you’ll play ignorant to another man’s advances, just to revel in the way satoru steps in and stakes his territory?
sex like that is even better. satoru gets mad, possessive—not at you, never at you. but your entire body becomes a canvas for him to stake his claim on, and it makes him rough. he’ll grip you until you bruise, kiss you until your lip splits, fuck you deep and hard so that you wake up the next morning sore, just so he can dote on you all over again.
“he’s so needy,” utahime complains to you one day, after he’d dragged you home from an event. he’d claimed he just wanted you all to himself for a moment, to get away from such boring company. it’s more honest than everyone suspects. he really does hate to see you talking to other people. “he wants to leave, and you leave. he hates when you talk to other guys. i swear, whenever you’re not paying attention to him, it’s like the sun’s frozen over. and then he has to act up until you’re looking at him again. how can you handle a guy that clingy?”
“i think it’s cute,” you reply. “i like how much he likes me. makes me feel like i’m the only girl in the world, you know?”
utahime snorts. “he sure seems to think so. remember last week? it’s like he didn’t even realise that girl was flirting with him.”
he hadn’t. or maybe he had, and satoru simply revels in your jealousy as much as you do his. you’d attached yourself to him like a limpet, fingers curling around his bicep as your head leant against his shoulder. you were polite to a fault until you chased her off, so clingy that satoru couldn’t tear his eyes away. in the end, he’d barely said three words to the girl before you monopolised all of his attention. he’d grinned wide and proud, and been twice as clingy as you were thereafter.
(when you got home, well. you’d been on top, riding him to a slow climax while he stared up at you worshipfully. his thumbs rub circles into your thighs, and with every rock of your hips, he lets loose an unabashed groan. he’s so free in his pleasure, so open about how good you make him feel. satoru never lets you doubt how perfect you are for him.
he comes first, for once. heaves and whines into your mouth even as he tells you to keep going, tells you that i’m sorry i want you so bad, baby. that doesn’t mean you need to stop—take me for all i’ve got, kay? he whispers those promises until you follow him over the edge, curled on top of him and breathing deep against his collarbone.
“you’ll never leave me, will you?” he asks, except he doesn’t say it like a question. he says it like a vow.
“never,” you promise. “you’d be dead before i let you get rid of me.”)
𓂃✍︎ 18+ mdni · in which sukuna asks you to sit on him
"This is ridiculous!"
"Woman! You're being ridiculous!"
"Keep talking to me like that, and you just won't have it then!" You scream indignantly, looking past your bare stomach, from underneath your bush, and just enough to see his glare piercing straight at you.
"Let me eat you out. Look at yourself! You're already so wet for me. So, just sit for —" Sukuna sighs sharply, unknowingly sending a warm bubble of air directly against your clit.
The sudden wave of heat quickly encompasses you, and you instinctively clamp your knees against his ears, buckling down hard to his mouth, effectively cutting a poetry of curses from Sukuna.
"Oh, shit!" You squawk, immediately raising yourself. "Why the fuck would you even do that!"
"Is it my fault you're the sensitive one? Do it again. I like it. Come here." He positions you back in place, your cunt directly above his mouth, and your clit torturously erect when he flicks it.
"No, wait!"
"You can't kill me, that'll be stupid even for a curse like me." He pushes your hands away when you try to grab a fistful of his hair and yank him down to the pillows.
"J-Just, hold on!"
You've been in this position for the past fifteen minutes, debating with yourself if he should just eat you out because seeing his heated gaze straight to your clit and your breathless cunt being pried wide open with his fingers, looking intently for any signs of your release flowing out, is enough for you to come at this sensation alone.
But the thing is that you're simply nervous because it hasn't been long since he first ate you out, and while it was new and so fucking good, you're still embarrassed about the whole prospect of it.
"I just need . . ." you prep yourself up, "I get ticklish when I think too much about it."
"There's hardly anything you think about these days, and you have to think right now?"
"Shut the fuck up, or I'm walking out of here."
"Baby," he calls a little gentler, though it doesn't sound any different than how he would curse another, "just sit. Please."
"Oh?" You manage to entice a chuckling tease, "You never say please that way."
"For fuck's sake, you're being too unrea — mmphh!"
18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
ever since satoru got braces, it's been difficult for the two of you.
you had to endure with his whining and groaning on how much it hurt constantly & those stupid things got in the way of everything. "gotta go baby, the club is holding a meeting right now." he leaned down for the usual goodbye kiss, only for him to accidentally cut your bottom lip.
he watched in horror when the smallest amount of blood oozed out. "oh my god!" he gasped, wiping it away as you winced. "im so sorry im sorry!"
if you thought the lack of kisses to prevent more cutting, imagine how hard it was to not get eaten out like always.
"toru.." you sighed, adjusting yourself on his thigh, suddenly feeling the effects of ovulation taking over. "yea sweets?" he looked down at your through his glasses before looking back up at his computer screen. his hand moved in muscle memory, jotting down formulas from memory.
"are you almost done studying? I need you."
a sigh fell from his lips, trying to stop himself from melting at the wya your head tucked into the crook of his neck. you could faintly feel the incoming of a stubble tickle your cheek. "we don't have any condoms. I forgot to stop by the store for some."
"I dont want your dick today," you licked a stripe on his jawline. "I want your mouth."
that certainly got his brow to raise, because surely you didn't forget the last time he tried eating you out. "are you shaven?"
"..no" you pursed your lips. "babe please please pleaseeee!"
"nuh uh, as much as I love your bush, I do not want to spend my Saturday night picking out pubes from my teeth." you were about to accept fate before a lightbulb turned on in your head. "why don't you just eat me out through my panties?"
⋮
"are these the ones I got you?" he dragged his finger down your clothed cunt, making you have a camel toe after sticking your panties into your folds. "Victorias secret right?"
you nodded, whining when he touched your clit.
"fuck, I want to taste you so bad." he pouted. satoru didn't get his braces off until next year, so you still had a long way to go. "this will do though." he finally closed in, lapping at your cunt through the now drenched underwear.
"satoru!" you moaned out, throwing your head onto the pillow, tangling your fingers into his hair. "shit.. can still taste ya so well like this." he rubbed your thighs lovingly, encouraging you to grind against his face.
your hips stuttered with every movement, gasping when he delivered a smack to your hip. "don't stop." his voice coming out muffled, too busy stuffing his face in between your legs. his nose pressed deliciously at your clit, forcing an orgasm right out of you. "that's all it took to make you cum?" satoru pulled away, rubbing your puffy folds, spreading around your juices.
he pulled your panties to the side, leaning back down to lap you up.
"satoru wait!-"
you yelped when his braces unfortunately got caught in your bush. ".... dang it."
summary: dumb texts that i wrote bc the pickleball msg did actually come to me in a dream
warnings: fem!reader (names like mama, wife, etc.), sexual humor, mean gf behavior (but they love each other it’s okay she’s a tsundere), idk cursing?, maybe toxic behavior? they're both just weirdos tbh
a/n: idk just enjoy this or don’t these r stupid anyway.. just wanted to put smth out there for yall to munch on
thinking about bf! sukuna struggling to apologise with words after a small argument... he's not too good in putting his feelings into words so he does the next best thing...acts of service.
Specifically through making a fruit bowl for you.
Cheesy, he knows, but it's the one of the ways he wants to make it up to you.
One second you're busy at your desk, typing away at your laptop before you feel a shadow behind you. without turning around a platter of fruits are placed next to you as well as with a glass of water. the plate is colourful with strawberries, mangos, bananas, cherries, apples, oranges, pears, kiwis and more of your favourites.
you raise a brow, some of these fruits aren't even in season right now so you wonder how in the hell Sukuna managed to get his hands on any of these.
'how did you get these?' you chew on a sliced apple.
he merely shrugs, 'top secret.'
'right....'
a silence passes between the two of you, sukuna awkwardly standing next to you. you can sense he has something to ask you before he leaves, you want to ask what is it but remain silent out of fear of pressurising him.
it's okay though because he finally gets round to it.
'are you still mad at me?'
ah there it is.
you hum, looking down at the perfectly organised array of fruit.
'mhmmm, not anymore thank you 'kuna' you allow him to lean down so you can finally place a kiss on his lips, a kiss that he has long awaited for.
'finally, thought you were never going to speak to me again.' he mumbles once he pulls away. you pat him on the cheek with a giggle, 'you did good 'kuna'
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