The first time you gave your boyfriend a blowjob he almost broke up with you.
It was your first relationship, and Suguru had rightfully assumed that you were a virgin. But the second your tongue touched his cock, had him questioning your innocence. With your mouth on him, fists clenched against the couch cushions, he threw his head back, reflecting on your behavior in the first few months of your new relationship.
He remembered how your palms would get sweaty when he would hold your hand for a long time. You would pull away and wipe it against your leg with a shy laugh, and Suguru would just quietly reach for it again.
You would turn away and stutter if he looked at you for too long, your cheeks burning a furious shade of red. And although you still blush now, it was nowhere near as bright as it was in those first few weeks of newly being his girlfriend.
Your first kiss with him, you accidentally bit him. The two of you pulling away, both wincing, he in pain and you in embarrassment. He laughed at your shocked face, pulling you back with a firm grip on your waist, whispering reassurances amid his soft pecks.
The first time he was on top of you with his shirt halfway off and his arm stuck through the hole, you put a hand to his chest and told him that you wanted to go slow. Suguru smiled and spent the rest of the night with soft kisses against your lips, quietly assuming that you were a virgin with no experience.
Albeit you never told him your sexual history outright, only that this was your first real relationship. He didn't care about your past; grateful to you that you never judged him on his own warped, slightly slutty past. He was the last person to have any authority over the morals of past relationships.
He only ever wanted to simply be with you; the night was slowly forgotten as your both slowly walked the new path of this relationship together.
The memories of the last few months together vanished when he felt you moan around his cock, his hips jumping when your hand began stroking him at the base.
He was pissed off right now if he's being honest right now, his fingers relaxed from their clenched form, now stroking your hair back while your other hand began playing with his balls as you took more of him down your mouth
Sinking deeper into these memories, he remembers how, despite the first kiss incident, your tongue just knew how to move against his. You knew how to tug on his hair and how sensually your hips grinded against his bulge in the most sinful way. He tucked his face into your neck, flipping you over, tummy down, and Suguru straddling your thighs so that he was on top, pinning you to the couch, trying to figure out a way to get to the bathroom without you noticing the wet stain on his grey sweats.
No other girl has ever made him cum in his pants before you.
He doesn't know if he wants to rip you off his cock demanding an explanation of why you're so good with your tongue or push his hips towards his face and cum down your throat.
You're looking up at him, eyes wide and expecting, watching his reactions. Your hand is wrapped around him, twerking it as your tongue dances around his shaft. The other is playing with his balls. Palming them in a way that makes his hip jerk forward, every twitch making him believe you had done this before. For someone else.
For someone who's not him.
It takes all of suguru’s strength to not grab both sides of your face and just fuck your face althought you’re probably used to that-
“Fuck” he groans, pushing your head down, focusing on his pleasure and willing the thoughts of you in the same position for another. You gag around him, eyes bulging at the sudden force. Spit trickling down your throat, and all Suguru can think about is how he wants his cum to leak down your chin.
He was pissed imagining some other man-no, boy, getting to see you like this.
Your jaw is loose and your eyes are wide, looking up at him like he held the sun. He notices the wetness around your eyes, which are filled with such tenderness that his hips can't stop pushing his cock deeper down your throat. He wanted to make you forget those boys. Who fucked you, whose fingers were inside of you, and whose tongue were in your mouth.
God, was it Satoru? You got closer to him, and he remembers you laughing at something he said last week. Or was it Nanami? You both worked closely together and were good friends before you became his girlfriend. God. What if it was that asshole Sukuna, he would always check out your ass before-
He felt something knock against his foot. He ignored it, moving your hair out of your face as his movements started growing rougher. His thumbs stroked your cheeks as he pushed you down further when he felt a heavy weight settle against his foot.
"What the?"
His shoe was between your legs with your hips grinding against it.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" He grunted as he came down your throat
His hips pushed towards you, his balls slapping against your chin as your swallowed around him. His hands cupped your face, pushing your face deeper into his crotch.
His body was hunched over yours, wayward strands of his hair tickled your face. The broad spam of his back covered both of you in a warped blanket, hiding you from past memories. You heard his ragged breathes above you and his fingers stroking your cheeks. You breathed in his scent, musky and so masculine. God was this the smell of sex?
You didn't know how long the two of you were stuck in this position, but a dizzying feeling in your head signaled you that it was time to come up for air.
Suguru flung himself away from you at the feeling of your nails digging into his thighs. You gasped, breathing deeply as you were torn away from Suguru. His fingers frantically wiped at your cheeks and chin.
God you had cum on your chin-
"Sorry- Christ I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry" The words pushing out of his mouth like a damn flood. He scooped you up, settling you on the couch as he ran into the kitchen.
You giggled at apologies, throat aching and hoarse, staring up at the ceiling. Closing your eyes, you felt content, despite the pain in your knees and in your throat as you swallowed down the remnants of his taste. The taste of Suguru's cum is foreign but not unwelcome. Your fingertips hover above your lips, tracing the outline, not fully believing that you were on your knees and he was in your mouth.
Suguru came back to the living room, the couch dipping under his weight. His fingers ran through your hair, and his eyes traced over you. He looked uncertain, nervous, and your heart flipped at the reversed roles. Feeling powerful that you were able to make your boyfriend, an ex-playboy who has bedded girls and boys for years, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his shadow, was suddenly nervous because of you. His virgin girlfriend.
"I'm okay, " you whispered, your cheek nuzzling against his palm, heavy and warm, your body moving to lay on top of him. He let out a long breath, cradling your head against his chest. You felt his lips pressed softly at your head. For a moment, you forgot how he made you nervous. Despite being months into your new relationship, the feeling of being safe in front was foreign but a welcomed, unexpected emotion.
It was quiet for a while, the two of you content. Suguru mapping out your face, his fingers running down your back, you content to stare up at him, trying to ignore the heat simmering in your gut, realizing that you felt the twitch of Suguru's cock tucked away in his grey sweats.
You smiled up at Suguru, his hand coming up to ruffle at your hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have acted that way."
"No, no. I- I actually liked it. " You confessed, looking away from him. "Just maybe next time, if we can go a little slower? Or we can make a code word if you want to get rougher?"
Suguru nodded. His hand tightened against your side. Despite the peaceful silence that had settled between the two of you, you were unnerved at his silence. Was he quiet cause he didn't like it? What if he didn't like having his balls fondled with? What if you didn't look sexy looking up at him? God, you're pretty sure you grinded on his foot just from the soreness coming from your vagina.
"Was I-?"
"Can I-?"
The two of you started at the same time. With a move of your chin you motioned for Suguru to continue.
"Was that your first time?"
"What? Giving a blowjob?"
He simply nodded, his arms caging you against his side.
"Yeah."
He hummed, his eyes closing, and his chest loosening with the deep sigh he released.
"Why are you asking?"
With his eyes still shut he answered, his voice steadier more sure of himself.
"It felt like you knew what you were doing was all."
"Wait really?" You pushed yourself up slightly from his chest. Suguru grunted his fingers digging into your hips.
"Why are you smiling?" his eye peeking he chuckled, his chest rumbling under yours, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.
"I was good?"
"Yeah." He said, sounding a bit annoyed "You were really good."
His fingers hooked under your jaw, his tongue licked at your chin, cleaning you up.
"Just tell me one thing," he whispered, his lips moving moving down your neck, his other hand cradling your head.
"Mmm" you moaned, his tongue licking at your neck. My boyfriend is nasty, you thought as he licked a stripe of your flesh down your neck.
"Where'd you learned to suck dick?"
"From my other boyfriend."
His fingers tightened against your jaw, his hips grinding up towars you, "Don't piss me off," he muttered, smirking when he saw your smile.
You giggled at his annoyance, feeling his bulge against your pussy, already knowing that the two of you wouldn't leave the coach until you both cummed against each other.
You weren't going to tell your boyfriend where you learned to suck dick. How exactly do you go about explaining that you learned from reading porn on tumblr anyways?
Notes: yall im such a virgin so idk how this works I only seen on tiktok that girls say that the shit tjey read from smut fics helped them so pray it happens to me one day
You’d never slept over before. Not for lack of trying—he’s invited you a few times now, usually in that whirlwind, fast-talking, Bokuto way: “You should stay! I’ll make popcorn! We can watch that terrible space movie you love—wait, not terrible, just… objectively confusing!”
And eventually, you said yes. You’re newly dating, still figuring each other out. Still brushing pinkies under the table, pretending not to smile when he calls you his favorite distraction, and marveling at how easily he can light up a room. Last night was nice. Messy and real. He made you laugh so hard you snorted water out of your nose. You fell asleep curled around his arm, warm and stupidly happy.
You wake up expecting him to be gone. You’ve heard the stories—how Bokuto’s up with the sun, always the first at the gym, how he “accidentally” does 200 push-ups before breakfast because he couldn’t sit still. So when you stir around 9:47 a.m. and find him still beside you, wrapped in blankets and very much not at the gym, you blink in quiet confusion.
And when you try to sit up?
He groans. Loud and pitiful. Then immediately rolls toward you, snaking an arm around your waist, and slumps half his weight on top of you. “Don’t,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep.
“…Don’t what?” you whisper.
His face is in your neck, voice muffled and petulant. “Don’t leave. Too early.”
You laugh under your breath. “It’s basically ten.”
“I’m not emotionally ready for ten.”
You freeze a little, startled by how different this is from what you imagined. No bouncing. No bright energy. No dramatic grin. Just a sleepy man-child melting into you like the mattress is quicksand.
“Aren’t… you a morning person?” you say cautiously.
He groans again. “I am,” he mumbles, “just not when you’re here. You ruin everything.”
"Wow. Thanks."
“No, I mean… you’re warm. And you smell good. And your shoulder’s soft. And the bed feels better with you in it. So now I’m clingy and helpless. Congrats.”
You turn your head, just enough to glimpse his expression—eyes closed, brows drawn, nose scrunched into your skin as if he’s memorizing it.
“I was gonna make coffee,” you murmur.
“Betrayal.”
“You didn’t seem like the clingy type,” you tease, trying (and failing) to pry yourself from his arms.
He only holds you tighter, tugging you closer until your back is flush to his chest. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, lips brushing your collarbone. “You weren’t supposed to find out on the first sleepover.”
You go still. It’s the first sleepover. This was supposed to be casual, a night of snacks and movie reruns while trying not to overthink anything. But this? You weren’t prepared for this.
You clear your throat, flustered. “I could… come back after coffee?”
“No."
You laugh, helpless. “Koutarou—”
He silences you with a gentle touch, turning you toward him until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice is soft now—quieter than before, careful. “Just five more minutes.”
Then he kisses you. Soft and slow, not wanting to startle you. But when you don’t pull away—when your breath catches and your fingers curl instinctively into his shirt—he deepens it. His hand finds the small of your back, drawing you in, needing you closer. There’s no such thing as close enough. He’s still half-asleep, but he’s fully sure of this—of you.
When his lips leave yours, he says nothing. He just buries his face in your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist.
You lie there, stunned—lips tingling, the warmth of the kiss still clinging to your skin. Your fingers find his hair, brushing through the tangled, sleep-ruined strands without thinking. His breathing slows. His weight settles against you, easing something deep in your chest.
And even though your brain is buzzing and your heart is screaming, this is really happening—you somehow manage a soft response. “…Okay. Five more minutes.”
cw: size kink, pussy drunk! bokuto, unprotected sex, overstimulation, manhandling, reblogs and comments are very appreciated!!<3
“Fuck—‘m sorry, baby, I can’t—I can’t stop—”
Bokuto’s voice was wrecked, his breath hot against your skin as he slammed into you, holding you down like you’d disappear if he let go.
His massive frame caged you in, thick arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you still as he fucked into you with desperate, hungry thrusts.
You were already so fucked out, legs shaking, body limp beneath him, but Bokuto—Bokuto wasn’t done.
“T-too much—‘Koutarou—!”
“Nah,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes wild, blown-out and glassy. “Feels too good, baby. So tight—fuck, I swear you’re getting tighter—”
A deep, broken moan ripped from his throat, his hips shuddering as his fat cock dragged against your sensitive walls, hitting spots so deep they made your toes curl.
“S’too big, ‘Ko—!” You sobbed, your hands gripping his biceps, fingers barely able to wrap around the thick muscle.
“You can take it,” he panted, voice dripping with something dangerously sweet. “Know you can. My good girl—always takes me so well.”
He pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, making your back arch off the bed.
“Ohhh, fuck, yeah,” Bokuto whined, his voice breaking as he ground himself deep, rolling his hips like he was trying to mold you to his shape. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so good—gonna make me cum so fast—!”
His cock throbbed inside you, his thick veins pressing against your walls, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You felt so full, stretched to your limit, your stomach bulging just slightly from the sheer size of him.
Bokuto groaned at the sight, pressing his palm to the little bump, feeling himself inside you.
“Shit, look at that,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous. “Splitting you right open, huh? Fuck, baby, you were made for this dick—made for me—”
Your walls fluttered around him, and Bokuto gasped, his grip on your hips bruising.
His pace stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, desperate, his breath ragged as he buried himself as deep as he could go.
“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “Gonna make you so full—fuck, take it—take all of it—”
With a final, wrecked groan, Bokuto spilled inside you, his whole body trembling as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. He shuddered, pressing his face into your neck, still rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts, pushing it all deeper.
“Shit,” he panted, arms tightening around you. “Still so hard—can’t get enough—”
And with the way he was already rutting back into you, his cock twitching, aching for more—you knew he meant it.
AUTHOR‘S NOTE: BOOMSHAKALAKA THANK YOU ALL FOR THE GREAT SUPPORT
no warnings, just fluff and atsumu being whipped and stupid
—
it’s like a reflex to him, you ask him to do something and he’s on autopilot. obeying your request before he even realizes what he’s doing.
gently shaking him awake at night and in your lowest whisper asking, “i’m super thirsty, could you bring me some water please?”
you’re not even sure his eyes are fully open before he’s sleepily stumbling to the kitchen, returning with a full glass of ice water in hand.
“thank you,” you smile up at him, though he can’t see it in the darkness of your bedroom.
it’s not like he even registered your words anyways, nor will he have any recollection of this interaction the next morning.
or you’re standing in line with him at your favorite coffee shop before suddenly realizing you left your loyalty punch card in the glove compartment of his car.
“i almost forgot!” you gasp before hurriedly handing atsumu your purse and rushing out of the shop door and toward the parking lot.
a few moments later, you re-enter the cafe, relieved to see that it still wasn’t your turn to order and you hadn’t held up the line. atsumu’s eyes seem to have never left the menu. he stands still as he was before you left, continuing to study the extensive list of monthly specials.
“tsumu, my purse,” you say, waving your hands in front of him.
that seems to catch his attention. his brows furrow as he looks down at your open hand gesturing him to give you something, and for the first time he notices your purse in his grasp. when did he even take this from you?
atsumu is used to the usual teasing from his brother, but tonight his twin’s taunts seem a little more serious as he sits across from him at the counter of onigiri miya.
“you know, sometimes it seems like ____ has got you programmed or something,” osamu comments as he finishes bagging up his brother’s usual order.
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“i don’t know, it’s just sometimes i watch you two and it’s like you read her mind. do things before she even finishes asking,” he explains. “it’s not bad, just a little funny watching from the outside. didn’t know you’d be whipped like that.”
“i’m not whipped, dumbass,” atsumu scoffs. “thanks for the food, i’ll see you later.”
osamu just waves him off, he’ll figure it out sooner or later.
“honey, i’m home,” atsumu calls out, setting his keys on the hanger next to the door.
“be there in a second!”
atsumu busies himself plating up your meals while he waits for you. cracking open a can of your favorite sparkling water and pouring it over some ice as the sound of your footsteps draws closer.
“tsumu can you get one of those cans out of the fridge and pou- oh you already did. perfect,” you smile, noticing the glass sitting neatly on the table next to your plate.
atsumu freezes in place, suddenly trying to recall what he’d even been doing for the past five minutes.
cw: mdni, fem!reader, tıtty fućking, orál (f receiving), cùm play/eating (on both sides), he's still an asshole but we like him like that, read part one here
“Squeeze ‘em together some more for me— fuck yeah— that’s it.”
You should’ve known better than to think that you two would just be hanging out and watching a movie today. “We don’t have to fuck every time you come over,” were his exact words over the phone, all offended by the way you made it seem like dick was all that he had to offer. It was, but he’s still allowed to be a little butt hurt over it. All he did was call to say what’s up and you flat out told him you didn’t feel like getting fucked in the ass today.
That’s kinda fucking rude, is it not?
“I’m serious, Kuna.”
“Yeah, so am I,” he scoffed over the phone, not quite used to not getting what he wanted. “Just come over, we can watch a movie.. Or something.”
“Or something?”
“Yeah, something.” The very little faith you so clearly had in him quickly chipped away at his patience, not even bothering to elaborate on what that something was. You had every right to think he was only saying that just to get you to come over, because honestly, he himself had no clue if he was telling the truth either.
But still, he wanted to see you regardless.
Why is that so hard to believe?
Yeah, he’d much prefer to be 9 inches deep inside of you whenever he did, but that’s not the point here. The point is, he enjoys your company, which is why he cuts the phone call short with a curt, “M’kay, see you in 10. Bye.”
You live off campus, it takes a minimum of 18 minutes to walk there since you don’t have a car. You’re also kinda pathetic, you sent him a text saying you were at the door around 12 minutes later.
And so was he.
The movie he put on was 90% porn and 10% plot. It wasn’t even 10 minutes in when you felt something hard and long pressed up against your back, followed by the “sorry” Sukuna murmured, but didn’t mean. If anything, that little narcissist almost sounded impressed by how hard he gets for you.
You’re not exactly mad about it, though. The low raspy groans of desperation that escape his lips have easily become one of your favorite sounds in the three months you’ve been dating to Sukuna. He’s a fucking asshole– one that you are incredibly attracted to– which is why you gave in, got on your knees, and let him fuck himself stupid in between your soft tits, all slick from his spit.
There’s multiple beads of pre-cum dripping down from the fat tip of his cock, some falling on to your skin from how fast his hips snap against your chest. Squeezing your breast together even tighter only made him more pathetic and depraved. Another string of saliva falls from his lips, eyebrows furrowing together in concentration as he watches it fall to your cleavage, making it easier to slide his cock in between the tight pocket of skin.
The force he puts behind each thrust doesn’t fail to create a pool of heat and slick between your thighs, flooding your mind with thoughts of how good it’d feel to be under him right now, getting fucked just as hard.
“Perfect fuckin’ tits, I swear,” he groans, the strain in his voice and bead of sweat trickling down his temple telling you he’s close. “Bet they’d look even better with my cum painted all over ‘em.”
You nearly moan at the thought– they would. They abso-fucking-lutely would.
“Mmh– do it,” you encourage him, just barely keeping your balance as he continues to snap his hips against you.
“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh, starting to power through it with a grin. “Dirty little slut– I bet you’d like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” you say a little too eagerly. “I’d fucking love it.”
“Fuck.” He’d laugh again if he could, but he was 2.5 seconds away from cumming all over you and needed to do it like right now. His thrusts grow sloppy, desperately chasing after his release until the most drawn out guttural groan erupts from his throat as thick spurts of hot cum start to paint your chest. And your collarbones. Some parts of your neck. Your hair, too.
It’s fucking everywhere and it’s a sight for him.
“That was so fuckin’ good. C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing the hair on the back of your head and yanking you up.
At first you think it’s so he can kiss you, and he does, but not before licking his own cum off your chest. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue dragging against your skin, licking a fat stripe up the side of your neck until his mouth is on the sweet spot right under your ear. Knees growing weak from the way he nips and sucks at your flesh, nails digging into his broad shoulders in an attempt to find balance.
He pulls his lips away with a wet pop, using his free hand to pull you into his lap so he can crash his lips into yours. It’s dizzying. Aggressive in the best way. Immediately he’s swirling his tongue against yours, letting you taste the remnants of his cum on them before throwing your back against his bed.
There’s nothing but satisfaction on his face as he hovers over you, eyes tracing over the mixture of spit and cum slowly drying in the valley of your breast.
“You’re unbelievable,” you sigh, somehow finding it in yourself to complain even as you’re half naked and splayed out underneath him. “What happened to not having to fuck everytime I come over?”
He snorts. “I mean we didn’t– technically.”
“Yeah?” you tilt your head to the side, trying not to roll your eyes. “Just like how you’re technically a virgin since you only do anal?”
“Exactly.”
What a piece of shit.
He smirks when he notices a white glob on the side of your neck that he didn’t have his tongue all over, and swipes it off with two fingers.
“Suck,” he instructs rather darkly, then lets out a pleased hum from the way you easily wrap your lips around his digits, tongue dragging over the pads of them, licking them clean. “Mmm– that’s a good girl right there.”
You try to say something in response, but all that comes out is a pathetic moan as he presses down on your tongue while leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck and chest. You're squishing your thighs together by the time he gets near your belly button, and for shits and giggles sticks his filthy tongue in there too. But for once doesn’t make you beg or work for it.
He pulls his fingers away and works fast to get your shorts off, letting out a low whistle once he’s face to face with your glistening pussy, all soaked and messy from just letting him fuck your tits. His strong hands grab the back of your knees, opening your legs and pinning them to the sides of your chest.
Sukuna must be in a really good mood today given the way he just started going to work on you. Flat tongue heavily dragging up your slit, making you squirm under him, pushing against his iron grip every time he flicks it off your clit, then sucking on it just hard enough to make you squeal.
You’ve never had a messier eater. The rooms filled with your whines and the filthy smacking sounds Sukuna manages to make whenever he finds himself in between your legs. Slick and spit all over his chin from how deep he buries his face into your pussy. Groaning while he drinks up the mess that he pretty much made, lapping at you like he’s fucking starved.
You’re writhing underneath him, grabbing at anything you can— his hair, his arms, his shoulders— desperately trying to ground yourself while he tries to work an orgasm out of you like his life depends on it.
“Fuck— w-wait!”
“No.”
Any other time you genuinely would’ve felt bad from how rude of a response that was, but not right now. Your vision’s growing blurry, just barely trying to brace yourself from how hard he’s trying to make you cum.
As if it couldn’t get any worse, or better— you don’t know anymore— he shoves two of his thick fingers into your cunt, immediately finding your sweet spot. You’re gasping, tears of overstimulation starting to well up as they curl in while his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and flicking at the same god damn time.
At one point you feel him smiling against you, and that in and of itself was all you needed to know that this wasn’t just for you. It’s for him too because he’s fucking evil and finds pleasure in watching you struggle.
“Kuna! I’m gonna— fuck— slow down!”
“Just cum already,” he sounds like he wants to laugh. “I can feel you squeezing around my fuckin’ fingers. Let me see it.”
Seeing how unserious he is about it all is nothing short of disappointing because it actually does something to you. You feel the pressure starts to build and coil until your legs start to tremble and your breathing grows ragged.
“I’m gonna—“
“I know,” he hums, as if he were trying to sympathize with you, despite not letting up.
In those final moments, he sits up and presses his palm against your clit to grind against it, while feverishly pumping his fingers in and out you, watching the face you make as you start gushing around him.
“Good job,” he says, voice low and drawn out in amusement. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“Fuck you,” you heave, still out of breath from all he put you through.
Not that he cares. He drops the condescending demeanor and in all seriousness asks, “do you want to?”
And you really weren’t planning on it, but now you kinda do.
Enjoyed the read? Buy me a drink 😝 (no pressure ofc ily either way ❤️)
cw: mdni, fem!reader, anàl, fratboy!sukuna, he's a dick LMAO, enjoy pls don't take this seriously, part two here
Sukuna’s a virgin.
Well— kinda.
What started off as a joke, going straight to anal for his first time, snowballed into something that became the norm for the next 4 years of his life. Not only was it something he was notorious for, but his frat brothers also praised him for it.
If you wanted to have sex with the guy, he was going to put it in your ass. Was he an asshole for that? Maybe. But did he get turned down a lot because of it? No, surprisingly. He’s sure some reverse psychology comes into play, because of course he wasn’t going to force you to do it, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna fuck you if he couldn’t.
Sukuna made no exceptions.
He ran a strict program.
You’ve heard the rumors, but you stupidly gave him the benefit of the doubt, and now you’re left speechless and staring at him. It’s not everyday someone like him tells you he’s saving himself for marriage. It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been talking to him for weeks now and you refuse to believe that he was this stupid. How the hell can he consider himself a virgin?
“I’m sorry— what?” you huff out, trying to smile through the confusion.
“You heard me.” He was dead serious. Not about saving himself for marriage— he just said that for fun. But he was serious about fucking you in the ass. He’s kept this streak going for way too long, there was no way in hell he was breaking it now. "Look, it's not that bad. It won't hurt, I've done it enough times."
"...How many times exactly?"
"That's beside the point, sweetheart," he waves a hand, walking over to his dresser. From there, he proceeds to open the top drawer and pull out the biggest bottle of lube you've ever seen in your entire life. "Just relax. I'll take real good care of you."
You don't know why you agreed to it. Regret immediately washed over you the moment you felt a cold blob of lube hit your hole. The way you writhed under Sukuna made him genuinely laugh, which straight up terrified you because the man's not exactly known for having a cheerful attitude.
His fingers weren't bad, you had to give him credit for that. It was his dick. His monstrous fucking dick— it’s the size of a fucking rocket and you nearly passed out at the sight of it.
"That is not going fit inside of me!”
He held back a smile. "Oh it will."
It sounded like a threat, hence why your face is already scrunched up, shoved into his pillow with your ass hiked up in the air. It's not long until you feel Sukuna's big hands go to your hips, his touch is surprisingly gentle as he positions himself behind you. Not that it makes you any less scared. There may be a little bit of excitement under the fear, but feeling him slap his heavy dick down onto your ass cheek sent a chill down your spine.
The fat tip of his cock nudges against your hole once.
Then he stops.
"Stop clenching," he scolds you through a tight jaw, slightly digging his fingers into your flesh as if you were going to bolt at any minute. "You're just gonna make it worse for you— let go."
And with a little whine, you do. He gives you a second to relax before pushing in again. This time he doesn't stop, and soon your met with a stretch that you were not prepared for. It has you gasping and gripping at the sheets, whining his name and how it's too big and how it won't fit.
"You got this— fuck— just breathe for me," a low, gravely groan escapes him.
A hand snakes around your hips, the rough pads of his fingers finding your clit and slowly rubbing little circles over it. It does just enough to distract you from the fact that he's splitting you open, pulling more moans and less gasps out of you while he takes his time working you open, inch by inch.
It's not until you finally feel his hips flush against your ass when you find yourself holding your breath again. He lets out a low laugh and leans over, until he's right in your ear. "See? Told you it'd fit." You feel his cock throb inside of you from just that statement alone. "Ready?"
You don't know, but give him a measly nod. "Yeah."
He's still caging you in, another groan leaving him from how tight of a squeeze it is as he slowly pulls his hips back. At first it doesn’t feel like much, aside from feeling absolutely stretched beyond your limits, but then there’s a change. The initial burn fades and it turns into something… enjoyable.
His thrusts went deep, but he moved slow— making you feel everything as he easily slid his cock in and out of you with the help of all the lube he used.
“You alright?” he murmurs, chest pressed up against you back, feeling his abs flex each time he pushes in.
“Yeah— better,” you answer breathlessly. “So much better.”
You can feel him smile against the shell of your ear and instantly regret saying that. “Yeah?” Thrust. “Gotta say you’re doing pretty good for me right now.” Thrust. “Shit— maybe I should reward you a little.”
“W-what do you— fuck,” another thrust cuts you off, ”what do you mean by that?”
Sukuna clicks his tongue at the lack of trust. Instead of actually answering you, he just does it.
He shoves two fingers inside your neglected, yet still dripping pussy and starts curling them in just right.
Sukuna isn't a virgin.
He's a fucking freak.
Bullying both of your holes for hours, taunting you throughout the entirety of it. How dare he say he was saving himself for marriage? There was nothing to fucking save!
And you were a fool to think this was all just for him. That his dick was just something to endure because unfortunately, like all the others before you, that’s just how bad you wanted to fuck him. But you were wrong. The amount of orgasms he managed to rip from you was downright embarrassing.
He had you dwindled down to an ugly, crying mess.
"Look at you," he rasped, grin widening as he grabbed a fistful of hair to pull you up, not letting up on the dizzying pace he set. "Didn't think it'd feel this good, did you?"
He was infuriating.
"F-fuck you," you spat out.
"I already am," he responds in an amused, matter-of-fact tone. "Unless this is you asking me to go faster?"
He doesn't wait for an answer and instead shoves your head back down, smushing your face against the pillow as he began to fill the room with the filthy sounds of him pounding into you.
His own groans included, which went straight to your core. Sukuna sounds so fucking sexy when he's close, easily making you forget how much of an asshole he is.
"Fuck. That's it, princess-- just fuckin' take it." He lets go of your hair, big hands tracing down your back and grabbing at your hips, powering through each thrust. There's sweat beading down his forehead, swallowing thickly as his breathing grows ragged. "M'gonna--"
Cum. Hard.
"So fuckin' tight." His grip on your hips tighten, pulling a little whine out of you as he starts fucking into you deeper at a different angle. "Where do you want it?"
"Mmh— inside."
He huffs out a laugh, "Of course you fuckin' do," only to get cut off by a needy groan when you unknowingly tighten around him. It makes something in him snap, feeling the desperation in him build. Fast. His thrusts only grow sloppier, groans become needier, and with one final snap of his hips, he's having to slam a hand down on to the bed as he starts pumping you full of his cum. The whole time he's praising you, for once. Calling you his good girl, and how you took it so well for him.
Too bad you don't hear all of it. Sukuna fucked you so hard that you don’t remember falling asleep, and find yourself waking up confused in his bed the next morning.
It’s a sight— passed out on his stomach, his pink hair all ruffled from the night you two had, the sheets just barely cover half of his body, toned back covered in scratches and ass crack on full display.
Not to mention he has his heavy ass leg thrown over you, so you can’t really go anywhere until he wakes up.
And when he does…
Good luck to you.
notes: i never thought i’d see the day where i gave in and wrote fratkuna, only bc im already content with all the yummy fics there already are, but here we are LMAO i could totally see him getting off on the fact that there’s people willing to do things they never thought they’d do bc of how bad they wanna fuck him
cw: MDNI, sukuna x f!reader, sukuna shows you his dıck piercings, he has a little crush on reader and is oddly respectful
Sukuna was widely known for two things:
1. Being an asshole.
2. Having multiple piercings on his dick.
And despite his shitty attitude, women still flocked to him in hopes of at least getting a peek.
You’re no better than any of them. The thought of what his dick could possibly look like has always lingered in the back of your head in the years that you’ve known him. Going out of your way to scratch that little itch you have is something you wouldn’t dare to do though.
It’s not like he was a friend or anything. Just an acquaintance, which was close to enough to know that if that side quest ever went wrong, there was no avoiding him. Yeah, you may not talk much at parties or random get togethers, but his presence alone was too demanding to ignore.
And on the off chance’s that you do talk, he is suffocating. It’s not even because of the way he acts. Surprisingly enough, you’ve never actually been on the receiving end of his temper when it’s soiled. It’s just his presence— the weight of his stare, the bass of his voice, the way he demands space.
Sukuna makes you nervous, and you’re pretty sure he knows that too. You wouldn’t say you were a timid person by any means. You could hold your own, had a decent amount of confidence, but it was never enough to handle him for longer than small increments of time.
He knows that too.
It’s why he keeps his distance. Look, he’s not a monster, and you’ve never done anything to bother him. He knows what he’s like, and if he’s too much for you, keeping his distance isn’t something he minds doing.
Sukuna’s not perfect though. He’ll come up and bug you after he gets a couple of drinks in him. His version of it. Which is, in a slightly lame way, just talking. Maybe a little flirting— saying that you smell nice, or that he likes whatever the fuck you did with your hair, yada yada. Sometimes you fold, sometimes you don’t. It’s different every time, he thinks of it as a little game he likes to play once in a while.
On this particular night, you had a little more to drink than what you usually had, and lucky for him, you didn’t actually crumble 5 minutes into talking about something as mundane as your job.
He wasn’t following you around and marking his territory on you like some dog, but he can admit that there were a few times he lingered around you. Not that you noticed, it was one of the very few times you let loose, so therefore you weren’t overly aware of your surroundings.
It wasn’t until everybody left when things got interesting though. You both just so happened to be spending the night at a shared friend’s house. Separate sleeping arrangements, of course. But you two were the last ones awake, in the basement, sitting and talking on the couch he was planning to sleep on.
It started with him asking about your dating life, if you had anybody you were seeing or not. You two were still drinking. Not too much, but enough for the conversation to inevitability turn suggestive.
Until he straight up told you that he enjoyed putting women in headlocks and fucking them until they cried. It was a piece of information that you definitely didn't mind being told, but it was only a matter of time before it'd circle back to you.
"Alright, what about you?"
“I don’t know,” you let out an awkward laugh, clearly flustered from the sudden pressure he put on you.
He just smiles, eyes drifting down to your lips. “I’m just asking what you like— nothing to be shy about,” he hums.
You take a moment to think about it, deciding for once to push past the shyness you tend to feel around him. "Alright, fine."
And without hesitation
“What about dick piercings?”
“I don’t— huh?” Your brain short circuits, already telling yourself that this can't be happening. It’s too good to be true. “I’ve never been with anyone that’s had one before, but I guess they’re nice.”
You really don't know why you say you guess. They are nice.
Your answer makes Sukuna look at you as if you’ve experienced nothing but back-to-back tragedies in your life, all because you've never been with someone pierced before.
“Yeah— feels good, too.” His response of course does not match his face or his tone, it sounds more like he’s pitching a sale. “Especially when you have a few of them stacked over each other like mine.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“That’s—“ your throat grows dry at the thought, “did it hurt?”
“Nah, felt more like a pinch.”
“And there’s… how many?”
“Five,” he says the number like it carries weight and meaning, and at this point, it does. “One right under the tip and the rest is a Jacob’s ladder.”
You try to imagine it and end up looking confused as you open your mouth to say something, only to close it due to the words dying in your throat.
It happens 3 times before he eventually cuts in again.
“Wanna see it?”
What kind of a question is that? Of course you wanna fucking see it. Why wouldn’t you? You still hold on to what little respect you have left though.
“That wouldn’t be weird or anything?”
“Maybe, but it was me who brought it up. Can’t blame you for wanting to see.”
He’s full of shit and knows exactly what he’s doing. But you go along with it because this is something you've thought about for years. Less than a minute later, he’s unbuckling his belt and zipping his pants down.
There’s a moment of (fake) reluctance when he palms his boxers and remembers that it’s not just the piercings you’re going to see. It’s also his cock, which, in his honest and humble opinion, is a work of fucking art. Especially when it’s hard, like right now. He almost feels like he has to warn you, but decides not to and instead asks if you're ready.
You weren’t sure. You’ve been internally screaming this entire time though, and knew you’d explode if you didn’t see it already, so you gave him a nod.
Then your jaw nearly drops as he pulls his boxers down low enough for his entire cock to spring out. Spring’s not even the right word to use, it was too heavy for that, and if anything, just settled right on his stomach.
It was long and thick, a couple prominent veins running down his shaft. Big, dark pink tip that had some precum dripping from it. And then the five piercings.
Holy shit
It didn’t help that his hand was loosely wrapped around the base, lids growing heavier the longer you stare.
“Oh my god?”
“Yeah,” he rasps.
“You’re fucking huge.”
“I know.”
You don’t really care that much about the piercings despite them being the only reason why he has his dick out right now, but he is not complaining. By all means, stare at it. Please.
Drool, even.
He huffs out a laugh as he sees a little bit of it collect at the corner of your mouth, and swipes it off with his thumb before raising it to his mouth and licking it clean.
“Sorry,” you say without an inch of shame.
“You’re good,” he casually says, not trying to ruin the romantic moment you’re currently having with his dick. “Probably from one of the drinks you had earlier.”
“Mhm.” Neither of you believe that, but just go along with it. “Do the piercings ever get caught in your boxers?”
“Never,” he shakes his head. “They’re smooth against everything. . . You can touch them. If you want.”
Your hand’s already reaching out before that sentence is even finished, and his abs involuntarily flex at the feeling of your fingertips brushing over the underside of his shaft.
You say nothing, because you can’t think of anything respectful to say, and just continue to trace up until you get to his tip.
He feels you pull back and takes a good guess at why you did as he watches you rub your fingers together.
“Shit, sorry— fuck, you’re kidding me,” he suddenly groans out.
You licked precum off your fingers, but didn’t realize it until after.
Your eyes widen in panic. “Oh my god— that was so weird, I’m sorry.”
“No, that was— it wasn’t weird,” he tries to put a response together, but he’s honestly just as shocked as you. “You're fuckin’ nasty— did it taste good?”
You can’t even believe you’re saying this right now, but, “Honestly, yeah.”
“Jesus,” he lets out a low laugh, throwing his head back for a moment to take a deep breath, which turns into a deep, drawn-out hum when he feels you wrap your hand around his base. “You’re fuckin’ killin me right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” you whisper at first. “We should just—“
He opens one eye. “Fuck?”
“Yeah.”
notes: dick piercing kuna deserved his own spot in my master list so i freshened this up from side character reader 🫶🏻
Brought to you by a tiktok where this guy was talking abt a girl he was seeing and how every time they had sex she’d give him a little treat afterwards (like a lil candy bar)
Like it starts when you jokingly toss Johnny one of the chocolates you had sitting on your nightstand after he ate you out like his life depended on it- he eats the candy immediately obviously as he laughs
Then you end up with a little candy dish on the nightstand, or in the drawer, any time you and Johnny have sex you give him a piece of candy, throw him a bone so to speak. Not on purpose but you think it’s cute- the way his face lights up when given the candy
You find yourself fucking somewhere in the house that isn’t the bedroom? Johnnys right behind you as you make your way to your shared room for his treat, not even realizing he’s doing it.
Whether you forget on purpose or on accident one day he just kinda stands in the kitchen like a kicked puppy and, “didn’t do somethin’ to upset ya did I hen?” His head tilted to the side slightly.
“What? No- what do you mean?” You are genuinely confused until he mumbles a “didn’t get my treat- ya know-“
You have to stop yourself from laughing as you ruffle his slightly overgrown mohawk before you’re off to the bedroom to toss him his little candy.
Honorable mention: I’d like to think Johnnys somehow ended up explaining this to the others, maybe just Ghost at first. And Ghost immediately understands it and is thankful his smile is covered by his balaclava- leave it to Johnny to get himself trained like a good dog
Basically what im trying to say is doing this to Soap would have him so down bad I think
Hated how hot and stifling the air would get, hated pressing his body to someone else’s sweaty and dirty one. He’d be the first one to jump out of bed after coming down from the high of his orgasm to clean himself up.
After being tangled up with another person and then having them cling to him, it would make Sukuna's skin itch uncomfortably. He isn't one for that kind of intimacy, he tells himself.
That was, until he started sleeping with you.
You were clingy as hell.
You scoot up to Sukuna every opportunity you get since that one time when you fell asleep on his arm during movie night and he did not shove you away.
Give you a hand and you take up his whole damn whole arm.He didn't know why it was so hard to say no to you. Every time you look up at him with those big fucking eyes his brain just turns to mush.
You want his lap? Fine, he's already manhandling you and sitting you on his lap while you study, hands encircling your waist like you belonged there. You want a kiss? He grumbles and curses under his breath but he does it anyway. Cheeks turning a tinge of pink when you see each other on campus and you go up on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek and giggle. His friends are already laughing at him, but that's okay. He beats them up later when you're not around.
He doesn't know what makes you so different, you just are. He had to punch a tree one time to prove to himself he wasn't turning soft. After a while, it was him who starts to seek you out. Your little kisses, your hugs, your warmth on his lap. Before you, everything was just about sex. But now? He snuggles and buries his face in your neck when you sleep. Refusing to let you go, even if it was just to pee. Hugs you from behind and kisses your cheek whenever you make breakfast.
His friends still make fun of him for it though. Satoru, that damn bastard. They have a fist fight. He goes to your apartment like a puppy with his ears down, complaining about his bruises and his knuckles hurting just so you can kiss them better.
Yeah, Sukuna is a cuddle bug now. He wouldn't have it any other way.
frat boy!toji does not have a crush on his frat brother sukuna’s girlfriend…!
he doesn’t like you. he really doesn’t. he swears. i mean it’s fucked—wanting to smash your frat brother’s girlfriend—it’s not brotherly or okay in really any depiction of bro-code.
but he doesn’t wanna be the one to fuck you, doesn’t wanna be the one you run to when you see each other, or the person you have too many full highlights of, or— okay maybe he likes you a little. a little. it’s human nature to like a girl you see half naked sneaking out of sukuna’s room in the morning. instinct, he swears.
he’s only had one wet dream of you. one. okay maybe two—three, …four? well atleast he’s not actually trying to fuck you. he would never…atleast while you and sukuna are together—in his mind that counts for something.
but now it just feels like you’re torturing him.
you’ll walk into the kitchen as he’s making breakfast—disheveled with marks littered all over your neck after your night with sukuna, that he wishes he wasn’t forced to hear all fucking night—in tight cotton briefs and a low cut tank top.
he says a “hi” and tries to go on with his morning, but you just keep tormenting him. you smirk at him so sweetly as you mutter a soft “g’morning, toji.”, you bend over the counter to reach for the toaster, suck off the last bit of cream cheese that landed on your thumb—this has to be on purpose, right?
you look over at him so sexily when you’re drunk, even if you’re just asking for him to hand you another drink, still halfway cuddled with sukuna right beside him.
and the way you fluster when he calls you pretty lady—chuckle and turn away, flushed.
he even overheard you talking to your friends, saying he was sexy when he cooks.
that’s gotta be on purpose. has to be.
god, he is so fucking screwed.
not proofread. very short sorry but i’m happy to expand more on this concept in the future.
dealing with frat bf!sukuna after him and frat!toji got in a fight
“gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” you scold, dabbing an alcohol wipe along his rough, blood ridden cheek. he sits upon your dorm bed, pout spreading across his face.
“i leave you alone for five motherfucking seconds and you pull this shit—i mean fighting toji?” you snarl, face contorting in anger—partial confusion. “what is wrong with you?” your voice gets louder—you’re yelling now. it’s a genuine question. of all his shit you’ve put up with, this takes the cake.
it was a party—god why is it always a fucking party. you walked to the bathroom to fix your lip liner—smudged from sukuna’s lips practically attacking yours—and hear indistinct commotion. yelling, banging, the screech of the coffee table moving along the sticky-from-beer flooring. so naturally, you step out. and there it is—there he is.
“i step into the bathroom for—what— a minute? and i comeback to find you and toji fighting like fuckin’ animals.” you’ve stepped away from his hunched over state, now pacing about your room, discarding cleaning him up for now. “do i need you on a leash?”
he grabs your wrist, gently pulling you closer to him as he speaks low. “‘s not that big ‘a deal—” he brings his hand up to cup at the curve of your ass, drawing you even closer so you’re staring right down at him—him and his stupid, swollen face. “just chill, babe.”
you push his head away when he tries to snuggle up to your titties like a kindergartener aiming for pity from their mother.
“do not tell me to fucking ‘chill’, ryomen.”
“shi wasn’t even my fault,” he complains, “fought him ‘cause he started talking about you.”
“yea, sure. fuck could he have said for you to charge at him like—”
“he literally said he’d fuck you.” he defends, putting his arms up as to signify ‘case and point’.
“sukuna—”
“and he described it—in. motherfucking. detail. i’m not gon’ let him say that shit.” he puts his arms on you again, gentle and soft.
you don’t speak, letting the silence lie there in the room—well until now, when he looks up at you with a stupidly smug face, knowing he won.
“take that smug look of your face before i slap it off, asshole.” you scold, cupping his face in your hands. he tries to kiss up at your neck, but you meet him with “stop trying to kiss me—” as you try and pull away. “still mad at you, by the way!” you struggle away from him but he still manages to nibble along your jaw.
“i’m s’pposed to be cleaning you up still—there’s blood still all over your fuckin’ face and hands.” you mutter. his hands continue to wander up the hem of your dress, tracing up your skin.
“should record and send it to toj—”
“yeah not a fucking chance.”
not proofread. concept wise, my fav fratkuna work, writing wise my least favorite.
Absolutely, Sukuna would be the type to give a heads-up about having sex. Oh, he would totally shoot you a casual text like, "Hey, maybe clear your schedule for tomorrow… trust me, you'll need the extra rest." Or even, "Take a nap today if you can. Just saying."
He’d know he’s a lot to handle and would actually get a kick out of warning you ahead of time, half-joking but completely serious. "Don’t say I didn’t tell you to rest up." It's like his way of being thoughtful without coming off too soft—just a little heads-up to make sure you’re as ready as he is because when Sukuna's all in, he's going to make sure neither of you can walk straight the next day.
you’re still talking. you’re naked under him, legs spread over his thighs, panties hanging off one ankle because he couldn’t be bothered to take them all the way off—and you’re still talking.
“—and then i told her, like, ‘no babe, you can’t just steal someone’s lunch because you—’”
he thrusts up into you without warning. your voice cracks into a gasp, the sentence obliterated. your nails drag down his chest, but you’re already trying to keep talking through it, breath hitching, words breaking like glass.
“s-sukuna, i was—i was saying—”
“i know what you were saying,” he murmurs, hand sliding up your spine to grab the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. “you haven’t stopped since you walked through the damn door.”
you wriggle in his lap like you’re offended, but you clench around him so tight he has to grit his teeth. “well—maybe if you didn’t grab me the second i got home—”
he thrusts again, deeper, just to shut you up. you moan, messy, the kind of sound neighbors complain about. his favorite.
“keep talking,” he says—taunts, really. “go on. tell me more about whatever useless shit you were rambling about.”
you try. god, you try. you open your mouth, brain full of words, but his hand is on your waist dragging you down, bouncing you on his cock like he’s using you to get himself off and letting you enjoy the ride.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” he groans into your ear, voice a low rough scrape. “you’re my little yapper, aren’t you? can’t go five minutes without running that mouth.”
you babble something—half a word, half a moan, nothing coherent. he laughs. “thought so.”
he flips you easily, your back hitting the mattress, his hand wrapping around your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek so your mouth opens for him.
“that’s better,” he mutters, sliding in deeper, harder, the head of his cock hitting something that makes your eyes roll. “mouth open, nothing coming out. finally the way i want you.”
you whine, wet and so needy, and he leans down to kiss you, teeth scraping your bottom lip—before fucking you even harder, the bed slamming against the wall.
“you only get to talk,” he growls, thrust punctuating every word, “when you’re begging.”
your legs shake around him. you grab his wrist, nails digging in, trying to force out some kind of plea, but he’s already smirking because the only thing coming out of your mouth is soft, wrecked whimpers.
“yeah,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “that’s my girl. loud as hell when it doesn’t matter, but the second i get inside you? gone. brain empty.” he kisses you again, rough. his hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit, slow, cruel circles.
“go on then,” he murmurs. “beg for it. let me hear that mouth do something useful.”
you choke out his name so broken, and oh so breathless—and he groans like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting for.
“that’s it, baby. that’s the voice i want.”
you don’t stop moaning after that. you couldn’t, even if you tried.and he fucks you through every sound.
dating ryomen sukuna comes with a warning no one bothers to give you: he doesn’t come alone. he comes with toji. not in the romantic sense. not in the “two-for-one special” sense. but in the spiritual, cosmic, deeply inconvenient sense—like buying a new phone and realizing it came with a demonically possessed charger.
because being sukuna’s girlfriend means inheriting his best friend—the six-foot-something menace who appears in your life with the same inevitability as gravity, toji doesn’t even knock. he just shows up. your apartment door will open and there he is, barefoot, wearing a shirt that’s definitely not his, with a bag of takeout he bought “for the big guy” but then eats half of on your couch.
you’ll be sitting on sukuna’s lap and toji will walk in like: “oh… my bad. didn’t know y’all were busy.” (he absolutely knew. he just didn’t care.)
sukuna barely reacts. he just grunts, curls his hand a little tighter around your waist, and keeps doing whatever he was doing because he’s long accepted his fate: dating you means being constantly third-wheeled by his own best friend, and dating him means the same.
the worst part? you get attached. toji makes you laugh. he gives you terrible advice.
“just block him, babe, men hate it when you ignore them.”
“toji, i’m dating sukuna.”
“exactly.”
he spoils you with snacks, steals your blanket, calls you “princess” just to watch sukuna’s jaw tick. he’s like an oversized, feral housecat who decided you’re his enrichment activity. and sukuna hates it. not enough to actually stop it—just enough to glare every time toji hugs you for too long or sits a little too close. because sukuna didn’t mean to share. it just… happened.
and then there’s the moments where toji wanders into the kitchen while you’re cooking and murmurs, “kuna’s lucky,” in that voice that does things to your spine.
or when he passes behind you, steadying you with a hand on your hip that lingers a second too long. or when he sprawls across the couch, pats his thigh, and says, “sit. i’ll warm you up till your man’s done with his shower.”
and sukuna walks in at that exact moment, eyes narrowing, muttering, “i turn my back for two fucking minutes.”
but here’s the secret, for as much as he growls, as much as he pretends he hates it—he lets it happen. he lets toji spoil you, tease you, hover around you like you’re both his favorite trouble and his favorite toy. because sukuna trusts him. because it’s always been the two of them against the world. because letting toji close to you means something even bigger: he’s letting you into their world, too.
dating sukuna means having two shadows instead of one. two men watching your back. two idiots fighting over who gets to sit next to you. two sets of footsteps behind you when you walk home at night.
and every now and then, usually late, usually when you’re tucked into his chest, sukuna will grumble, “if he flirts with you one more time, i’m gonna kill him.” but he won’t. because he cares, and because he knows you do, too. dating sukuna comes with a third. and somehow—impossibly—you end up loving both disasters in your own way.
we love a secure boyfriend #goals #needthat #mybftakenotesyo + what if i said this is just a prequel for what i’m planning to do a oneshot about… also i wrote this w u in mind hehe @wockberry
18+ ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 & nerd!reader making out for the first time (spoiler: he’s a goner) <3
part 1 | part 2
the air is thick with it—wet, greedy kisses that sound like he’s trying to overwhelm you, even as his mouth keeps brushing yours like he’s afraid to let go.
sukuna kisses you while you’re on his lap like a starved man, lips moving with a kind of urgency that blurs the line between respect and pure want.
one hand stays firm at the back of your neck, his palm hot against you your skin. the other swallows your face, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that almost feels wrong on him. though his grip tightens as if he can’t help it—holding you there, trapping you in him.
you’ve kissed him before, sure—shy, hesitant things that barely brushed the surface since the time you’ve began dating.
he was your first boyfriend. your first kiss.
but you’d never done anything like this before.
sukuna won’t ever admit it, but you were too damn cute today—your oversized sweater, glossy lips, baggy jeans, and glasses slipping down your nose. of course he couldn’t hold back any longer.
his tongue slides against yours and you whine into his mouth, finally melting above him. your fingers twist in his shirt, he lets out a low sound against your mouth—something between a groan and a laugh.
your glasses press crookedly against his face, the cool frame digging into his cheek as he kisses you harder. he doesn’t even care. if anything, it only spurs him on. he growls a quiet curse against your lips, chasing you when you try to pull back to fix them. his hand shifts from your neck to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as if to say don’t you dare.
you try to mumble something—maybe an apology—but it’s swallowed by the next kiss.
he tastes like heat, a gatorade, and something dizzying (though that’s probably just a side effect of his lips on yours).
the way his breath shudders when you instinctively lean further into him makes your stomach flip.
it’s messy. it’s clumsy. and it’s so him.
it’s almost funny, how this even started. the two of you had always been a little mismatched—him, loud and infuriating; you, the quiet one in the front of every lecture with the best grades.
he’d tease you endlessly just to see that your flustered reaction, calling you nerd like it was your name.
when sukuna came crashing into your life, he was loud and unapologetic—the kind of guy who ruled every room without trying. but you? you were the quiet, awkward, stuck behind your laptop type. you were someone he shouldn’t have noticed, let alone liked.
but he did. somehow.
he’d lean against your table in the library during study sessions just to get under your skin, tossing out comments that made your face heat up. “you’re really gonna skip dinner to study for a test?” or, “how are you still cute with those eye bags, nerd?”
but every time, you couldn’t help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a library and talking to a girl like you.
the teasing was constant, but something else hid underneath it—something that made your chest tighten whenever he looked at you a second too long.
it was in moments where your eyes accidentally met his across campus and you immediately glanced away, convinced he hadn’t really been looking at you. or when you caught his gaze while he was laughing with his friends and had to pretend you weren’t wondering why someone like him would notice you at all.
and now, with your glasses tilted and your lips swollen from his kisses, that same look flickers in his eyes. the one that says he doesn’t mean half the things he says because around you? sukuna’s never really been as sharp as he pretends to be.
he leans in again, and before you can think, the kiss deepens. slower this time, but heavier—like he’s sinking into it.
your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt once more, and that’s all it takes for him to lose whatever restraint he had left. with a low sound that sends heat rushing to your face, he shifts his weight, guiding you back until your shoulders hit the mattress.
the world tilts. your breath stutters.
his hand braces beside your head, his body hovering just above yours. your dorm room feels too small now, every breath shared.
“relax,” he murmurs, voice rough, but his eyes are soft—softer than you’ve ever seen them. dilated until you can barely see the crimson color of his eyes.
when he kisses you again, it’s needier, like he’s afraid the moment will end too soon. your glasses slide a little down your nose again when you move to sit up on your elbows, and he laughs quietly against your mouth—a sound that makes your breath hitch—brushing them back up with his knuckles before kissing you once more, even harder this time.
your heartbeat is wild, matching the rhythm of his. you’re flustered and overwhelmed but you don’t want him to stop. not when he’s looking at you like that. not when every kiss feels like a secret he’s been holding in for far too long.
your breath catches when his lips leave yours for only a moment—just long enough for him to look at you like he’s still trying to understand how he ended up here, above you, wanting you this much. his thumb skims your cheekbone, slow and distracted, like his body is moving ahead of his thoughts.
“y’know,” he mutters, voice low and almost irritated, “you drive me insane.”
you barely have time to process it before his mouth is on yours for the nth time—now nothing like the seemingly controlled kisses from before.
it’s like he’s losing patience with himself and with you. with the space between your bodies that he keeps trying to erase.
when he pulls back, it’s not far. just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breaths tangling.
“you don’t even get it, do you?” he murmurs, words barely shaped.
you manage an breathy exhale, answer confused, “g-get what?”
he doesn’t answer.
instead, his gaze drags over your face like he’s memorizing something he refuses to say out loud.
and then without warning his mouth drops to your throat.
the shift is instant. rougher. desperate.
his hand curls at your hip, dragging you closer as his lips find the warm skin beneath your jaw, kissing, then biting. soft, then not soft at all. your breath hitches, fingers gripping his shoulders, and he makes a low noise against your neck like that reaction alone is all the explanation he’s willing to give.
he doesn’t stop there.
his mouth trails lower. it’s almost like he’s trying to chase every shiver he pulls from you. his nose skims your throat, breath hot against your skin.
his grip on your hip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to tell you he’s losing whatever control he walked in with.
you gasp when he pulls you fully against him, the closeness stealing your breath even further. that little noise goes straight to his head. his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing your chest against his, keeping you there like he doesn’t want to let go.
“stay still,” he breathes against your neck. except you can hear it in his voice, the way it cracks a little—he’s the one who can’t stay still.
his lips find a spot just beneath your ear, and when you shudder, he laughs. this time quiet and breathless, not mocking at all. like he can’t believe what you do to him.
he mouths at your pulse again, deeper, lingering like he’s trying to mark the moment into memory.
your fingers slide up into his hair without thinking, and the second you tug—just barely—his breath catches hard against your skin.
the sound that leaves him is almost pained.
he kisses down your neck again like he needs you closer than your body will physically allow.
and then, he’s grinding his hips against yours and that’s when you feel it.
a whimper escapes you and then you realize he doesn’t even know it. the movement was instinctive. heat blooms in your chest and low in your stomach, sudden and sharp, and he just hums against your skin, lost in the closeness between you.
“kuna—” it comes out as a whine as you push him back, eyes wide.
he grunts, reaching instinctively to pull you back in, “what?”
then his eyes catch where you’re looking and a flash of awareness hits him. a faint red color blooms upon his cheeks as he realizes exactly what it is.
he’s hard.
fuck.
ryomen sukuna was not a man who got hard just from just kissing.
sukuna hides himself at the crook of your neck, “just—just stop— don’t look! i-ignore it.”
did he just stutter?
series masterlist | open taglist!
part 2
this is my first sukuna fic (that i'm posting at least) and the first thing i've written since disappearing off the face of tumblr!!! i hope i wrote him well enough because this has been in my drafts for months😓
Having him slide into bed behind you while you're already halfway off to dreamland, his breath warm against your naked shoulder where he leaves soft kisses, murmuring about how he has missed you and that he's sorry for coming home so late
“…how’d you do it?” his voice rough, heavy from sleep and rubs the top of your head.
in response you sigh, both of you waking up from a rough night “what?”
“t’get me to fall in love with you” he caresses your cheek and plants a peck on your forehead. “i didn’t tell you, but you know i swore off love after my late wife passed” you brows knit together.
you shrug and he kisses your temple, pulling you closer to his wide chest. “I don’t know ji” “was probably your damn attitude” he grunts.
“you saved me ma, seriously” he puts his face in your hair and takes a deep breath “love ‘ya.”
“mm, love you too ji” you mumble against his chest and kiss it lightly. “can I have—“ “no toji, stop tryna manipulate me” he chuckles. “just kidding, but seriously what’s for breakfast?” “doordash it toji, my legs hurt”
he smiles “all that i did for you, ‘n you still dunno how to thank me?” you sigh as his hands slide down from your back to your thighs as he slowly kneads his fist into the right places.
he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck placing light but long kisses there. “tojiii” you whine out. “mhm?” “fine fine, what do you want?” he grins against your neck.
“anythin’, i love yer cooking mama” he slides his arms around your waist.
