dimplesxx

[dimplesxx]

hi! I wanted to request a Bakugou prohero x female reader! Prohero. Where the reader ends up very injured in a battle and Katsuki runs to see her at the hospital, seeing her face totally bruised! Please! ( that ends fluff)

⸝⸝ ＃┆ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘! ⎯ 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

summary: After a stupid argument over coffee, you leave for work without saying goodbye to Katsuki. Hours later, you face off against a Nomu to protect innocent lives—and barely survive. Katsuki rushes to the hospital, terrified you might not make it. When he finally sees you—bruised, broken, and bandaged beyond recognition—everything crashes down. Hurt, furious, and scared out of his mind, he confronts the idea of losing the love of his life over something as trivial as a fight. In the quiet of a hospital room, full of whispered apologies and trembling hands, you face the wreckage—together.

warnings: Pro Hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Pro Hero!Fem!Reader, Graphic injury descriptions, fluff, blood, bruising, Medical emergency / hospital setting, panic, guilt, fear of loss, Angst / hurt-comfort, swearing, yelling, near-death experience.

wc: 4.2k words.

anon: i loved this request sm! maybe I do love writing angst I hope i did well and it was how you imagined it <3

The call came through mid-fight.

Katsuki had just taken down the last villain on his side of the city when the screaming burst through his comm:

“PRO HERO NOVA IS DOWN — WE NEED BACKUP — FUCK! SHE’S NOT MOVING — HER FACE—HER FACE—WE NEED MEDICS HERE—NOW!”

And just like that, he stopped breathing.

Time warped. The rest of the city faded to ash. There was only your name.

He took off so fast he didn’t remember launching.

He found you on the gurney.

Unconscious. Bleeding. Barely alive.

Your face—his beloved face, the one he kissed every damn night—was a ruin of swollen skin, deep bruising, and bandages. Your lip was split. Your eye swollen shut. Dried blood stained your hairline. He didn’t know how many bones were broken.

He just knew he could’ve lost you.

And that would’ve been the end of everything.

You woke up in the hospital hours later.

Numb. Distant. The machines beeped like a heartbeat that wasn’t yours. Your ribs screamed when you tried to shift.

“Kats…?”

His head shot up from the side of your bed, eyes wide and red.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, grabbing your hand like a lifeline. “Baby—sweetheart—fuck, you’re awake.”

Your fingers curled into his. “You’re here.”

“Course I’m here.” He laughed—but it broke halfway. “You scared the absolute shit outta me, dumbass.”

Your lips trembled. “I—tried to hold out. Didn’t wanna let anyone else get hurt.”

His hand squeezed yours tighter.

“You think I’m not hurt?” His voice cracked—low, dangerous, like a storm barely held back. “You think watching them carry you in, hearing your name over the comm like it was some goddamn casualty report, didn’t rip my fucking heart out?!”

You blinked rapidly. “Katsuki…”

“I didn’t even say goodbye this morning,” he said, barely audible now. “We argued about coffee. Coffee. And then you—” He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought I lost you.”

Your chest tightened painfully, far worse than the cracked ribs.

“I was scared,” you whispered. “Not during the fight. After. When I hit the ground. When I couldn’t feel my legs.”

His breath caught.

“I thought I was going to die,” you whispered, eyes burning. “And I wasn’t going to see you again. And that was the worst part. Not dying. That.”

He was around you before you finished the sentence.

Strong arms, usually so unrelenting, held you like you were made of glass now. He buried his face into your neck, fists clinging to the thin hospital gown.

“You idiot,” he breathed into your skin. “You absolute… stubborn… dumbass.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Ow…”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see you, thumb brushing a tear from your uninjured eye.

“You’re still the same pain-in-the-ass woman I fell for,” he said softly, lips quirking despite himself.

You turned your head—the side of your face still heavily bandaged—away from him.

“Don’t look at me,” you whispered.

His hand didn’t ease.

“Don’t do that.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m not gonna look the same again. I should’ve waited. I should’ve called you. I just—I was so angry, and then we—”

He stood abruptly.

You flinched, expecting yelling.

But he didn’t yell.

He leaned over the bed, both palms flat on the railing, head hanging like gravity had finally caught him.

“You think I give a shit about that?” he said, voice shaking with raw, guttural emotion. “You think your face—your looks—whatever—that’s why I’m here?”

You couldn’t speak.

“I think I almost died,” you whispered. “And the last thing I said to you was ‘screw off.’”

His head dropped lower. You heard him exhale like he’d just taken a blow to the ribs.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been replaying it since the call came in. Over and over.”

Silence hung between you for a beat.

Then, softly, tenderly—he knelt beside the bed.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You turned back, slowly. Carefully.

He touched your hand again, feather-light. “You’re still beautiful,” he said, sure and steady. “Even if the world doesn’t deserve to see it.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks before you could stop them.

And he caught you, just like that.

Pulled you into his chest again, carefully, protectively, like holding you was the only thing keeping his own heart beating.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. Over and over, a mantra. A vow. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

You buried your face against him and sobbed. Ugly, wracking, breathless sobs. And he didn’t flinch. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t try to fix it.

He just held you.

His hand stroked your hair. His other cradled your ruined face with unbearable gentleness.

And when he kissed you—soft, slow, like you were made of starlight and scars—it wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a promise. A heartbeat shared.

“Next time,” he murmured once the storm of tears passed, “you wait. You call me, even if you think I’m still mad. I don’t care if we fight. I don’t care if we scream at each other about fucking toast—you don’t get to run off and almost die, [Name]. Not without me.”

You nodded weakly, breath shaky.

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing your temple again. “Because I’m not fucking doing this again.”

He sat back on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand. His thumb rubbed circles into your skin like he didn’t know how to stop.

“I can’t lose you, baby,” he said, softer now. “You’re it for me. You’ve been it.”

You looked at him, your chest aching with guilt and grief.

“You really think I’m still… me?”

“I think you’re even more you now,” he said, like it was obvious. “You ran into hell to save kids. That’s exactly who you are. And that’s exactly who I love.”

Your voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed your knuckles. “Don’t be sorry for surviving.”

“I’m sorry for leaving that morning. For walking out.”

“I should’ve stopped you,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kissed you goodbye.”

He leaned down again, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re still here,” he murmured. “And I’m gonna spend every damn day making sure you stay that way.”

You closed your eyes.

“I love you, Kats.”

His breath caught.

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much it hurts.”

← MHA ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. i lowkey love writing angst..

© 2025 chaeuvy ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

[dimplesxx]

sukuna loves making you squirt.

that’s why you’ve been sitting on his face for almost two hours straight and you’ve squirted already twice, on top of the five other times he made you cum.

he’s still leaning back, smirking like the cocky bastard he is, holding you right over his face, letting every wet gush hit him. his hands dig into your hips, keeping you close as you grind against his face, “fuck… you’re dripping all over me.”

you whimper softly, almost nothing and he chuckles darkly. “quiet now, yeah? don’t worry, princess, i got you.” then he drags a finger inside, curling it just right, teasing you so hard your hips jerk against him. “shit… that’s it, come on, let go for me,” he hisses, pressing your cunt closer to his face.

he tilts his head, opening his mouth as you spill straight in. he groans, loud and filthy, “so fuckin’ good. taste so fuckin’ sweet… jesus christ, look at you, shaking like crazy.” he licks slow, swirling his tongue through every drop, savoring you.

“so fuckin’ wet… all this for me, huh?” he murmurs, smirk wide, eyes dark, holding your weight on top of him like you’re his messy little prize.

your legs shake and your hips start to move on their own. “y-yeah… all because of y-you…” you stammer, voice small but dripping with need. sukuna grins, teeth flashing and voice ragged. “good girl… fuck, squirt for me again, come on.”

and you do.

another wave hits him, and he whimpers—like an actual whimper—curling his fingers even more tighter into your sloppy cunt. “fuck, that’s it… all over my face… taste so sweet, you little dirty slut,” he hisses, tilting his head to catch every drop. your moans mix with his growls, heat thick in the room.

“you like this? watching me covered in your mess?” he rasps. “i bet you’ve wanted me to make you this dirty… huh?”

“y-yes… i… i wanted it, kuna..” you gasp, hands clutching his hair, pulling his mouth closer to your sex.

he laughs, pressing his face into you again. “fucking hell… you’re mine, every bit… gonna coat me till i can’t see straight… i’m gonna make you squirt again till you pass out. want you to make me taste every little bit.”

you keep pushing your hips against his face. “that’s it… my filthy little girl wants it? doesn’t she? fuck i could do this forever.”

and well, it feels like forever when he keeps making you squirt the entire night.

[dimplesxx]

THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS??? , jjk smau

★ sending: you were overcharged for an oil change prank!

☆ received: no warnings, just swearing. inspired by me having to put him on the phone with the mechanic bc i WILL get scammed LMAO 100+ for an oil change? fuck it! you're the mechanic, not me! also ignore any timestamps, i'm a lazy fuck and won't edit them out...

includes gojo, sukuna, toji, geto, and choso in that exact order! enjoy and don't forget to like, reblog, or whatever the fuck ❤︎

[dimplesxx]

yuji itadori doesn’t mean to break you.

he’s all sunshine and sweetness — wide shoulders, pink hair, the kind of boy who helps old ladies with their bags and says “bless you” when people sneeze.

and he has no idea that every time he hugs you (tight, arms low, cheek pressed to your temple), he’s giving you another reason to lose your mind when you’re alone.

because he’s big. he’s warm. and he doesn’t pull away when your thick thighs brush his or when your soft belly presses against his abs.

you try to be normal. polite. sweet.

but then there’s him, stretching beside you in a tank top, moaning about how sore his muscles are. tossing his hoodie off like it doesn’t drive you crazy. and laughing — always laughing — in that boyish, god-help-me way that makes you think about things you shouldn’t.

like riding his thigh. or sitting on his face until you cry. or letting him hold your wrists while he pushes his big, meaty cock into your weeping cunt.

“you okay?” he asks one day, blinking those honey eyes at you.

no. you’re not. you’re soaked and sinful and ruined just from looking at him.

but you smile. you nod. because you’re a good girl.

and good girls don’t beg to be split in two by their best friend.

[dimplesxx]

Pls pls pls help a girl out!!

Its shark 🦈 week and whenever I’m in shark week I crave angst full on body angst ne you write it best 😭 pity me

I write it the best…? 🥺🩷 also no specific character in mind for this, but yall are married so 🫶🏻

————-

You’ve been yelling at each other for hours.

The circles of verbal assault haven’t slowed its pace, vile, cruel words flying from one mouth to pierce the heart of the other, only for the other words to come harder, meaner, louder. The throes of anger keep you both pinned in place, unable to stop, think, and see the damage you’re causing each other.

Your hands are swollen from your fists being so tightly balled, migraine forming from your scowling. His brows are stuck pinched in the center of his forehead, so deep you’re convinced they’ll stay there for days after you’re done. His teeth are grit so tight together that you want to massage his jaw to make them loosen before he shatters his pearly whites into pieces.

The culprit? A cold cup of tea, that now sits to the side dejectedly.

Because of that cold cup of tea, you’ve been screaming for two, going onto three hours, with no end in sight.

But, it’s not about the cold tea. It’s about the fact that the urgency in your love is gone, the quickness and determination to be with each other has dissolved into nothing but sugar melting in a mug of tea. Your time together has been awkward, it’s been minimal, and in your search to do something nice for him, like a warm cup of tea, he allowed it to get cold, and… what happened next?

There’s boundaries being crossed, lines of truce being broken as you cast vicious words against each other, the use of insecurities to make the other crumble and conjure a look of hurt, only to morph to disgust and yell back something even more heinous.

And yet…

“What did I even marry you for?” He snarls, throwing his arms out. “I’m certain it wasn’t for this! So why are we wasting our time right now?”

Your world stops.

In an instant, all words die on your tongue. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as all you can think about are his words. They repeat in your head, almost in slow motion, as your heart sinks in your chest.

“What…?” you croak. Your throat is dry, mouth cottony, and you silently pray to anything, holy and not, merciful and malicious, that you didn’t hear him right. Your mind is lying, so tired of fighting you’re seeing the worst in him as a defense mechanism.

“You heard me,” he barks. “Your life is so miserable? You hate it here so much? GO.”

You heard him right.

You wished you hadn’t.

Your arms come up to cradle yourself in comfort, the fire swirling in your chest now extinguished, the once lively fight now being reduced to a ringing in your ear.

You’d… when did he…

“You don’t get to sit here, call me a cheater, a loser, a liar, all for your own good mind. Not when I’ve put my whole LIFE into you. I gave you my WHOLE. LIFE.”

“Why…”

“What?” He snarls.

You sniffle. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you blink a line of scalding tears out; you’re surprised they don’t sizzle your flesh from being so hot with frustration.

“Why… are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” He snaps. “Mean, you’ve called me some of the cruelest shit I’ve ever heard in your vocabulary, but I’m being mean? Do you even hear yourself, IM THE MEAN ONE?”

“Do you really wonder why you married me…?”

Your voice is so quiet, you wonder if he heard you.

He opens his mouth to spew his venom, only to stop dead in his tracks. His brows soften as his eyes widen, jaw slacking subtly. For the first time tonight, the room is quiet; still thick enough to cut the tension with a blade, but it’s quiet enough where you both can gather your thoughts.

You wipe your nose with your arm, “do you really think I want to stay here and fight with you? Is that how you think I want to spend my night with you?” You sob softly, “because it’s not. I don’t want to fight with you over cold tea… I don’t want to…”

You can practically see the lightbulb over his head light up. That’s right, you think to yourself. This is about tea.

“I…”

“I don’t question why I married you,” you whimper. “I know exactly why- because I love you. But the man I know would never, and I mean never, verbally assault and question his love for me over a cold. Cup. Of. Tea.”

“I don’t…” he shakes softly. “How did we get here…?”

“You started this war,” you hiss. “I didn’t.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you fucking baby me,” you snap. “No. You don’t get to do that as a way to weasel out of this. You’re not going to guilt me with pet names to forgive you.”

“No, no, baby- damn, no, I mean-“

“You know what?” You pull your lips down into a frown and throw your hands out in defeat. “You want me gone so bad? I’m gone.”

“No, no, wait,” he begs, reaching out for one of your hands. You whip them back like he’s made of fire, and he reels away, as if keeping you safe, “no, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t question my love for you, I’d rather die than ever have you wonder if I love you-“

“Then you’d better have a goddamned good explanation for this,” you hiss. “Because right now? We’re done.”

“No!”

“I’m…” your strength is gone. Your lip quivers and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you wail as you make a dash out of the room, darting for the bedroom. You lock the door and slam your fist against the wood, screaming, howling in agony at the heartbreak of potentially losing your husband over a cold cup of tea.

Things spiraled so far out of control, that he questioned his love for you. How are you to come back from that? Angry words are truth shrouded in cruelty, and you are not going to let him berate you in such a manner as to wonder if this marriage was a good choice. You deserve far more, far better, than that.

On the other side of the door, you hear a soft poomf, then a thump. You stop crying to try and figure out the noises and their purpose.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, a far different tone from how he was speaking to you not three minutes ago. “I won’t try to come in. I won’t make you talk to me. But I’m here… and I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Bite me,” you choke.

You hear him sigh through his nose, “I… I know why I married you,” he whispers. You don’t say anything. He continues regardless, “because you’re you. And on our first date, you were late because you hated the outfit you had planned, but you looked so fucking good, I couldn’t handle it. And it was that day, I decided I wanted to wait for you, forever. You are more than worth waiting for. And…” you hear him clear his throat, but there’s an emotional block in his voice, “I’ll keep waiting for you. Right here, on this floor. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat, I’ll piss I’ll die here, I don’t care, I’m right here. And I’ll stay here to prove that you’re worth waiting for.” He shudders.

“I’m happy to wait for you.”

———

haikyuu: daichi, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, yaku, iwaizumi, mattsun, hanamakki, oikawa, kyotani, ushijima (different font), kita (also different font), atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa, meian

bnha: bakugou, dabi, hawks

jjk: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu

tokyo rev: baji, draken, mikey, hanma, rindou

[dimplesxx]

dad bod!toji who’s still the big, muscular man he is but you can tell he’s gotten older and his metabolism has slowed down a little bit. He’s gotten chubbier in his arms, thighs, tummy. Not to mention, he’s started to gray and grow stubble on his face, the perfect salt and pepper mix. Toji says he hates it, always moaning and groaning about needing to hit the gym but you…? You fucking love it. It takes everything in you not to ravish his right then and there, wanting to pounce on him every second of the day. You’re always kissing up on him, grabbing on him, dragging him to the laundry room while the kids watching tv so you could have a quickie. And he’s so confused on where all this extra energy and affection has sprouted from, but he loves it. You’re always so eager for him, fucking your self on his cock, him waking up to you kissing his neck and stroking his dick, dropping to your knees and giving him head without his asking. He wonders what he’s done to deserve all of it.

He’s standing in the mirror one late night with his shirt off, examining just how chubby he’s gotten. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure, thinking how gorgeous you are and how you shouldn’t settle for him. “I’m losing myself,” he grumbles. “What’s going on, baby?” You walk in the room, a smile immediately on your face when you see his shirt is off, definitely a sight to see. “I need to head to the gym is what’s going on.” He flexes his muscles in the mirror. You giggle and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist. “I think you look so handsome with a little weight on you,” you whisper in his ear. “Does something to me.” You nibble on his ear before trailing kisses along his jaw, and that’s when Toji realizes why you’ve been so affectionate with him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

Just mere minutes later, you’re riding him like your life depends on it, slamming your hips down on his, creating a sticky mess between you two. “S-shit,” he pants, “slow down, mama—fuck!” His bruising grips on your hips only tighten the faster you ride him. Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, clenching around his throbbing cock. “I can’t…you get so me so hot and bothered, baby.” You grin, running your hands down his chest.

He swears he could cum right then and there, with the way you were riding him and that look in your eye, he was ready to give you another kid. And now you were kissing his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. “You’re so perfect, Toji,” you mewl. “Fuck me.” His eyes roll back before fluttering shut. “Keep going, yes, yes, just like that, mama. You’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he groans. You keep that same rhythm, squeezing your pussy around him, milking him. He suddenly wraps his arms around you, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Ah, fuck!” You cry out, your cum dripping down his shaft. His thrusts grow sloppier and harder and next thing you know he’s filling you up, pushing his cum deeper inside of you with slow thrusts. Laughter erupts from your chest as you catch your breath, kissing him slowly and passionately.

“Mmm, goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you to his chest. “Now I finally know why you’re so goddamn horny all the time,” he chuckles. You blink up at him with a small smirk. “Can you blame me?” You trace patterns on his skin. He can see the look in your eye, that hungry stare you’re giving him, wanting more. “What are you thinking about, hm?” He caresses your cheek. “Oh nothing…just how badly I wanna give you some head right now, but I’ll wait.”

[dimplesxx]

SUKUNA RYOMEN: “THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD WORTH KNEELING FOR.”

sukuna loves to see you cry—but he doesn’t like it when you turn away from him. (short 1.6k fic heavily inspired by a dream i had)

cw. female reader, true form sukuna, reader is sukuna’s wife, mean sukuna (he gets progressively softer), no beta we die as always

Sukuna knows he’s done something wrong when you refuse to meet his eye at the hallways. No greetings, no nothing. But you don’t voice it out loud, so he has no sure way of knowing.

He tests that theory and disappears for three straight days. When he returns, the estate is as still as a tranquil lake. He almost misses having random objects thrown at him; something you usually do when he leaves the estate without prior notice.

At dinner, your seat is empty. When he turns to Uraume, they just give him a solemn shake of the head. No explanations—like they knew something he didn’t.

When he walks the corridors, an uncomfortable silence stretches ahead—unpleasant, unfamiliar. You didn’t even bother to come out of your quarters.

This foolishness ends today.

Sukuna is fuming. He’s sent Uraume to relay the message that he’s looking for you but you never showed up. He has no time for your bullshit; if you won’t go to him obediently, he’ll come to you instead.

He walked to your quarters—only to find the door locked.

So he breaks it down.

“Wife.”

Sukuna is now standing in front of you, his full height casting a shadow over your sitting figure. You didn’t look up.

He can feel his patience thinning. “Woman.”

Even then, you ignore him completely, finding it more entertaining to play a game of shogi against yourself.

He reaches out a hand to your face but you smack it away swiftly.

Sukuna grunts in displeasure at your rejection. You may be his lover, but Sukuna Ryōmen doesn’t take kindly to disobedience. He moves forward, causing you to back away until you hit the wall.

You gasp when he slams his arms on the sides of your head, his other two arms clutching your wrist.

“Let go!”

But Sukuna merely tightens his grip. “Do you think you can avoid me forever?”

“Why do you care?”

Sukuna reels back, feeling the last threads of his patience snapping—almost. “What is with this attitude? If you have something to say to me, say it.”

“Last month,” you finally look at his crimson eyes, “I waited for you all night. You never came. I waited all night, Sukuna!”

He stares at you. What is this joke? He searches his memories, finally registering the events you’re talking about. He did fail to show up one night, and you’ve been frosty to him ever since.

“All this... over me skipping dinner?”

Stilling, you meet his incredulous gaze and glare at him. “It was our anniversary, bastard.”

Sukuna sighs, the puzzle pieces finally clicking together. He doesn’t know why you love to place such a huge significance over some dates — anniversaries, birthdays, what other godforsaken days, — when no matter the occasion, the ferocity of his love remains unchanged.

“I was preoccupied.”

“With Uraume?”

The sentence came out more accusatory than you planned. It causes your husband to raise an eyebrow, loosening his hold on you. Taking that chance, you immediately break free, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Hoo~,” Sukuna shifts, his lips stretching into a mean grin, “do I hear jealousy?”

“Fuck you.”

He grips your chin, forcing it upwards. “I will not have my wife insult me continuously. Let’s put that mouth into good use, hmm?” he leans down, his gaze fixed on your lips—

But you turn away, eyebrows knitted in defiance.

Sukuna feels his annoyance start to prick. “You refuse to kiss me now?”

No matter how hard you try to hide it, he can see it clearly—the slight shake in your shoulders, the wetness in the corner of your eyes, the faint pink on your nose.

You’re holding yourself back from crying.

His eyes narrow, “If you’re not going to even look at me, perhaps I should find Uraume instead.”

He doesn’t mean it, of course. The very notion that you thought of his relationship with Uraume as something more than master and subordinate makes him feel sick. Disgusting—

In front of him, your figure has begun to tremble, long eyelashes dampening with tears.

—but seeing you squirm is a delicacy like no other.

You don’t cry often, so when you do, Sukuna feels something dark flicker inside him. The thought that only he is able to make you feel things so greatly gives him a high.

“Come now, are you really crying over something like this?” Sukuna grumbles, pretending that your tears didn’t awaken something primal inside of him.

But it was weird: it usually takes more than that to ire you. Way, way more. He’d have to wipe out cities and slaughter hundreds of lives to get you to come to him with that disapproving look on your face.

Sukuna will admit that he loves it—your attention. But now, something is different. You’re still refusing to look at him, even going as far as to muffle your cries. Your whole body is turned away from him, like you want to get away.

That, he doesn’t love.

“Look at me.”

You stubbornly inch yourself away from him, sobs starting to escape from your lips.

There it is.

You cry so beautifully, it makes him want to ruin you. Yet, at the same time, he feels a surge of something uncomfortable—the more you sob, the more he has difficulty breathing.

Sukuna didn’t know he was capable of having a guilty conscience.

“Alright, alright. Cease this at once. Look at me.”

Sukuna wrenches your hands away from your face. The sight that greets him makes him feel it again—the irritating dread that crawls up his stomach.

Even with tears running down your face, you’re still glaring at him with those red, puffy eyes. He sees your lips, bleeding from how hard you were biting them. They quiver, and you almost bite them again—but this time, Sukuna is quicker.

His lips crashes onto yours with urgency. He can taste the metallic taste of your blood, a taste that he loves—but not this time, not this way.

His hands has moved to your palms, clasping them with a rare gentleness. He can feel the resistance leaving your body slowly as you melt against him.

“There’s my girl,” Sukuna grins when he pulls away, his breath still hot on your lips, “no more crying.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you.”

Sukuna huffs. He could just leave you to deal with your own anger, but he had a feeling that the consequences of him doing that would come back to bite him in the ass. “Do you wish to know why I failed to show up to dinner that time?”

“If you were meeting with another woman, I don’t want to hear it.” you say, looking away from him.

Being Sukuna’s wife is many things: exciting, intoxicating,—but easy, it is not. Sometimes you can’t figure out whether he truly loves you, not when he never says the words out loud. For him, love is worthless. Who’s to say you’re not another thing he picks up out of interest, only to throw away?

Sukuna stays silent, only moving to kiss you again with more force than before—like he’s giving you an answer. His big hands are still clasped over yours. For a moment, you consider forgiving him.

Then he bites your lip. Hard.

“Sukuna!” you jerk away from him, looking at him in disbelief.

“I will forgive you this once for spouting such nonsense,” Sukuna’s voice is low with warning, “there will be no next time.”

You look at him, wronged.

Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his salmon hair. “Is it not your birthday coming up soon?”

You tilt your head.

It’s only after the king of curses presents you with a large bouquet of peonies do you finally understand: he missed your anniversary because he was busy procuring flowers—for your birthday, no less.

It’s such an unfamiliar sight—an oddly domestic one, that you can’t help but let a smile crack through your features.

“I do not care for this ‘anniversary’ you talk about. I am more than capable of giving you the same amount of affection every single day. But the day of your birth, I do see some significance in,” Sukuna doesn’t notice the giddy smile on your face and continues with his explanation, “and while your taste in flowers are exquisite, peonies are not easy to get.”

“But still, you could’ve told me or something.” you pout, hoping he’ll console you, “I waited for hours like an idiot. The servants will think I’ve lost favor with you.”

Displeasure flashes across Sukuna’s face. “Who would dare to make such assumptions? I will have their heads immediately.”

“That’s not the point!”

The point is, Sukuna is growing tired of your stubborness.

He sighs and lowers himself on one knee, reaching for your hand and guiding it to rest against his cheek. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the gesture.

“Ha, you’re smiling now? I have not even said anything,” there’s no mistaking the teasing in his tone, “wife, do you like seeing me below you, begging to be forgiven?”

Yes, you almost voice out your answer. The smirk on Sukuna’s lips widens, his eyes studying your reactions intently.

“Feeling proud of yourself I see,” he mocks, “Well, you should be. You alone are the only person in this world I kneel for.”

His nonchalant straightforwardness sends shivers down your spine.

Sukuna glances up at you, “Now, are you still going to deny me of your affection?”

You immediately leap into his arms, letting his arms engulf you. Sukuna just chuckles, immediately knowing that he is forgiven.

He still does not understand the significance people put in certain days, or actions. What he does know is how much he hates it when you avoid him. So if all it takes for you to forgive him are some flowers and him getting down on one knee—well, he’ll gladly do so, as many times as you wish.

“I love you, Kuna.”

He doesn’t reply. But the content hum that vibrates through his chest gives you all the answers you need.

@goxjo it’s here :’) !!

[dimplesxx]

⋆˚✿˖° wife!reader stepping out of the comfort of her air-conditioned home, to check on husband!sukuna, who has been out in the scorching summer heat for god knows how long.

wife!reader who, on her way to scold him for staying out in this heat for so long, freezes in her tracks when she sees a very toned, shirtless , husband!sukuna, who seems to be working on what looks to be a garden.

wife!reader who barely registers the pinks, greens, and purples he’s planted because she’s too busy ogling her hunk of a husband.

husband!sukuna, who smirks when he notices her shamelessly staring.

husband!sukuna, who doesn’t hesitate to carry her back to their shared bedroom—the garden can wait, he thinks, especially when his most delicate flower is moaning so sweetly beneath him. 

[dimplesxx]

The lion does not concern itself with the bank account balance when a little treat is calling

[dimplesxx]

THE FIRST TIME THEY GIVE YOU HEAD + SQUIRTING | 18+

Including: Sukuna Ryoumen, Itadori Yuuji, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Fushiguro Megumi

TW: explicit smut, implied female reader, oral sex, squirting.

Minors DNI

★ SUKUNA — “You’re gonna make a mess, sweetheart. Don’t you dare run from it.”

Sukuna’s obsessed with ruining you. The first time he decides to go down on you, he’s not gentle. It’s not about pleasure—it’s about control. About seeing you completely unravel beneath his tongue.

He has you spread out on silk sheets, thighs trembling as his hands grip your hips, pinning you down even as you squirm.

“You keep running from me, brat,” he murmurs, lips brushing your inner thigh, fangs grazing your skin. “But you’ll thank me when you’re crying all over this bed.”

And when he finally licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, his tongue is lethal—all skill, no mercy. He’s relentless. He devours you like he’s starving, tongue flicking and curling against your clit in maddening, torturous circles.

He feels it when your body starts shaking—that edge, sharp and sweet.

“Oh, you’re close, aren’t you? That little pussy’s about to give out on me.”

When his fingers sink into you—curling, seeking, pressing that spot deep inside—it’s over.

You’re gasping, legs kicking, the world going white as you squirt for the first time, soaking his face, the sheets, everything.

But Sukuna’s grinning against your folds, lips glistening with your slick.

“Look at that mess. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He drags his tongue slow, savoring every drop. “You’re not done. You’ll do it again. For me.”

⸻

★ YUJI ITADORI — “Wanna taste you, baby. Wanna see you fall apart just for me.”

Yuji’s a pleasure-giver. He’s all about making you feel good, and when he learns you’ve never squirted before? Challenge accepted.

He’s a bit breathless as he kisses down your body, murmuring praises into your skin.

“You’re so pretty, babe. Gonna make you feel so good. You trust me, right?”

When he gets his mouth on you, Yuji’s tongue is gentle but hungry—lapping up your slick like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, moaning into you with every flick and suck.

His fingers are big, but he’s careful—curling them inside you at the perfect angle, watching your face the entire time.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart? Yeah? Can you take a little more for me?”

When you start to tense, gasping, shaking, he knows.

But he doesn’t stop.

“Don’t hold back, baby. Wanna see you let go. Wanna taste all of you.”

He keeps the rhythm—tongue swirling, fingers pumping just right—until you break.

It hits like a wave—your body convulsing, squirting hard, a wrecked moan ripping from your throat as you soak his hand, his face, the sheets.

Yuji’s eyes go wide, flushed and turned on beyond belief, but so damn proud.

“Holy shit. You’re incredible.”

He licks up every drop, grinning like the sweetest menace. “Round two?”

⸻

★ GOJO SATORU — “You didn’t think I’d let you off easy, did you?”

Gojo makes it a performance. He’ll tease you for hours, worshipping your thighs, sucking hickeys into your skin while avoiding your clit like a sadistic tease.

“You’re so jumpy, baby. Haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

When he finally gives in, Gojo’s mouth is sinful.

He takes his time—lazy licks, soft sucks—until you’re begging him, hands tangled in his hair.

But once he feels you start to break? He devours you.

Messy. Loud. Sucking your clit like a man starved, fingers pumping into you until your hips jerk off the bed.

“Ohhh, there’s my good girl. You’re about to make a mess for me, huh?”

And when you squirt—soaking his face, whimpering his name—Gojo laughs, dark and satisfied, licking his lips as he looks up at you.

“Knew you had it in you. I’m insatiable, baby. You better brace yourself.”

⸻

★ GETO SUGURU — “Let me take care of you, love. Just breathe.”

Geto’s approach is slow, intimate. He’ll have you laid out on soft sheets, candles flickering, one of his large hands holding yours while the other holds you open for him.

He’s patient—kissing, licking, tasting you like you’re sacred.

But when he finds that perfect rhythm? You’re gone.

His fingers are long and relentless, pressing into that spot inside you that makes you choke on a sob, his mouth never leaving your clit.

“Let go for me, darling. Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.”

Your orgasm builds slow and heavy, and when it finally crashes over you—squirting so hard your thighs tremble—Geto just hums in approval, lips glistening as he murmurs, “So perfect. Let me do that again.”

⸻

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO — “I wanna make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

Megumi’s not cocky. But he’s intentional.

He watches every reaction—how you squirm, how your breath catches—as he kisses down your body, pulling your panties off with careful precision.

When his tongue flicks over your clit, it’s soft, focused, deliberate.

He wants to understand how to ruin you. And he does.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice breathless as his fingers curl up into you. “I’m right here.”

He doesn’t stop when you start to lose control.

He encourages it—pressing his palm against your lower belly, murmuring, “Let it go. I’ve got you.”

When you squirt for the first time, Megumi’s lips don’t leave you.

He drinks it in, holds you through every tremor, his voice soft and wrecked.

“You’re incredible. Fuck. Can I do that again?”

[dimplesxx]

6'4" AND he looks like this????

i would never not be bouncing on it

[dimplesxx]

Mr Lonely

Smau: in which the jjk men were your roommates in a modern au and they miss you - pt 2 to moving out and moving on Warnings: angsty, cursing, manipulative/unethical behaviour, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Want more roommate shenanigans? Pt 1

[dimplesxx]

Hiiiii thereeee!!!!!

I was hoping you could write something about Ex-husband Katsuki and they like co parents theri 7 yr old son.

And Kat's regretting everything, grovelling yearning, and longing something they could have been if he lowers his ego and pride. If he didn't miss important dinners, anniversaries and the way reader was tired being alone and thrown away.

Reader is now a university professor, with her son having half weeks visits from Kat's.

Idk how Kat's gonna woo Reader, you make the call cherrieshalo!!!

Love lotssss

y'all really be wanting divorced angst recently and you know what im so here for it

k.bakugo x fem!reader | angst but also fluff | prohero x professor | they're divorced LOL | 1.7k words

the first time it happened was your second wedding anniversary.

you sat quietly in the restaurant by yourself, staring at your drink as you assured the waiter that yes, your date was coming soon.

you felt pathetic as you flipped through the menu for what felt like the hundredth time just to seem busy. the waiter also came back for the hundredth time and you begrudgingly ordered yourself a slice of cake from the dessert menu. if your shitty husband couldn't show up, the least you could do is eat away your sorrows in a nice three-tiered chocolate mousse cake.

he finally arrived when you were leaving the restaurant, hair disheveled and smears of dirt across his face as he stumbled in through the doorway. you rolled your eyes with a sigh, informing him how you waited for over an hour and you were going home.  the second time it happened was the birthday dinner your friends organized.

katsuki said he would be there, he promised, but was too busy out playing in his dynamight persona to even inform that he'd be late. it hurt, but you couldn't let it show. atleast you weren't alone this time.

after getting home, you stuffed what was supposed to be his portion of the meal into the fridge. no note, no text, nothing. maybe he'd figure it out.

the third time it happened? it was the worst. it wasn't an anniversary, a birthday, an event, or something similar.

you sat staring at the several positive pregancy tests in your hand. you had tried to tell your husband three times prior during the week, but he always brushed you off. he didn't find out until he saw you changing almost twelve weeks since your first attempt at trying to tell him the good news. maybe things would be better now...

wrong.

katsuki never went to a single appointment. didn't care enough about the gender or the baby. didn't attend the baby shower. hell, he fucking missed the birth. he came to the hospital the day after your son was born, bringing flowers and making sure to stay by your side. why couldnt the fucker have done that yesterday, huh?

he was sure to take off his shirt as he held his newborn son for the first time, staring down at his little scrunched nose and sleeping face. you couldn't help but think that maybe it was all over that maybe he'd going back to being the attentive lover he used to be.  yet he missed his child's first steps, words, crawls, solid foods, birthdays...it was horrible. a pain. you didn't even care about your birthday or anniversaries anymore, just your husband's lack of presence in his own son's life.

your last straw was when he expected you to show up on his birthday. take work off, cancel your class. you quite literally could not and he blew a fuse about it.

you served him with divorce papers shortly after.

you weren't going to take shit from a man, especially not one that wasn't supposed to be giving you shit in the first place.

katsuki yelled, screamed, nearly cried in disbelief at the thought of ever losing you. that only fueled you to press for a divorce even harder.

he got visitation rights. fucking visitation rights.

he was pissed, of course he was. that was his son! but after getting home from court and staring at the wall for a solid hour, it occured to him why.

katsuki fucked up. and he fucked up bad.

hell, he didn't deserve anything more than visitation rights.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

after katsuki got back from a lengthy business trip overseas, your now seven year old son insisted to have his father over for dinner. at home, with you! and honestly? you didn't even know if you wanted that man to step foot into the elevator of your apartment complex. the last time you had dinner with that man was sometime after giving birth and you did not want to do that again.

but who were you to deny such a simple thing from your baby boy?

you reluctantly agreed, grumbling to yourself about the blond asshole while grocery shopping and preparing the meal. your son set the table the best he could, giving up his favourite seat to his father with a scribbled (and poorly spelled) dynamight card sitting over the plate. great, you'd have to sit next to your ex-husband...

the doorbell rang and the young boy ran to open the door, immediately being scooped up by katsuki with one hand and resting him on his hip. "hey there, champ," he pressed several kisses to his son's face. "you've been good? yeah? good, yes. got some presents for ya."

your son cheered as katsuki put him down, handing a few gift bags to the young boy as he scampered off to go open them. katsuki stepped into the kitchen, placing down another few gift bags. "hey, ma. thanks for having me."  "sure..." you mumbled, wiping your hands on your apron. "he insisted having you. i'm just doing it for him."

"okay. figured. still thanking you, though. got you some shit during my trip. you don't have to keep it," you heard him mumble as he shuffled out of the kitchen. you eyed the gift bags, quickly grabbing them off the counter and quickly throwing them in your room.

you didn't want to think about that right now.

the young boy helped serve dinner, putting a lot on his father's plate because he knew he could (and absolutely would) eat everything in front of him. you didn't realize it until it was mentioned, but somehow you managed to cook your ex-husband's favourite meal.  the one you'd cook for him when he came home exhausted or when it was just your turn to cook over all.

it felt bitterly domestic and you wanted to bang your head against the wall.

as the two chatted beside you, your fork pushed around the food on your plate. it felt endless, feelings as if it would never be cleared.

this is what your family was supposed to look like. your high school sweetheart, your son, and yourself. dinner's together every night, talking about the day, and cracking jokes at the expensive of trying to get your son to get out of his moody phase that every seven year old goes through about eating vegetables.

you quickly excused yourself from the table, the creaking of the chair barely heard as you fled to the bathroom.

you couldn't cry right now. this was supposed to be a happy moment for your son, but how normal everything felt was like a repeated stab to the heart. you paced nervously around the 10-step area, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

getting upset over this was stupid.

you padded back out to the dining table and slid into your seat quietly before your thoughts were interupted by your son. "papa said he's taking me out for ice cream!! wanna come, mama??"

no. you really didn't.

the young boy pouted but nodded solemnly. "that's okay. he can be all mine!"

you wanted to vomit.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

as the new semester started, your thoughts were preoccupied with getting your child to school and getting to your own school on time. you had a track record for never showing up late and canceling class, so trying to wrangle the stubborn boy into his backpack and to the school gates was hard.

your heels clicked against the floor of the hallway as you attempted not to sprint to your lecture hall. stepping inside, you were greeted with a giant bouquet sitting directly on the podium.

huh, weird...you've never received flowers directly to your hall before. to your office for your birthday or as thank yous from the faculty, sure, but never where you held class.

after that, it became a weekly occurence.

you'd strut in during the start of each week to a new arrangement of flowers perched on the podium without fail. who the hell kept sending you flowers?

by the seventh week, there was a note. "good luck with midterms. -kb"

that little shit...

you sighed, beginning your morning lecture and pretending that your ex-husband sending over flowers was totally and completely normal.

during lunch, you hesitantly clicked on his contact and held your phone up to your year. the ringing of the dialtone reverberated in your head as you expected a third ring only for a voice to pick up.  "hey. i'm at the agency right now. do you need anything?"

shit, he picked up so fast.  "uhm, i..." fuck, maybe it wasn't him. but who the hell else did you know with the initials k.b??? "did you send me flowers?"  "yeah. have been for weeks now. thank you for finally fucking noticing." even over the phone your mind painted the picture the deep scowl on his face, brows knit together and forehead wrinkled.  "oh. why?"

"why not? thought you deserved them."

"we're not together anymore, katsuki. it's been 6 years..." you whispered into the speaker.  "tch."

the line went dead.

of course. cutting the line whenever confronted.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

once home, you quickly dug around in your room for the gift bags he left the last time he came over.

you never opened them, opting to leave them untouched as to not rub salt in the wound.

you sifted through each gift, the pit in your stomach growing deeper and deeper with each one.

the perfume he got you during a different mission overseas the first year the two of you were engaged. it was your favourite and you wore it everyday until it ran out.

some stupidly expensive watch to replace the shitty one you've been wearing to work for the last few years. your son must have tattled to him that you've been complaining about your's falling apart.

some fancy chocolates that were most likely expired now in flavours you used to gush to him about.

even after all these years, he still knew what you liked...

before you even knew it, tears started to roll down your cheeks. this was stupid. who the hell cried over their ex-husband years after a divorce?

you frantically reached for your phone, determined to call katsuki for the second time that day. you didn't even remember the last time you ever called him, but this was important.

maybe, after all these years, things could be salvaged.

maybe he didn't give up.

© property of cherrieshalo 2025 - please do not steal or copy my work to post elsewhere

[dimplesxx]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐷𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑂𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒

"Bakugo, I swear, not again..." you had said a few minutes ago, almost in a whisper, as you pushed away the cold plate you had prepared hours ago. The dinner was still there, untouched. The table set. Candles unlit. →⁠_⁠→ Part 2

He sighed, frustrated, and ran a hand through his messy blond hair. He made a small gesture of defeat, barely noticeable, almost like a nervous tic.

"You forgot again," you said without looking directly at him, your voice soft but firm, like a well-sharpened knife.

Bakugo closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard. His jaw clenched.

"I didn't forget. I got held up." His voice was deep, a little hoarse from yelling orders during an operation. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, still buzzing with mission alerts, reports, and messages from heroes in the field. He tossed it on the table.

"You missed dinner, Katsuki. Our dinner. You said tonight would be different. You said you'd try."

"I am trying! Damn it!" Bakugo's voice rose without meaning to. He took a step toward you but froze when he saw the way your brows furrowed, hurt, though you were trying not to show it.

Silence fell for a few seconds.

"I'm not out there slacking off. The city needs me. My job needs me!" he said through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

You stood up slowly, crossing your arms.

"And I don't need you? I don't count?"

"I didn't say that." Bakugo lowered his voice a bit, but it was still heavy with tension.

"Can we have a date later, okay?" he added, a desperate attempt to smooth things over.

"When?" you asked, not sarcastically, just with a painful sincerity.

He went still. For a second he looked like he was choking on the words. He furrowed his brows, doing mental math: patrols, training, a committee meeting, rotating night shifts...

"I don't know. I have to check… but we will, okay?"

You let out a humorless laugh, bitter enough to make his jaw tighten further.

"So now I gotta schedule a date with your secretary?"

"I didn’t mean it like that!" Bakugo snapped, his face flashing with instant regret—and helplessness.

Your shoulders dropped, like that was the final drop breaking the dam.

"There’s always a thousand things more important than us..."

Bakugo opened his mouth, but didn’t speak right away. His lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at the floor, then at you.

"Yeah... because that’s how it is," he finally let out. His voice wasn’t harsh anymore. It was honest. Raw. Painful.

And then there was silence. He stood in the middle of the room, you in front of him, just a meter apart—and yet, so far away.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[dimplesxx]

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

sukuna with a huge piss kink :p

your mouth’s swollen from how hard he’s been kissing you.

it’s the first thing he went for when he had you underneath him, tugging your jaw open with his thumb, biting your bottom lip until it throbbed. he hasn’t stopped since—every stroke of his cock punctuated by another needy, growling kiss, like he needs your lips as much as he needs your pussy.

“fuckin’ addicted to this mouth,” sukuna pants, thumb smearing the spit slick down your chin. “look at you, drippin’ on me, tongue out like a bitch in heat.”

you whimper, eyes hazy as you try to meet his gaze. his hands are everywhere—palming your tits, gripping your hips, fisting in your hair when he yanks you up to kiss you again. it’s not sweet. it’s messy, deep, sloppy. he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and groans into it, grinding deeper into your cunt like he’s trying to crawl inside you.

your thighs are trembling already, slick spread all over his cock, your clit catching on the swell of his pelvis with every thrust. it’s too much. too deep. he’s fucking you with zero mercy, hips punishing, sweat dripping from his temple as he watches your face twist up.

then you feel it—a warm pressure. his hand sliding low on your belly, right above your mound, and pressing down. firm and slow.

“kuna—ah!, stop,” you gasp, voice strained, fingers curling in his hair.

he freezes. his grip tightens.

“what?” his voice roughens, his jaw clenched. “you hurt?”

you shake your head quickly, “no!—no, i’m not hurt, i just—fuck, i have to pee.”

he pauses—then his eyes light up, his hips rolling slow against you.

“that right?” he mutters, voice roughening. “my cock that deep, baby? makin’ you wanna take a piss?”

“stop pushing there,” you whimper, squirming when his palm presses again, firm and strong right over your bladder.

he doesn’t listen. of course he doesn’t.

“fuck, feel that bulge,” he growls, thumb stroking right where his cock’s thickest inside you. “your little pussy’s full to the fuckin’ brim. s’that why you’re squirming? like i’m gonna fuck it right outta you?”

“kuna,” you whine, trying to twist your hips away. “what are you doing?”

he leans in close, teeth brushing your ear.

“just makin’ you feel good, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “don’t tell me this doesn’t feel fucking incredible.”

he grinds in deep again, cock stretching you open while his palm presses harder on your lower belly—and your whole body jerks at the pressure.

you cry out, desperate, overstimulated. “kuna, no, that’s—fuck!, that’s disgusting, i can’t—”

“you can,” he groans, kissing down your jaw. “your body’s beggin’ me for it. just let go, baby. make a fuckin’ mess on me.”

you try to shake your head again, lips trembling. “no, no, i don’t want to—”

he cuts you off, voice thick and low, licking his lips.

“i’ve already tasted your cum, your period, your spit,” he rasps, grinding deeper, “a little piss ain’t gonna scare me off. you’re mine—all of you, every filthy fuckin’ inch and drop. i wanna taste all of it.”

he thrusts again, wet and deep and slow, and it’s so much. too much. everything inside you tightens, your thighs shaking.

“you know how hot it is?” he pants, still grinding into you. “gonna cum all over this soaked fuckin’ cunt, ruin the sheets, ruin you. want your body so fucked up you can’t even tell where the cum ends and the piss starts.”

you moan, breath catching in your throat. you hate how good it feels—how heavy and hot and wrong the pressure is. your pussy clenches down around him with every roll of his hips, your belly tight and swollen under his palm.

and you feel it coming. that rush of something you can’t stop.

“fuck,” you sob, legs twitching. “kuna—mhh, it feels good, i can’t—”

that’s all it takes.

your body seizes up, and then it happens—hot liquid gushes between your legs, uncontrollable, drenching his thighs and the sheets beneath you. your face burns in humiliation, but sukuna groans, grinding deep and hard, watching you fall apart.

“ohhh fuck yes, that’s it, baby,” he snarls, his voice wrecked. “piss all over me. fuckin’ drown me. look how fuckin’ messy you are.”

his cock’s still inside you, twitching, your pussy spasming around him while he leans down to kiss you again, tongue hot and messy.

“so good for me,” he growls. “knew you’d give in. look how pretty you are when you break.”

he fucks you through it, body pressed to yours, skin soaked, lips never leaving yours as you moan into his mouth.

“so fucking slutty,” he laughs, voice low against your lips. “you’re fucking made for shit like that. you’re fucking made for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“shut up, kuna,” you mutter, voice hoarse, “you’re a freak…”

“you fuckin’ love it,” he hisses. “don’t lie.”

“whatever.” you try to shift under him, your legs trembling as you reach for the edge of the bed.

he narrows his eyes. “where are you going?”

“to take a shower,” you breathe.

his hand catches your thigh, pinning you back down.

“no need,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “just lay down and spread those legs. let me lick you clean.”

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

for my lovely baby @lily-bisque ur turn next!!!! :p

[dimplesxx]

dick analysis with blue lock men !

itoshi rin — 7.5 inches

thick, veiny, mean. the type of cock that has you wincing when he pushed in the tip. rin’s cock is a thick, veiny 7.5 inches—angry red tip, shaft twitching with every shallow thrust. he starts off mean, eyes sharp as he mutters, “tight. you always get this fucking tight for me?” his tone is flat, but the way his cock bullies your walls is anything but detached. but the moment you tighten around him, rin’s words vanish. his breath hitches, lips parted, pupils blown wide. he goes pussydrunk in complete silence, hips stuttering as his cock throbs, lost in the way you squeeze him. no words. just his ragged breathing, low groans, and his body trembling above you as he silently fucks himself deeper into your creamy cunt like a man addicted.

itoshi sae — 7 inches

sae’s pretty 7-inch cock glides in with lazy precision, tip glistening, smooth strokes that make you feel every ridge. his smirk never leaves, voice dropping low as he taunts, “look at you, can’t even take me without whining. you’re embarrassing.” he loves how you beg for him to move faster, but sae keeps his rhythm torturously slow, dipping his head close, whispering filth against your lips, “you’re made for this cock, aren’t you? you’ll take every fucking drop.” when he finally gives in and cums, his words melt into a soft, possessive groan, stuffing you full with a smirk and a condescending “good girl.”

isagi yoichi — 6.4 inches

upward curve and slightly long, isagi’s 6.4-inch cock isn’t the biggest, but the lethal curve has you seeing stars. he’s so damn desperate, hips jerking as he pants, “you feel so good, fuck, you feel too good.” his voice cracks when you clench around him, his praises slurring into breathless moans. “cum for me, baby, please—need to feel you cum on my cock.” he watches your face like it’s the only thing that matters, fucking you harder when you cry out his name. he cums buried deep, gasping, “fuck, i love you. gonna fill you up, take all of it, yeah?”

michael kaiser — 7.3 inches

kaiser’s 7.3-inch cock, girthy and long, drags against your walls like it owns you. he’s a smug fucker, voice dripping with mockery as he groans, “look at you. ruined already? i’m not even halfway done, baby.” he loves bending you into impossible angles, just to hear the messy sounds your pussy makes. he leans close, lips brushing your ear, “i could fuck you in front of a crowd and you’d still beg for more, wouldn’t you?” when he cums, he grips your jaw, forcing you to keep eye contact as his cock pulses inside you. “take it all, schatz. show me how good you’re trained.”

shidou ryusei — 7.8 inches

shidou’s fat 7.8-inch cock slams into you with no regard for decency, his voice a mix of growls and filthy laughter. “fuck, this pussy was made for me, huh? so greedy, just sucking me back in.” he’s brutal, pulling your hair, lips messy on your neck as he snarls, “you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? gonna milk me like a fucking slut.” he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re sobbing from overstimulation—he only fucks harder, dirtier, until his cum is spilling out of you and he’s licking it up just to spit it back onto your cunt.

yukimiya kenyu — 6.8 inches

pretty and slightly curved. yukimiya’s pretty 6.5-inch cock glides in so smooth, his lips ghosting over your skin as he whispers, “you’re perfect. so perfect for me.” his voice is sweet, but the way his hips snap into yours says otherwise. when you moan his name, his breath hitches, “you like it when i fuck you like this? want me to go deeper, love?” his praises melt into breathless groans, his thrusts getting rougher, desperate to drown you in pleasure. when he cums, it’s with a soft, broken “you’re mine,” spilling warmth deep inside you while he holds you close.

aiku oliver — 7.9 inches

aiku’s monstrous 7.9-inch cock stretches you in ways that feel illegal, his lazy smirk growing wider as you sob on his cock. “big, huh? can’t handle it, pretty girl?” his voice is slow, teasing, dripping with arrogance as he rolls his hips, making you take every inch no matter how much you whimper. “you’ll take it. i’ll make sure you’re filled so good, you won’t want any other cock.” his filthy words have you trembling, and when he cums, it’s a lot, slow, deep grinds that force every drop into your womb, his hand on your lower belly pressing down to make you feel it.

nagi seishiro — 8.3 inches

horse cock!nagi’s heavy 8.3-inch cock stretches you wide, his movements lazy but precise. he groans, voice deep and raspy, “so good… you’re so soft inside.” his lazy facade cracks when you moan, his grip tightening on your hips as he mutters, “you’re squeezing me too much, pretty. ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that.” his thrusts get rougher, slamming you down on his cock while his sleepy voice turns into needy whines, “stay still, lemme fuck you properly.” when he cums, his hips stutter, cock twitching as he murmurs, “fuck, you’re so good… my perfect girl.”

mikage reo — 7 inches

reo’s smooth 7-inch cock slides in with controlled, deep thrusts, his voice a mix of soft praises and dark promises. “you’re so good for me, baby. always take me so well.” he kisses you breathless, hips grinding into that sweet spot until you’re moaning. but when you start clenching too much, his tone drops, possessive and rough, “you’re mine. no one gets to see you like this but me.” his pace picks up, desperate to imprint himself into your body. he cums with a breathy groan, staying deep, muttering, “i’ll fuck you again later. gonna fill you until you’re leaking for days.”

a/n: ik this is a bit unrealistic but yea 😝 big dick!nagi truther til i die <3

based on this req !

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athletic trainer and godzilla fan iwaizumi hajime !!