#jjk geto drabble

[gumii-bearr]

gumiii the way u write megumi is so <333 woould u consider writing a geto one ??? possibly a cute drabble where we braid his hair or comb it out ???? (his hair is to die for honestly)

you love suguru’s hair.

maybe you’re jealous of how he keeps it so healthy and soft. maybe you’re obsessed with the content sighs that fall from his lips when you massage his scalp. maybe you just like him.

you’re always threading your fingers through his hair, spending the time to comb it out and take care of it— and he lets you, because you approach it with such tenderness and care that he’s not used to.

you’re sitting in the bath, your back pressed against his broad chest.

it’s warm and you may have added a little too much soap to the bath with the clouds of bubbles that form around you.

suguru has his muscular arms wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers drawing little patterns against your soft skin.

your eyes are fluttered closed, soft breaths falling from your pretty lips.

you’re so gentle with him, even when you’re resting, even when you’re upset or mad, even when you’re heart is so full and you don’t know where to put the rest.

suguru likes it best when you wash his hair. you seem to enjoy it more than him but he loves it.

he loves how you smile so wide and how your fingers treat him so delicately. he loves how you are careful to not get soap in his eyes and how you tell him to lean back so you can wash the shampoo away.

suguru knows it’s not just about his hair when it comes to you.

sure you seem to care more about his hair than your own, but it’s your way of showing him how much you cherish him.

suguru is not good at accepting help or affection when he knows he needs it. and you always know when he needs it.

“s’okay, suguru. i want to help”

it’s not just about his hair.

it’s about him and how much you love him.

[reissancesstuff]

“WHO are you?”

sypnosis: you're too drunk to recognize your boyfriend.

warnings: alcohol (reader is drunk), swearing.

featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna ryomen.

Gojo

You are absolutely, unapologetically, undeniably wasted.

You don’t even remember how many drinks you’ve had. All you know is that the room is spinning, your heels are in your hand, and you’re sitting outside the club on the curb with a pout that could kill a man.

“Satoru,” you mumble, squinting at your phone. “Why hasn’t he called me back? That bastard.”

You’re just about to text him for the eighth time (your phone is upside down, for the record) when a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“There you are,” the voice says, amused. “You’re lucky I’m sexy and patient.”

You blink up, shielding your eyes from the moonlight—or maybe it’s the streetlight, or maybe it's the glowing aura of the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. White-haired. Wearing a black coat and sunglasses, at night, like a menace.

You frown.

“Who,” you say seriously, “the fuck are you?”

He freezes.

You narrow your eyes further, wobbling to your feet and poking his chest.

“Back off, handsome stranger,” you declare. “I already have a boyfriend.”

He sputters. “Handsome? Wait—”

“He’s the love of my life,” you say proudly. “Six feet of nonsense. White hair. Smug face. He’s so annoying. But like, in a hot way.”

“…That’s literally just me,” he deadpans.

“Nooo,” you slur. “Satoru’s prettier.”

His jaw drops. “Excuse me?! I AM SATORU!”

You gasp. Loudly.

“Oh my god. You’re one of those crazy fans.”

“What???”

You stumble back, dramatically offended. “You wanna be him, don’t you? Is that why you dyed your hair? Is this cosplay?!”

Gojo stares at you, dumbfounded.

You wave your heel in the air like a sword. “Back off! I’m loyal!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Sweetheart—”

You cut him off, whispering, “Don’t call me that. Only Satoru calls me sweetheart.”

“…I am Satoru!”

A pause. Then, suddenly, you gasp again—like your brain has rebooted.

“Wait… You sound like him,” you say slowly, brows furrowing. “Say something only Satoru would say.”

He leans in, lips grazing your ear.

“I know how you like it when I kiss that one spot on your thigh.”

You shriek, smacking his chest. “Okay you’re him!!”

He laughs—loud, stupid, proud.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his coat as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

“You said I was hot,” he hums smugly. “I’m never letting that go.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, snuggling into him anyway. “Still prettier in my head.”

He kisses your forehead. “Good thing I’m also prettier in real life.”

---

By the time he gets you home, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

You wake up the next morning with a hangover, a glass of water on your nightstand, and a sticky note on your forehead.

"Handsome Stranger says hi. —Your boyfriend 💙"

You groan, burying your face in the pillow.

God, he’s never gonna let this go.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Geto

You’re drunk.

Like, embarrassingly drunk.

Like, sitting outside the izakaya barefoot with your shoes in your lap and a half-eaten skewer in your hand, slurring into your phone like it’s your long-lost best friend.

“Where the hell is Suguru?” you mumble. “I’m cold. And also beautiful. I deserve a ride.”

A shadow falls over you.

You look up—slowly, dramatically—and see a tall, broad figure standing above you, dark hair in a low bun, wearing all black like he’s auditioning to be a villain in a slow-burn romance anime.

“Get up,” he says. Calm. Deep. Familiar.

You squint. “Oh my god.”

He raises a brow. “Yes?”

“You’re hot,” you whisper.

He sighs. “Baby, it’s me.”

“No,” you say, pointing a threatening skewer at him. “My boyfriend is nicer. He’s sweet. And warm. And smells like sandalwood and chaos. You look like a mafia boss. You probably steal hearts and credit cards.”

Suguru stares at you like he’s questioning all his life choices.

You stand up—well, try to—and nearly fall into him. His arms catch you effortlessly, like it’s muscle memory.

You shove a finger in his chest. “I’m taken. My boyfriend will kill you.”

“Will he?” he asks, humoring you. “Violent type?”

“The worst,” you say proudly. “He once glared at a guy so hard his hairline receded.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“He is,” you nod seriously. “And he calls me ‘sweetheart’ when he wants something.”

Suguru exhales a laugh, something low and fond. “Okay. What if I prove I’m him?”

You blink at him, considering. “…Fine. Do it.”

He steps close, close enough that his chest brushes yours.

“Two weeks ago, you said if I didn’t let you adopt a cat, you’d put glitter in my shampoo.”

Your jaw drops. “How did you—?!”

“Three days ago, you cried because a dog in a TikTok wore boots.”

“And last night,” he leans in, brushing his lips by your ear, “you told me I’m your favorite ‘tall dark and dangerous’ man, but you’d leave me instantly for Keanu Reeves.”

You gasp. “Suguru?!”

“Yes.”

“OH MY GOD.” You slap his arm. “Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

“I did.”

You cling to him, dramatic as ever. “I missed you. You smell good. Don’t ever leave me again.”

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward the car, shaking his head with the softest smile.

“You’re gonna regret all of this in the morning,” he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I regret nothing,” you slur. Then squint up at him. “Wait. Did you really glare a guy’s hairline off?”

“…That one might’ve been a little exaggerated.”

“Still hot.”

---

The next morning, you wake up in Suguru’s hoodie, with water, painkillers, and a sticky note on your phone:

“Mafia Boss says thank you for your compliments. You’re under permanent protection now. —Your real boyfriend 💌”

You bury your face in the pillow.

He’s never letting this go.

And honestly? You’re kind of glad.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Nanami

You’re sitting on a curb, absolutely wasted.

There’s glitter on your eyelids, chicken nuggets in your purse, and a girl from the bar sobbing beside you because her ex posted a gym selfie.

You offer her a nugget.

“You deserve better,” you tell her. “You’re gorgeous. Your eyebrows are, like, symmetrical. I’d marry you.”

She sniffles, then stares behind you. “Uhh… is that your boyfriend?”

You turn.

And see a tall, broad man walking up, sleeves rolled, tie loose, face unreadable—like God sent a male model from a finance firm to collect wayward souls off the street.

You frown.

“You look expensive,” you say slowly. “Are you one of those… high-end butlers?”

He stops in front of you. “You’re drunk.”

You blink. “How do you know?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend.”

Your jaw drops. “No you’re not. My boyfriend is… emotionally repressed. Wears beige. Has a sexy office job and a judgmental stare.”

Nanami sighs. “That’s me.”

You squint suspiciously. “Okay, if you’re really my boyfriend… what’s my weirdest habit?”

He looks down at you, voice flat. “You talk to plants. You name them. One is called Baby Groot. You cried when he lost a leaf.”

Your lips part. “Only he would know that…”

You wobble to your feet and nearly fall, catching yourself on his very firm chest. You clutch his shirt.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “You are my sexy office man.”

“Let’s go home,” he mutters, guiding you gently toward his car.

You dig your heels into the ground. “Wait! Waitwaitwait—don’t kidnap me! I have a boyfriend!”

“You just admitted I am your boyfriend.”

“…Oh. Right.” You giggle. “Lucky me.”

He helps you into the passenger seat like you’re fragile cargo. Once seated, you stare at him as he buckles you in.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur.

“I know.”

“And patient.”

“I have no choice.”

“You’re gonna marry me one day.”

His hands still for half a second.

Then: “I already plan to.”

You pass out smiling.

---

The next morning, you wake up in bed, dressed in your comfiest pajamas, with a glass of water, aspirin, and a note:

"In case you forget: yes, I am your boyfriend. No, I am not a butler. Please hydrate. —Kento"

You giggle into the pillow.

You’re definitely going to marry that man.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Toji

You are sitting on a barstool, double fisting two very illegally strong cocktails, laughing at absolutely nothing.

You're also very certain that a hot man is trying to kidnap you.

“Ma’am,” the man says, standing in front of you like an irritated wall of muscle. “It’s me.”

You look him up and down.

Black hair. Green eyes. Tall. Scary aura. Tight shirt. Very very hot.

But no. You're loyal.

You squint. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I picked you up from karaoke an hour ago.”

“Impossible,” you say dramatically. “My boyfriend would never show up to karaoke. He thinks fun is ‘a scam made by broke people.’”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he grunts.

You gasp. “You are hot though. Like, really hot. But listen—my boyfriend? He’s kinda mean, super strong, and terrifying. He could totally kill you.”

He stares.

You continue: “He’s also soooo good in bed. Real monster. Demon behavior. But he’s mine, so—”

Toji grabs your wrist. “Get your ass up.”

You gasp again. “You’re aggressive. Just like him. But he’d never touch me like that in public unless I pissed him off.”

“Oh?” he says, voice flat. “You mean like getting blackout drunk, threatening the DJ, and petting strangers' dogs without asking?”

You tilt your head. “So you do know me...”

“I live with you.”

You lean forward, squinting hard, then grab his face between your hands. “Say something only my boyfriend would say.”

He deadpans, “If you puke in my car again, I’m charging you five grand.”

Your mouth drops open. “Toji?!”

“Finally.”

You throw your arms around his neck. “Where have you been all night?!”

“Chasing your drunk ass down. Again.”

He tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking to his car.

“Wait,” you slur. “You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“But I’m your babygirl…”

He opens the car door. “You’re my goddamn headache.”

“Love you too!”

---

The next morning, you wake up with a hangover and a bruise on your hip that looks suspiciously like the edge of Toji’s shoulder.

You check your phone.

1 New Message from Toji

📸 [photo of you passed out face-first in his passenger seat, drooling]

Toji: Don’t drink again unless I’m there. Dumbass.

You smile.

Your murderous, scary, mean boyfriend is the best.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

Sukuna

You’re absolutely, irreparably hammered.

How do you know?

Because there is a gorgeous man standing in front of you with piercings, tattoos, and arms you’d like to sit on — and instead of flirting with him, you’re loudly sobbing to your friend.

“He’s gonna kill him. He’s gonna kill the hot guy,” you sniff.

“Who?”

“That guy,” you point at the very man you’re talking about. “He’s hot but he’s not my boyfriend. But he’s gonna die. My boyfriend is crazy.”

The man in question — the hot one — drags a hand down his face. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

You nod solemnly. “Yes. And you should leave before he finds you.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

You blink. “Noooo, my boyfriend has tattoos—”

He lifts his shirt.

“—oh my god you have tattoos,” you whisper.

“And piercings.”

You stare at the twin bars through his eyebrow and the silver glint on his tongue as he smirks.

“My boyfriend has those too!” you giggle. “But also, he’s terrifying. He’d murder you in an alley for touching me.”

He steps closer. “You mean like this?”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you flush against him.

You freeze. “Bold of you, hot stranger.”

He leans in, voice low and dark in your ear. “You bit me last time I tried to wake you up from a drunk nap.”

You gasp. “Sukuna?!”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sharp canines grazing your skin. “Now let’s get you in the damn car before I dump you in a gutter.”

You wrap your arms around him, eyes wide. “You’re so mean. I love you.”

“I know you do, dumbass.”

---

The next morning, you wake up to an ice pack on your head and a water bottle on your nightstand. Sukuna is sitting at the edge of the bed, scrolling his phone.

“…Did I threaten you again last night?” you mumble.

“You told me you’d report me to the FBI if I didn’t prove I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh god.”

“You also called me ‘Mr. Jail Tattoos’ and asked if I knew I was hot.”

“I hate myself.”

He glances at you with that lazy smirk. “You said, and I quote, ‘I wanna kiss you but my boyfriend’s gonna beat your ass.’”

You pull a pillow over your face. “Did you beat your own ass?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “But I did let you tackle me onto the bed. You drooled on my neck.”

“…Love you?”

He flicks your forehead. “Be less dumb next time.”

You grin. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Jail Tattoos.”

And he does, in fact, tackle you right back.

[xplicitviewz]

“Who’s calling?” Your husband, Nanami, huffs from above you, his hips snapping into you. Your teary eyes glance at your phone while you let out small whimpers. “I-it’s our son.” You breathe out, your thighs tremble beneath his hands holding them down beside you.

Nanami groans and stuffs his dick fully into you, a whine escaping your lips as he picks up the phone. Between his work schedule and your 4 kids, there isn’t time for you and your husband to partake in a your shared activities other than the few times you guys got creative.

There was this one time you guys had your oldest watch the kids while you guys went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, which ended in a quickie in the dark parking lot before heading home.

Or the other time you guys had a pool day and you went inside to start getting the snacks ready. Nanami followed shortly after to have himself his own quick snack. Both of your days are pretty busy, but Nanami never fails to make some time for you and your pussy. You can admit sex hasn’t really been a priority, until tonight. Upon realizing all the kids would be gone, you immediately called Nanami to be sure he brings his ass home when he is off and not do any overtime- yes you used your mom voice too. Nanami agreed not wanting to be scolded.

When he did get home, he noticed a few things, there was any tv on, or music blasting from your two oldest rooms. There weren’t toys scattered in the living room or the dining room table from your two youngest, no yelling or screaming from all of them in general, it was just quiet. He smelt food in the air, he usually does every night he comes home but it’d be already eaten, or everyone will be eating at the dinner table (he insists not to wait for him because he often stays late) but since he left early from work, it isn’t ready just yet. He quickly rushes up the stairs, starting to feel the panic seep in just a bit, all the kids rooms are empty.

He opens his shared bedroom to see you just laying on your stomach, in the silky robe he got you, reading a book. He calms down because if you were okay, surely, the kids were too. His eyes gaze down your figure, your feet are in the air crossed, while you read. The robe sits at your upper thigh, and since it’s so thin, your ass pops out in the most desirable way possible. “Honey?” He eyes you suspiciously, taking a breath as he starts to settle down, “Where are the kids.”

You heard the front door shut, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the arousal hit you even more. The book you have been reading had been in your mind, and hearing your husband come home really made you ready to take him, full. You had dinner cooking in the oven, almost ready to serve for just Nanami and you. Your oldest son is at a movie with his friends and they are going to go eat after. Your second oldest daughter is spending the night with her best friend, and your two youngest are sleeping over with their grandparents. To say you were practically rushing your oldest son to leave already, since he was the last one to go, was an understatement.

“They are busy and safe.” You closed the book and turn your body towards him, your eyes hungry before you looked at him, but damn near starving when you did. That damn suit and tie. You explained where they all were as you sat up in the bed, impulsively pushing your chest out as you leaned back on your arms. Nanami didn’t ignore the lustful look in your eye, the way your nipples perked against the thin fabric, only assuming you had nothing on underneath. He quickly put a few things together, why you called him to not do overtime. He knew what his wife wanted, at least he thought so.

When your sweet loving husband started off kissing your neck, waiting to use the few hours to just worship your body, you, your hands cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye, “Honey, I love you so much and I know that you do but tonight-right now I need you to fuck me like you don’t. I want y-“ His eyes darkens more at your plea, how desperate you were truly. How can he ever say no to his gorgeous wife. He cuts you off with a kiss before he started fucking you every way loose. Yes exactly what I said. But of course no matter what time it is, you guys are parents after all….

“What?” Nanami answers the call, still buried deep inside you, grinding against you as his thumb circles your clit.

“..Oh Hey dad, where’s mo-“

“She’s busy, are you okay, why are you blowing up her phone?” Nanami cuts your son off, his eyes focused on you squirming around, biting your lip to keep any lewd sounds hushed while he was on the phone with your son. He speeds up his movements on your clit, softly sucking in a breath when you clench tightly around his dick.

“I wanna buy some snacks and get some food after the movie, mom said she’ll send me m-“

“How much?” Nanami asked wanting him to get to the point so he can get back to his wife. He slowly pulling out before pushing himself back in. Your hand quickly covers your mouth as you shut your eyes. Your legs were shaking crazy. Your husband wasn’t one to always be rough in bed, but the times he is, you would feel it for days, in the best way possible. (He has that dog in him😞) Nanami definitely isn’t holding back, not when it’s been this long you guys were kid free for a few hours and together at that. Nanami was making up for lost time, fingering you until you couldn’t talk properly, eating your pussy like it personally offended him, fucking you left, right, up, down, diagonal, all up until your phone kept blowing up.

“Like about $40.”

“Okay, give me a moment.” Nanami grunts, as he bottoms out again, the way you squeezed his dick nearly knocked him out cold. He feels his dick throb inside you and pulls the phone away from his ear, breathing heavy.

“Thanks d-“

Nanami hangs up the phone and tosses it beside you before leaning in closer to you, peeling your hand away from your mouth and pulling it above your head. “Tell me something honey.” He hums kissing your swollen lips.

You whimper as he fucks you again, slow but rough this time, ”y-yes?” You gasp as he hits your cervix.

“When the kids ask for money, do you send it to them from my account?” He looks into your eyes, sweat dripping down his head watching your reaction to his question really his dick.

You’re screwed. Both literally and physically.

“Not alwa- o-ooh shit.” You moan, his hips moving faster than light. Nanami absolutely hates when you use your own money, hell, even when you were working. When you guys first started dating he already knew you were going to be his wife. Nanami would always say you didn’t need to work but you didn’t want him to be the sole provider. Eventually, you guys moved in together and you were still working. Though, he convinced you to work less hours and took you out on a date when you agreed. It wasn’t until you got pregnant with your first baby, did his wish come true. Shit, he was more excited when you both went down to your job to quit than he was to see the 2 pink lines.

“All the hours I work, being kept away from our family, my perfect wife -ngghh- my perfect wife’s pussy. And you still insist on usi-fuck- using your own money when you have access to my money- no our money, shit your money.” He moans grabbing your other hand and pulling it above your head with your other.

“Y-you pay for e-ever-“

“I’m supposed to baby. I want to.” He interrupts you, lifting your legs to his shoulders, and grabbing your phone with his free hand and sending your son $100 from his account. “Why must you make things complicated, love. I am the man, it’s my job to take care of you, our family. Let *thrust* me. Use my money for the kids, the house, the cars, whatever it is, I have enough, more than.” He kisses your lips softly, opposite to his thrusts. “Use your money I give you for you, whatever you want for you- shit for you. Everything I do is for you, everything I make, it’s yours, ours on paper, but it’s all yours. All for you.” He grunts into your ear, as if he’s teaching a lesson. Technically, he is.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t using my money first again, okay hun?” He hums at you, a moaning teary mess.

“Now where were we?” He smiles before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass up and spanking it. “Oh, right.” He chuckles as he spreads your cheeks apart, seeing your drooling sensitive pussy, clenching on air.

*edited but not proofread*

More:

Pussywhipped!Choso | part 2

Married!Eren x Maid!Reader

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Nerd!Armin x reader x boyfriend!eren

Best friend!jean x reader

Boss!Hiromi

[cumironi]

ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

[rawjutsu]

jjk men with an easily overstimulated reader <3

gojo satoru 

oh, he lives for it. you whimper once, and his pupils dilate like he just hit the jackpot. you twitch, squirm, try to close your legs—and he just laughs.

“aww, what’s wrong, babe? thought you said you could handle me.”

he pretends to slow down, to "be nice," but five seconds later his fingers are back, curved just right, tongue lapping at your clit like he’s starving, your thighs clamped around his head—and he's thriving.

and when you're overstimulated to the point of tears? he coos at you like it's the sweetest thing in the world.

“c’mon, one more. you can give me one more, right? be a good girl for me.”

literally feeds on the way your voice breaks mid-moan. will overstim you on purpose just to watch your hips jerk and your body betray you.

fushiguro toji 

toji. you poor thing. the overstimulation with him is so nasty in the best way because he is ruthless. doesn’t matter if you’re shaking, babbling, trying to crawl away—he’ll just pull you right back by the waist with one arm like:

“what’s the matter, baby? you were beggin’ for it five minutes ago.”

he gets this low growl in his throat when you clench around him from overstimulation, like you’re just too much. he's obsessed with your limit and loves finding ways to push past it. that smug smirk only grows when your eyes roll back and your legs are trembling too hard to keep you upright.

“you’re twitchin’ like a fuckin’ mess. that mean you’re close again? thought you were done cryin’.”

his favorite thing is when you go limp in his arms after like the fifth orgasm and he has to hold you up just to keep going. 

nanami kento 

oh, nanami is such a soft dom at first, like—he tries to take it slow. he’s respectful. he asks you what feels good, kisses your neck, lets you ride the high of your first orgasm and praises you so gently...

but then he sees how sensitive you are and it awakens something feral in him. that neat composure starts to crack.

“you’re shaking already, sweetheart? just from my fingers?”

the glasses are off. his tie is undone. he’s got your legs over his shoulders and he’s watching you fall apart, murmuring praise through gritted teeth.

“you can take another. you’re doing so well. so sensitive for me.”

if you’re crying or begging, his tone turns into that firm voice:

“no, don’t shy away now. i want to see all of you.”

bonus: he’ll eat you out through the overstimulation while holding your thighs apart with a death grip.

geto suguru

suguru is the sweet sadist. he’ll talk you through it like he’s teaching a class. you say you’re sensitive? oh baby, you just unlocked his favorite game.

“already? you’re overstimulated already? hm… maybe i need to train that sweet body of yours.”

he's calm, in the most terrifying way. he holds you down gently but firmly, with that honey-smooth voice whispering how pretty you look trembling under him. he's always testing you.

“does this feel too good? or is it just enough to break you?”

overstimulation via toys + his fingers = his favorite combo. he loves seeing your body betray you, even when you’re sobbing and shaking, and his lips are at your ear murmuring,

“there it is. that’s it. just let go, baby. cum again for me.”

will overstim you until you pass out with a smile on his face.

ryomen sukuna 

overstimulating you isn’t even about your pleasure to him at first. it’s about dominance. it's about owning every twitch, every hiccupped gasp, every soaked inch of your overstimmed, ruined body.

he loves when you beg for a break because that’s when he knows he’s winning.

“begging? you think i care if you’re tired, little thing? you’ll take what i give you.”

imagine four hands keeping you pinned. two gripping your wrists above your head. the other two… one on your throat, one between your legs, rubbing your clit even while his cock is still buried inside you, relentless.

you’re squirming, crying, mind blank from cumming too many times and he just laughs.

“look at you. can’t even speak. just a drooling mess and i’ve barely started.”

he feeds on overstimulation. you arch away from him? he pulls you closer. your legs try to close? he forces them open.

“your body’s so honest, pet. you say ‘stop’ but your cunt’s begging for more.”

he’s the type to dare you to pass out— and when you do? he’ll wake you back up with another orgasm.

[swordymacaroni]

geto who smokes like its his biggest hobby, but you despise it. every time he kisses you, the bitter taste of tobacco leaves you wrinkling your nose and pulling away all too soon. you never say anything about it, but geto can sense your displeasure every time he reaches for a cigarette.

one day, he reaches into his back pocket for a routine smoke, knowing your eyes are trailing his every move. you expect him to shake out a cigarette, but instead he drops the pack to the ground and steps on it, eyes never leaving yours. you open your mouth to say something, but his lips cut off your voice.

he kisses you hard, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth pulling at your lips. his mouth moves against yours in such desperation  that you can’t help but gasp. he pulls you against his chest, so close that you don’t know where you end and he begins. he pulls back, violet gaze slipping over your hazed expression.

“i-your cigarettes?”

he runs a thumb over your cheek before he leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice makes you shiver when he says,

“i can only handle one addiction at a time.”

[anglbunny]

SIT ON IT

♡. multi, smut mdni, face sitting

You're straddling his stomach, thighs shaking from how much teasing he’s been doing. You’re already soaked — just from his words alone. He keeps glancing up at you, lips parted, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Please, baby,” he groans, voice husky, “just sit on my face.”

Your face burns. “I… I can’t. I—what if I hurt you?”

He laughs — like you're the crazy one — and grabs your hips tighter, guiding you up his chest toward his mouth.

“Then let me fucking suffocate.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, biting gently, looking up at you like you’re the only god he believes in.

“I want your thighs around my head. I want that cute pussy smothering me until you forget your own name.”

You hesitate.

He groans. “Baby. Please.” His voice cracks, breath hot against your skin. “I need to taste you. Let me, please.”

You finally give in, trembling as you lower yourself over his mouth. And the second his tongue touches you—

He moans like he’s starved. Hands locking around your thighs, pulling you down so you can't escape. He eats like he’s trying to live off you. You try to pull away—too sensitive—but he holds you tighter.

“Uh-uh. Don’t run now, doll,” he pants between licks. “You’re staying right here until I’ve had my fill.”

You come so hard you nearly black out — and he's still whining, still licking, still begging for more.

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau @ravenbc @shezuannn @greekyoghurtwithberries @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/n: i think when im ovulating, i have a thing for men begging

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[tojbnuy]

by popular demand and since i hit 1k! here’s a part 2 💞 find part one here! art by @ _3aem on twt!!

bestfriend!satoru who always takes you on late night drives if you’re feeling upset. he’ll buy you something sweet and when he drops you back home he’ll always leave you with a little kiss. he doesn’t want his favourite girl being sad.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely adores the way you smell. everytime he’s near you in class he places his hands out for some of your hand cream and he sits there sniffing his hands afterwards.

bestfriend!satoru who will always suggest a horror movie when it’s movie night with your friends. he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re freaking out and you’ll climb into his lap. ‘sshhh you’re okay baby i’ve got you’ and while you’re distracted his hands will find their way under your top and start stroking your back and tummy.

bestfriend!satoru who insists on massaging your back when you come round. ‘take your top off baby it’s just me’. he’s working on getting you to take off the bra too, all in good time.

bestfriend!satoru who is so used to you wearing long sleeved and baggy hoodies that the random times you wear something that clings to your figure he all but passes out. suddenly his hands are all over you and to everyone else in the room you probably look like a couple. (just how he intended)

bestfriend!satoru who insists kissing your best friend on the lips is normal. it’s cute. ‘come on baby another one. i’m your best friend’. is using tongue normal? he doesn’t care.

bestfriend!satoru who wears compression shirts around you all the time because he overheard you talking about how much you like guys with big biceps. he doesn’t want to sound big headed but he’s caught you staring a few times now.

bestfriend!satoru who goes through your underwear drawer when you’re not present. he wanted to know your cup size but the pink and the lace got him distracted.

bestfriend!satoru who really is such a perv when it comes to you. he can’t help it you’re like a drug. sometimes he knocks his pen off the table because he knows your sweet self will quicky bend over to retrieve it for him. he’s left with the adorable sight of your panty clad ass, white ones today just how he likes. ‘thank you baby.’ ‘you’re welcome toru.’ god you’re just so cute.

bestfriend!satoru who helps you dye your hair. he doesn’t care that he’s leaving with splotches of black on his arms and hands. it’s worth it when you give him those big hugs with your arms wrapped around his neck.

bestfriend!satoru who is in love with your handwriting. ‘course a pretty girl has pretty handwriting’ it’s all cursive and slanted, he even makes jokes about you writing something for him to get tatted.

bestfriend!satoru who knows you love to cuddle. he was never much of a cuddler himself but he would have to be sick to pass up on the chance to hold you. ‘no of course i dont mind pretty.’ your head lays on his chest and one of your thighs covers his stomach. he could die like this and he would die happy. (preferably he would die in between your thighs but)

bestfriend!satoru who gets upset when you’re laughing a bit too loud when talking to suguru. he knew for a fact suguru was not that fucking funny.

bestfriend!satoru who absolutely abuses pet names when it comes to you. His baby His pretty girl His dolly

bestfriend!satoru who’s always patting your bum. for what reason who knows.

part 3 !! part 4 !!

taglist : @haruhatake @moncher-ire @startwithrecords @ranatherealestsigma @chjinua @whozeurdaddy @sukuxna0 @purp1eha1o

[hornybu]

Your back was arched like a cat, your chest pressed against the door, your pretty and expensive dress was pulled up and your panties discarded.

His big hand was covering your mouth, preventing you from moaning while he pounds his cock inside of your pussy, his other hand grabbing your waist with such force that it made you let out a pained whine against his hand.

Your cunt was drooling and a puddle slowly grew on the floor.

Both of you were in the bathroom because he couldn't wait till get home after your pathetic teasing in front of his friends at the restaurant. It wasn't even necessary to prepare you for his massive cock, you were already soaking the chair while just staring at him, your hand rubbing the growing bulge in his pants, teasing him. You put some excuses before standing up, walking towards the restroom, his heavy footsteps following behind.

Until here you are, being fucked by your "best friend", trying not to moan loud while he pushes his throbbing cock deep inside of you, kissing your cervix multiple times until you're a trembling mess in his arms.

You came messily around his girth, trying to push him away when he keeps fucking you and you start feeling overstimulated. He comes inside of you, bumping his hot and thick sperm in your pussy, filling your guts up.

He slowly slides out, stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out a pretty and shiny plug. Then, he slowly pushes it into your swollen and fucked cunny, not wasting a single drop of his semen inside of you.

Minutes later, you're both back with your friends, your legs were trembling and you tried to fix your messy makeup and hair.

You both kept chatting like nothing happened, with your pussy stuffed with his cum.

I'll just let you know that you'll have the best punishment when you both get home.

And, of course, the next day you couldn't even stand up.

[tojisteddy]

You like being up under him.

You’re like the cutest little puppy or a cute, needy little kitten in his eyes. Always hungry for attention, even if you don’t say it or you don’t show it in your actions. It’s in those pretty eyes he could get lost in for ages. It’s in the way he calls for you and you always come, leaning into his touch. Curling into his side or cuddling into his arms. It’s in the you burns off his affection but still pout when he pulls away. The goosebumps you get when he caresses your lower back, letting his hands trail to your hips.

“You in love with me or somethin baby?”

You know the answer.

So does he.

Especially with that smile or smirk on his lips. Laughs as you get all embarrassed. You try to shove him off but he pulls you closer by your waist.

The man can’t help but kiss your cheeks he knows are heating up even without being to see it on your skin, hold you by the back of your neck so he can give your a loving kiss on your perfect lips.

You’re his amazing fucking girl.

Even when he smokes.

And it’s almost chronic, has to have atleast one a day. And you look at him with bored eyes, but watch him none the less, as his lips take in tabbaco and blow it out ever so perfectly. You can’t help but get used to the smell, let it hit you when hold onto him like it’s the last time. The smell of tobacco, pinewood or cinnamon engulf you, falling in love with him a little more.

To the point he sends you in the store to get his favorite pack of cigarettes along with whatever snack you wanted and his favorite is ingrained in your memory. Or when he knows it’s too much, doesn’t like his pretty baby coughing up a storm, he gives your ass a little smack, shoo’s you away.

“No baby, not right now, gimmie me a second.”

He quickly finishes it, or takes one last drag, following you wherever you are because he loves being in your space. He tries his best to be careful with you, you’re a precious thing to him more than anyone on this planet, more than his fucked job, more than his own life, more than his lungs— you are the air he breathes.

Exactly what he lives for.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ toji, shiu, suguru, joel, ghost, john, smoke, stack, gaz.

a/n: I don’t encourage smoking irl (if it’s not weed) by any means. But boy do I get nostalgic with happy memories from smelling it, and lord knows I adore a character who smokes🤭🤤🤤 inspo, because I’m a slut for expanding past ideas.

[classyrbf]

your boyfriend gojo showing you off to his best friend, suguru, for fun. You’re sat there in between your boyfriend legs completely naked while both of of them are fully clothed. Suguru sits in front of you, hungry eyes raking over every inch of your body. He can see your pussy glistening from where he’s sitting, imagining how you taste and feel, how you sound.

“Isn’t she so pretty, Suguru?” Gojo hums, gripping your face and smushing your cheeks. He smiles from ear to ear, his long fingers traveling over your torso and down towards your cunt, resting just above it.

“She is, very, very pretty.” He smirks, the bulge in his pants growing noticeably bigger.

“What do you say, baby?” Gojo whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

“T-thank you,” you meekly say, feeling completely embarrassed and exposed in this state, more embarrassed at the fact you’re enjoying it, your pussy throbbing.

“And what about these tits, huh?” He bites down on his bottom lip, his large hands cupping your breasts, groping and squeezing at the flesh, pulling at your perky nipples.

“Mmph!” You squeeze your eyes shut, thighs clenching together when he tweaks your sensitive nipples between his fingers.

“You like that, baby? Oh, I know you do,” he coos in your ear, teasing you. “Think you can be nice let Suguru try?” You give a small nod, blinking your eyes open when the raven haired man leans forward and reaches his hands out to grope your tits.

His eyes are fixated on them, like he’s stuck in trance. The image of your tits spilling between his fingers with each squeeze, cute nipples begging to be sucked on. You were such a cute little thing. Gojo was one lucky man. His thumbs flick over your nipples, eyes darting up to look at the expression on your face. You were trying so hard to hold in your whimpers, but the way your hips were squirming gave you away.

Gojo sits there, watching over your shoulder with such a devious smile on his face. His hands caress up and down your skin, sending chills up your spine and tingles to your pussy.

“You’ve got pretty tits, sweetheart.” He stares at you with half lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Nngh, thank you,” you whimper, avoiding his gaze.

He leans back in his chair, adjusting in his seat, pulling at the fabric of his jeans. It was clear he was uncomfortable and with the raging hard on he had, but without Gojo’s permission, he couldn’t jerk off to you. Not yet.

“How’d that feel, baby?” Gojo peppered kisses down your neck, knowing it was making it hard for you to respond.

“G-good, it felt good,” you let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly.

“There’s just one more thing I’m gonna show off, yeah?” His hands ran over your thighs, hooking under your knees and pulling your legs back to let suguru get a good view of your cunt. “How’s it look, Suguru?” He looks towards his best friend who’s already intoxicated by the sight of it, nearly drooling.

“Fucking heavenly. She’s dripping,” he says breathlessly, leaning forward on his own accord.

“I bet she is. My baby likes it when I show her off, but knows she’s still all mine.” He kisses the top of your head as you lean back into him.

“Fuck, I wanna taste her. Just one lick, please?” He looks up at Gojo, completely desperate. Even your scent is making his cock leak.

“It’s up to her.” He smiles, glancing down at you. “Gonna let Suguru taste that sweet cunt?”

Your cunt throbs at the thought, body hot and bothered, heart pounding in your chest. “Yes…yes.” You nod, hands fisting the bedsheets below as you brace for the slightest sensation of his tongue. You watch him dip between your thighs, sticking his tongue out as he takes a licks up your leaking juices all the way to your throbbing clit. Your hips jolt at the feeling, a small whine escaping your throat.

Suguru pulls away, savoring your taste on his tongue. “Fuck me,” he whisper under his breath. “God, you taste even better than I imagined, sweetheart.” As much as he wants to dive back in and eat you out till you cry, he respects Gojo’s wishes and leans back in his seat.

“She’s a doll, isn’t she?” Gojo reaches a hand between your thighs, slapping your needy pussy a few times. He chuckles at your moans, going slightly harder with each slap. The sound of your wet cunt was like music to his ears. “You did such a good job, baby.”

“Satoru, you’re one lucky man,” Suguru scoffs, biting the inside of his cheek.

[riveredmoon]

cheater gojo watching your friend, geto, fuck you. based on this song.

warnings: mdni - smut: piv, doggy, voyeursism(?)

“how did you cheat on a pussy this sweet?”

suguru’s voice rolls from behind you, smooth and teasing. your hands are grabbing at the sheets, knees spread, thighs shaking.

your soaked cunt clenches around his cock, milking him with every ruthless thrust. his hips slam into you — obscene sounds fill the room; your plush ass slamming back on him, your moans, and satoru’s restraint slipping away. suguru pounds into you fast and relentless, like he’s more pissed about the cheating than you ever were.

“be sure you watch this ‘toru,” suguru mutters with a chuckle as he yanks your hair, bringing your back to his chest. “watch how well she takes my cock.”

“fuck,” you softly groan. you fuck yourself back on his cock, chasing him with every pullout. its desperate, needy, messy.

one of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other pinching your nipples until you whimper. your hands clawing on his forearm, trying to ground yourself.

you arch your back, allowing his cock to reach deeper. the mushroom tip of his cock hitting exactly where you need it too.

your eyes meet satoru’s — flushed pink, lips bitten raw, frosty hair plastered on his forehead, cerulean eyes pinched into slits. his hands are twitching on his lap, like they don’t know whether they should stroke his cock or crawl over to you.

if suguru wasn’t stuffing you full, you might have giggled at the view. instead, you send a smug smile as you moan. satoru’s eyes narrow even more and drop down to where suguru’s cock enters your wet pussy.

“he never fucked you right, did he?” suguru whispers loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. one of his fingers roughly pulling at your nipple, you bite your lip to hold back your moan.

suguru pulls your hair back just a tiny bit more, your arch deepening — angling you just right. he ruts into you deeper, you slick trailing along his cock.

you shake your head, eyes still on satoru. your orgasm coils right in your gut, sharp and fast. thighs trembling, cunt fluttering around his cock — begging him to stay.

satoru’s hands are practically shaking, balled up in fists right on his thick thighs.

“n-no.” you send a wink his way and watch him swallow the lump in his throat down.

your pussy is a mess, wet and noisy meeting every thrusts that suguru sends your way. his cock hitting that spongey spot deep inside, over and over.

you could barely breathe, can’t really think — just incoherent babbles slipping from your lips. your eyes stuck on satoru as you watch him bite his knuckles. his other hand finally grabbing at his cock through his pants.

suguru’s thrusts start to slow down and you watch as satoru’s breathing slows. relief washing over him, thinking that this is the end.

“tell him that,” he sneers. you gasp when he slams back into you with one rough thrust. thick and mean. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, pounding into you faster, angrier.

“y-you never fucked me r-right,” you practically whimper, your head lolling to the side — trusting suguru to hold it upright.

“good girl,” his hold on your hair loosens and you fall forward. your chest hitting the bed below.

suguru’s thrusts doesn’t let up. you ass bouncing with every thrust — skin slapping skin echoing in the room.

“let me touch you,” satoru whispers into the room. his voice is flat and whiney.

you send a grin his way when you look up and notice he’s fished his cock out his pants. his face distorted in anger, his knuckles flushed white as slowly strokes his cock. his thumb running over his tip, spreading his pre cum.

“nah,” suguru barks out a laugh. “fuck into your hand satoru, because you’re not getting this pussy again.”

thank you @satorus-princess & @sugurusladyknightt for reading my first little draft :)

[nanaslutt]

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

riding geto on the couch and he’s sitting back with his arms wrapped around your waist, burying his head against your chest as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. he’s groaning against your chest, making you clench around him from the stimulation of his vibrations.

it’s almost too much, and you don’t wanna finish yet so you wrap his hair around your fist and yank him back to get him off you and he curses. geto grabs your waist and starts slamming you down on his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in pure bliss as you keep his hair in his hair.

“pull it again,” he groans, the words breathy. so you do, and when you yank his long hair his head falls back against the couch, exposing his beautiful pale throat as he brainlessly moans and his hips stutter as he fucks up into you.

“yesss, fuuuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back into his head, almost fucking crossing from how good it feels. you lean into his neck and suck on his throat, squeezing around him as tight as you can as his cock head slams into your sweet spot. geto turns his head away from you, exposing his throat to you more and you yank his hair again, helping him turn his throat away.

geto laughs through a groan at the sharp pain, holding his breath when you suck on his throat. pulling away, you press a kiss to his throat and moan, “good boy, suguru.”

suguru nods and releases a long groan, “i am huh?” he asks, his voice breathy and hips stuttering. you nod, “yeah, such a good boy baby, taking getting your hair pulled so good.” he smiles and bites his lip, holding his breath every few seconds as his orgasm gets closer

“feels really good.” he responds, his thighs starting to shake under him. “yeah? feels good?” you yank his head again with your words. “baby-“ his smile falls and his mouth opens in a wide o, his brows creasing before you feel him soot inside you. he’s helpless as you continue to ride him through his high, his abs clenching and body jerking as he fills you up while you squeeze your fist against his scalp, giving him the pain he needs to unload his balls

[cumironi]

MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WHORE

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma, choso

summary. what’s the point of having an expensive vanity your older boyfriend (sugar daddy) bought for you? to see you making yourself pretty for him? nahhhh... to make you watch yourself getting rāwdog from him? 100% fat yessss!

trigger/warnings. non-sorcerer au, rich men w/ mean streaks, mirror $ex, bent over expensive furniture (vanity), hardcore daddy-kink, rough $ex, dumbification kink, pu$$y drunk behavior (they’re obsessed), soft brat taming, submissive reader, praise kink, degradation (verbal, consensual), power imbalance (older man / younger woman), age gap dynamics, possession/ownership themes, unprotected vaginal $ex, internal ejaculation, creampie kink, mirror voyeurism, emotional overstimulation, affectionate aftercare, swearing / explicit language, oral fixation (biting, drooling), overstimulation, folded positions, forced eye contact via mirror, breeding kink references (implied), lingerie obsession, class/power fantasy dynamic, furniture fucking, controlling behavior framed as devotion.

GOJO SATORU

the vanity he bought you was from some ridiculous french brand neither of you could pronounce right, all lacquered ivory and gold trim, real marble top and mirror framed in brass. it sat too big for your little apartment, arrogant and gleaming like it knew what it cost, what it was for. “spoiled brat needed a place to sit her fat ass and pout,” gojo had said when it arrived, all smiles, shirt undone, tie dangling, while you squealed and climbed his lap in nothing but socks.

now you were bent over it, ass red and jiggling under his palm, his cock buried so deep inside you your reflection looked vacant, drooling, empty. you couldn’t stop staring. you tried to drop your gaze, but he caught your chin with his fingers and tilted it up, forcing you to look yourself in the eye while your insides spasmed around him with every thrust.

“what’s wrong, bunny?” his voice dripped syrupy sweet. “too hard? too deep? or is it that this mirror’s showing you what i see every fuckin’ night? dumb, needy baby who begs for it and then cries when she gets it.”

you whined. not even a real word—just some helpless sound stuck in your throat, the air punched from your lungs every time his hips slammed against your ass, every time the base of his cock dragged hard through your soaked, swollen folds. the whole vanity shook with it, perfume bottles rattling, your makeup scattered from earlier when you’d been trying to look cute for him, fresh gloss and curled lashes. he’d smudged it all off.

“look at that tongue,” he sneered, eyes gleaming cruel through the mirror. “can’t even keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. s’just hangin’ out like a bitch in heat. you droolin’ for me or you too dumb to remember how to swallow, sweetheart?”

“d-daddy—” it slipped out hoarse and helpless, and his whole body stilled for a beat, cock twitching inside you.

“oh, baby,” he said, and it came out thick, rough, almost fond, before his grip bruised tighter on your hips and he pulled out only to slam back in full force, making your stomach knock into the vanity edge, your cry turning into a breathless wail.

“there she is. my dumb little bunny,��� he purred. “can’t speak. can’t think. just bend over and take it like i taught you. like the pretty little thing you are.” he gave your ass a stinging slap, then kneaded it like it was his. “fucked you so stupid you forgot how mirrors work. they’re for watchin’. c’mon—eyes up. wanna see you fall apart.”

you sobbed, eyes flicking to your reflection. you were wrecked. cheeks streaked with tears and drool, mouth swollen, lipstick long gone. your tits bounced with every thrust, pushed up against the vanity edge. your cunt was visibly puffy, stretched wide around him, glistening in the soft warm light he insisted on putting over the mirror because “his baby needed the perfect glow.”

“see that?” he leaned down, chest flush against your back now, voice whispering right at your ear, filthy and slow. “see how your pussy’s suckin’ me in? i don’t even gotta try. she loves me. she’s fuckin’ obsessed. just like you.” his lips brushed your temple, mock-sweet, and then he bit down, making you yelp and jolt under him.

“that’s right. you love this. love gettin’ fucked like some little thing i bought along with the vanity. all pretty and dumb and made to sit still and take cock.”

“ah—h-hhngh—”

“can’t even make words anymore,” he cooed, and grabbed your throat, pulled your head back till your mouth hung open uselessly. “just noises. my perfect, brainless little toy.”

you nodded, or tried to. your knees were barely holding. slick coated your thighs, dripped onto the parquet floor, smeared against the pristine edge of the vanity he bought, the expensive one you weren’t allowed to touch unless he said so. now you were bent over it like you belonged there, like you were part of the furniture.

he pulled out just to slap the head of his cock against your folds, watching how you flinched and whined at the loss, how your hole clenched on nothing.

“that’s pathetic,” he said softly. “can’t even take a second without it. look how empty you are. how desperate.”

“please—” you sobbed. “wan’ it—please, daddy, please—”

“fuck,” he muttered, and the sound of it was nearly reverent before he pushed back in, slow and deep and mean, making sure you felt every inch, grinding into you so deep your breath hitched into a broken cry.

“that’s it. good girl. my perfect little cumdump. you want daddy to fill you up, huh? fuck this dumb cunt full so you leak all night?”

“yes—yes, yes please—wan’ it, need it—”

he chuckled, and the sound was cruel and soft at once. “you’ll get it. of course you will. you think i bought this vanity for makeup? nah. this is where i ruin you. again and again. every time you act up, every time you get clingy—right here. fuck you stupid till you forget your name and remember who you belong to.”

your legs gave. he caught you, held you bent, weightless against the slab of marble, one hand bruising your hip and the other tangled in your hair, jerking your head back to make sure you never looked away from the mirror.

“that’s it,” he grunted. “take it. like a good fuckin’ girl.”

and you did, you took it, took every snap of his hips, every mean word, every breathless praise he slipped in when he thought you couldn’t hear. his pace turned brutal, unforgiving, slamming into you again and again until the only sound in the room was your wrecked moans and the filthy slap of skin on skin. your nails scraped down the mirror but you didn’t fall. not with him holding you. not with him still talking, still owning you—

“you’re mine. mine, baby. every inch of this dumb little body. you get that? you understand who fuckin’ owns you?”

you nodded hard, blubbering through the sobs and drool. “y-you, you do—daddy—”

“good girl,” he hissed, and came deep inside you with a growl, jerking forward and grinding as his cum spilled hot and thick into your twitching cunt. he didn’t pull out. just stayed there, pressed to the hilt, panting against your spine, hands still gripping you like he couldn’t let go.

“fuck. love you so much, baby,” he murmured, soft again, and kissed the back of your neck like he hadn’t just destroyed you. “gonna clean you up, ‘kay? then we’ll do it again. want you nice and full for bed.”

GETO SUGURU

your legs were already trembling before he bent you over the vanity, before his fingers pushed down between your shoulder blades and forced your back into a perfect arch—like you were presenting, like you knew what he’d spent on this thing and were eager to show gratitude with every inch of your body. he didn’t say a word at first. he just stared. ran one hand down your spine slow, possessive, and hummed like you were some sculpture he was debating whether to ruin or worship.

“you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” geto muttered, finally, voice thick with that contemptuous affection that made your stomach flutter and your cunt clench. “this what you wanted? new mirror, new vanity, so you can watch yourself get used like the dumb baby you are?”

you nodded, flushed and already whining, grinding back against his cock through your panties because you knew better than to beg outright—he liked you messy but obedient, whimpering but pliant. still, he didn’t move. just kept his hand heavy between your shoulders, making you hold the pose, making you see yourself in the mirror: spread, panting, wide-eyed, lips parted and glossy from how you'd been sucking on them trying not to cry.

“so spoiled,” he sneered. “you think i spend ten grand on this bullshit furniture so you can play princess? nah. i bought it so i can bend you over it and fuck the brat outta you. so i can remind you what you are.”

his hand slipped between your legs then, two fingers pushing aside your panties to find your pussy dripping, hot and sticky and already clenching around nothing. he clicked his tongue.

“pathetic,” he muttered, and shoved the soaked fabric aside completely. “you’re soaked and i haven’t even touched you right. what is it, baby? you that needy?”

you nodded again, gasping when he slapped your cunt, just hard enough to make the ache spike and your knees buckle. his palm caught your hip, steadying you.

“so needy you’ll cream on my fingers just from talkin’ mean?” he slid two thick fingers in without warning and you moaned, high and wrecked, face pressing against the cool marble top of the vanity. your hips twitched, tried to chase the thrusts, tried to roll back onto him like your body had a mind of its own.

he grinned, leaned down until his lips brushed your ear, his voice a dark, amused rasp. “you hear that? that squelch?” he pumped them in deep again, slow and rough. “that’s what you are, princess. wet little hole. dumb and greedy and easy.”

“nnnhh—g-geto—”

“try again.”

“d-daddy—”

“there she is,” he chuckled, kissing your temple like you were sweet and innocent while his fingers curled and dragged through your soaking cunt. “my dumb little doll. you ready now?”

“please,” you sobbed, face hot and eyes glassy.

he pulled his fingers out, dragged them up between your cheeks to smear your own slick along your ass, then grabbed your hips with both hands and lined up his cock, fat and heavy, and pushed in slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you.

you cried out, body jolting with the stretch, but he just held you there, cock halfway in and grinding slow so the pressure didn’t ease for a second. “c’mon, baby. you wanted this. don’t act shy now.”

he shoved the rest of the way in with one deep thrust and you screamed, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the vanity’s edge, knuckles going white.

“look at that,” he said, staring at your reflection. “look at my good little cumrag. taking every inch like she was made for it.” he started moving then, slow but punishing, each thrust rocking you against the marble, your tits bouncing, your mouth open and drooling against the cool surface.

“you’re gorgeous like this,” he growled. “all fucked out. all mine.” he slapped your ass, made the meat jiggle, and grinned when you yelped. “this vanity’s not even paid off and you’ve already made it yours. every time i see it now, i’m gonna remember this sloppy little hole creaming all over my cock.”

you whimpered. you were sobbing. the sound of your cunt clenching and sucking around him filled the room along with the sharp smack of his hips and your choked moans.

“fuckin’ drooling,” he muttered. “look at you. mouth open. tongue out. brainless. you get this cock in you and there’s nothin’ left up there, is there?” he reached under, found your clit, and started rubbing hard, fast, mean.

“nnhhnn—daddy—i—it’s—”

“say it. you’re gonna come? gonna cream all over daddy’s cock like a good little fucktoy?”

you nodded so fast your hair whipped into your face, and he groaned, hand tightening on your hip. “then fuckin’ come,” he growled, and slammed into you harder, deeper, rougher.

you broke.

your legs gave, your pussy clenched tight and wet and milking him, your whole body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. you sobbed, loud and broken, a string of daddy’s and yes’s and thank you’s pouring from your mouth like prayer.

and he didn’t stop. didn’t slow. just kept fucking you through it, watching your face in the mirror with open pride.

“that’s it,” he muttered, voice dark and hoarse. “that’s my girl. my stupid, beautiful, perfect fuckdoll. gonna fill you up. pump this pussy full and watch it leak down your thighs.”

you whined, still twitching, still clenching like your body refused to let go of him.

he fucked you three more strokes and came with a grunt, cock buried deep, hot and thick inside you. you felt it fill you, felt it spill as he pulled out, as he watched it leak and drip down your thighs with a satisfied hum.

he kissed your shoulder, soft and lingering. “that’s what the vanity’s for,” he murmured, gentle now. “now sit pretty for daddy. let me see that mess.”

NANAMI KENTO

the vanity was quiet luxury, old-world curves and champagne lacquer with dark bronze handles, the kind of understated wealth nanami preferred—custom-built, heavy as sin, carved legs and solid marble top. he’d ordered it for you because you'd spent weeks sitting on the floor doing your makeup like some poor little thing, and that had annoyed him more than he’d admitted. now it was exactly where he wanted it: under you, behind you, holding you steady while he dragged his cock deeper inside you with every ruthless stroke, not once letting you look away from your own reflection.

“you look ridiculous,” he said, low and steady, like it was a fact. “drooling on the marble. face all pink. eyes gone glassy.”

your cheek stuck to the cool stone surface, mouth open, tongue just visible. your lashes fluttered, tears threatening to slip out. you moaned—high and thin and broken—and he didn’t ease up. didn’t pause. nanami never rushed, never got sloppy, even when you were sobbing underneath him. his hand pressed between your shoulder blades, guiding you down, forcing your back to arch deeper, the angle leaving you open and trembling.

“no,” he said when your eyes flicked down. “up. you look at what you are when i fuck you like this. every time you act bratty, every time you whine, i want you to remember what you look like bent over the furniture i bought, crying for cock.”

you hiccuped, sobbing as he fucked into you again, slow and so deep you felt it drag against every soft, oversensitive inch. “d-daddy—”

he grunted, fingers bruising into your hips. “again.”

“daddy,” you gasped, shuddering. “please—too—”

“it’s not too anything. this is what you begged for, isn’t it? got all dolled up, sprayed perfume on your thighs, posted some idiotic pouty selfie, and then waited for me to come home and handle you.”

he thrust in deep, sharp, made you squeal. “you’re lucky i have patience. lucky i love you enough to keep you.” his voice dipped then, rougher now, more breath than word. “you act like a needy little whore, and still, i take care of you.”

you nodded frantically. couldn’t even speak, couldn’t form a thought around the way his cock filled you, thick and perfect, dragging slick out of you with every stroke. the room smelled like sex and perfume and something richer, deeper. your thighs were shaking, sweat running down the backs of your knees, your fingers slipping against the vanity edge, trying to find purchase. he didn’t help you balance. didn’t let you fall, either. just kept you right there, back arched, ass high, cunt stretched and wet and fluttering around every inch he gave you.

“you think anyone else would do this?” he muttered, voice a rasp against the nape of your neck. “spoil you, break you in, fuck you dumb just to keep you calm?”

you whimpered, unable to speak.

“you know better. say it.”

“y-you, only you—”

he groaned low, satisfied, and let his hand slide up from your back to your throat, fingers pressing there, not choking—never choking—but reminding. reminding you who kept you, who taught your body to respond like this, who owned every cry, every drip of slick. he didn’t even need to squeeze; your breath hitched the moment he touched you.

“this vanity,” he said, thrusting in slow and cruel. “is not for makeup. not for pouting. it’s where you learn what you’re for. what you belong to.”

his other hand slipped between your legs, found your clit swollen and soaked. he rubbed it in steady, mean circles, the kind that made you tremble and squeal and jerk against him. “you’re leaking,” he muttered. “your cunt’s drooling. look at the mess you’re making.”

you cried out, shaking all over.

“you wanted this,” he said, faster now, breath ragged. “you dress up, you beg, you cling like a brat all day, and now you get to see what it means.”

you couldn’t answer, not with the orgasm cresting through your legs, crashing up your spine like lightning, white-hot and humiliating, your body going stiff then limp all at once. your mouth opened on a silent scream and your walls clenched down around his cock, slick gushing down your thighs. he didn’t stop.

“that’s right,” he gritted out. “make a mess. ruin the marble. i’ll replace it. i’ll fuck you over a new one tomorrow.”

he slammed into you, hard, once, twice, then again, groaning when he spilled deep inside, cock twitching, body curling over yours. the moment dragged—hot, pulsing, soaked in breath and sweat and the thick stretch of him staying inside while your cunt tried to milk every drop.

then, softer, as his hand slid to cup your cheek: “there’s my girl. beautiful. messy. mine.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

the mirror was a wide pane of clean glass rimmed in sleek matte black, fixed above the vanity you couldn’t even pretend you’d paid for—dark-stained oak, thick marble slab, drawers deeper than necessary, every detail something toji had picked out with a sharp look and a hand around your waist while you trailed behind him all doe-eyed and breathless in some overpriced showroom.

now it groaned faintly beneath you with every slam of his hips.

“goddamn,” he muttered, voice low and amused behind you, one big palm spread across your lower back, pinning you down flat while the other squeezed your ass hard enough to leave imprints. “all that whining, all that fuckin’ baby talk, and now you’re silent?”

you weren’t silent. not really. you were gasping, sobbing, drooling, lips parted against the marble while your reflection stared back at you—wrecked, flushed, hair clinging to sweat-slick skin. your tits squished against the stone, one leg twitching helplessly as his cock pounded deep into your cunt, obscene and wet and endless.

“what happened, huh?” he huffed a dry laugh, voice going darker as he leaned forward, weight settling heavy over your back, cock pushing deeper with the change in angle until your fingers scrambled for purchase against the slab. “thought you wanted it. you were fuckin’ beggin’—daddy, please—”

“ahhh—!”

“yeah, that.” he ground in, cock thick and hot, dragging against your insides so slow and so mean it made you twitch. “that noise. like you’re surprised. like your pussy didn’t soak through your fuckin’ panties the second i looked at you.”

you sobbed, words catching behind your teeth. you’d been teasing him earlier, fresh lipstick and the tiniest skirt you could find, sitting on his lap like you weren’t going to make it a problem. he’d let you play—watched with that usual smirk, calloused hands gripping your thighs while he told you to go wait at the vanity like a good girl.

and now you were bent over it, shaking, empty-brained, moaning for him like it was your job.

“y’know what’s sad?” he grunted, giving your ass another slap, loud and hard enough to echo. “this thing—” he tapped the marble with his knuckles. “cost more than your car. and you’re gettin’ it dirty. all that slick drippin’ down your thighs, leaking on it like you forgot what furniture is for.”

you cried, hiccupped, tried to squirm, but his hand landed hard between your shoulders again.

“nah. stay.” his voice was a growl, low and lazy. “you wanted the mirror, right? wanted to see yourself get ruined. take a fuckin’ look.”

you didn’t want to—but you did. your head turned on instinct, eyes dragging up to the reflection, where your cheeks were red and wet and your thighs were spread wide, toji’s cock slamming into your messy, twitching cunt from behind.

you whimpered again.

“that’s it,” he muttered, lips brushing your ear now. “watch. watch daddy use you like you’re nothin’ but a hole. that’s all you are when you’re like this, yeah?”

you nodded, and he chuckled low, the sound all smug satisfaction.

“knew you’d agree. you love this shit. love getting folded over pretty things and fucked dumb. you’d let me fuck you on the kitchen counter, the couch, hell—on the fuckin’ hood of my car if i told you to.”

“y-yes,” you sobbed, eyes blurring again.

“mmhm,” he grunted, picking up speed now, hips snapping into you with that hard, brutal rhythm that left your knees buckling, your body melting under him. “look at that. this pretty little cunt clenching around me like she owns me. like she doesn’t know i’m just lettin’ her have it.”

he wasn’t. you both knew it. you were only ever like this for him—so wet it dripped down your legs, so cockdrunk your eyes glazed over, so empty your thoughts curled up and disappeared the second he laid his hand on your back.

“say it,” he ordered. “say what you are.”

“d-dumb,” you gasped. “dumb baby—daddy’s baby—need it—need your cock—”

“fuck yeah you do,” he growled, and slammed in harder, groaning as your walls fluttered around him. “so fuckin’ needy all the time. gotta ruin you every night or you get bitchy. can’t even function without it.”

you nodded again, tongue sliding out, breath catching on a broken cry. the sounds between your thighs were filthy, every thrust pushing slick out around the base of his cock, the marble catching the worst of it.

“gonna come,” he rasped, voice all grit and heat, hand sliding from your back to your throat, just enough pressure to hold your head up, force your eyes to stay on the mirror. “gonna fill this fuckin’ pussy. make it drip. you want that, baby? want me to breed this cunt?”

you couldn’t even speak. you wailed.

he took that as a yes.

“good girl,” he grunted, and came deep, hips jerking against your ass, cock pulsing hot inside your cunt as he spilled into you, groaning low and deep through clenched teeth.

you collapsed against the vanity, still twitching.

he stayed buried in you for a minute, breathing hard, hand soft now on your hip.

then, voice softer—low, warm, filthy and fond: “mirror’s not goin’ anywhere, baby. next time i wanna see you touchin’ yourself in it. moanin’ for me.”

he kissed your shoulder like you were the only thing that mattered. like he hadn’t just fucked you raw over five grand of designer furniture.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

the vanity was blood-red lacquer with gold inlay, too decadent for the room it sat in, carved with sharp angles and claw-foot legs, decadent and obscene just like the man who’d ordered it delivered without asking—without giving you a choice. “looked like you,” sukuna had said with that lazy, cruel smirk, one hand fisted in your hair while the other scrolled through his phone. “shiny. dramatic. too much.”

and now you were bent over it, wrists pinned at the small of your back in one massive hand, thighs spread, cheek mashed to the polished surface that was fogged from your panting. your reflection stared back at you, ruined and wide-eyed, spit slick on your chin, tears catching in your lashes, breasts flattened against the cold marble, while sukuna rammed his cock into your cunt with vicious, steady precision.

“there we fuckin’ go,” he drawled, voice thick and amused, the other hand resting heavy on your spine to keep you down, holding you where he wanted you. “now this is what it’s for. not your fuckin’ makeup. not your jewelry. this whole thing? it’s a fuckin’ altar for my cock.”

you sobbed, high and ragged, trying to move, to meet his thrusts or escape them, you didn’t even know—but he held you still, ground in deep with every snap of his hips until your moans turned into broken, wet little cries.

“too much?” he mocked, voice dropping darker, crueler. “you were beggin’ for it. climbed into my lap all pretty, rubbed your thighs together like you couldn’t breathe without me.” he dragged his cock out slow, teasing, just the tip still stretching your hole, making you mewl from the emptiness. “you looked so fucking pathetic, baby. what, thought i’d be gentle just ‘cause you’re cute?”

“d-daddy—!”

he laughed, loud and mean, slammed back in hard enough to shove your whole body up the vanity, the impact shaking the mirror.

“don’t ‘daddy’ me when you’re drippin’ like this,” he growled, cock buried to the hilt, not moving. “you’re clenching so tight it’s like your pussy’s scared i’ll leave.” he leaned down then, mouth right at your ear, hot breath spilling over your skin. “like you don’t love gettin’ ruined.”

you whimpered, tears spilling over.

“aw, poor baby. crying already?” he kissed your jaw, then nipped your earlobe hard enough to make you jerk. “you wanted the whole thing. wanted daddy’s cock till your brain melted. wanted to see yourself cry. so here—” he forced your chin up with two fingers until your eyes met your reflection. “look at what you are.”

you stared. you couldn’t look away. your mouth was open, face blotchy, your body trembling as he started to fuck into you again, deeper now, slower and crueler, like he wanted you to feel every thick inch slide through your swollen cunt.

“this what you get for bein’ needy,” he murmured, watching your face in the mirror while he kept pounding into you. “get fucked stupid and sob on the vanity like a little toy. you even know what you’re sayin’ anymore?”

you didn’t. you couldn’t. the words were gone. you were drooling, sniffling, eyes half-rolled, your thighs twitching as he hit that spot inside you that made the whole world go white.

“nnhhn—fuck—d-daddy, please—”

“please what?” he snapped, hips snapping forward. “you want it harder? want me to break this pretty little cunt open so you can brag to your fuckin’ mirror tomorrow?”

you squealed, legs trembling, slick pouring down to your knees. he chuckled again, low and delighted, and gripped your throat from behind, tilting your head back.

“say it,” he said, breathless and filthy. “say what you are.”

“d-dumb—dumb baby—daddy’s—”

“fuck yes you are.” he fucked you harder then, every thrust brutal, relentless, dragging another helpless moan from your throat. “stupid, wet little thing. made to take cock. made to cry and come and beg.” his free hand slid around to your clit, rough fingers rubbing tight, fast circles that made your legs give out entirely. he held you up with brute strength alone, slammed into you with a growl, cock thick and hot, filling every part of you like it was his.

and it was.

“gonna come in this cunt,” he rasped, panting against your ear. “gonna stuff you so full it leaks for hours. want you waddling to the bathroom with my cum dripping out. want you smelling like me. lookin’ like this.”

you moaned, high and thin and lost.

“yeah. yeah, there it is. come for me,” he ordered, and your body obeyed. you shattered around him, cunt spasming and milking, moans choking into sobs as he fucked you through it, kept pounding until you went limp.

he came with a sharp grunt, cock twitching deep inside you, hips jerking as he emptied himself in hot, deep pulses. you could feel it, dripping already.

he stayed pressed against you, breathing rough, one hand rubbing circles into your back now, like he hadn’t just reduced you to nothing.

“that’s my baby,” he said, and kissed your shoulder like a brand. “mirror’s gonna remember this more than you do.”

SHIU KONG

the light hit you hard in the mirror, that golden kind of glow he liked to leave on even when it was past midnight, when you were already trembling and pliant and flushed all over, bent over the matte black vanity with your mouth open, tongue wet against your lip. it was sleek, heavy, modern—the kind of piece shiu never explained the price tag on, just had delivered. “aesthetic purposes,” he’d muttered with a shrug, but you knew the real reason the second he pushed your knees apart in front of it the first time.

and now you were back there again, legs shaking, elbows slipping against the polished surface, and him behind you—shirt rolled up to his elbows, tie discarded, belt still looped through his slacks and jingling softly every time his hips snapped forward into your soaked cunt.

“you look like a fuckin’ mess,” he said flat, calm, cruel. “and you love it.”

you whined, soft and high-pitched, and the sound made his hand snap up to grip your hair, yanking your head back until your reflection snapped into view again—glassy eyes, face smeared with tears and spit, lips parted around some gasping broken plea you hadn’t meant to make.

“there she is,” he sneered. “daddy’s baby. already drooling. already dumb. and we’re not even halfway done.”

you moaned, your knees dipping, and he slapped your ass, firm and quick and perfectly placed to make your back arch again, your pussy fluttering around the thick stretch of him. you could feel how deep he was, every stroke rubbing through the sore, swollen heat he’d been teasing for an hour before this—fingers, tongue, everything slow and cruel while he made you cry about how badly you wanted it. he’d made you lay out your makeup before that, made you get ready like it was a photoshoot.

“you think i bought this for you to look at yourself?” he grunted, grabbing your hips and slamming in again, sharp, brutal. “this is my mirror. my view. my dumb little girl getting wrecked on furniture she didn’t pay for.”

“nnh—f-fuck—shiu—”

“wrong,” he barked. “say it right.”

“d-daddy—!”

his groan was rough, aroused, fingers digging in harder, rhythm picking up until your thighs were quivering, the wet slap of your cunt against his hips loud and constant.

“you don’t even know what to do without me, do you?” he spat, fucking into you mean, relentless. “spend all day texting me about how bored you are, sittin’ around like a spoiled brat, waitin’ for me to come home and use you.”

you sobbed out something like yes, eyes rolling in the mirror.

“yeah, that’s what i thought. dumb bunny. too fuckin’ soft to handle real life, but this?” he slammed deep. “this you can do. get stuffed full and cry on my cock. it’s the only thing you’re good at.”

your cunt squeezed around him and he laughed, breathless. “fuckin’ knew it. you love when i talk to you like this. love when i make you watch yourself fall apart.”

your hands scrabbled on the vanity, nails slipping over glass and lacquer, your forehead pressed to the mirror now as your moans got higher, pitchier, slurred through drool and sobs. your legs were shaking, knees trying to collapse, and he didn’t let you—not once. just grabbed you tighter, moved rougher, until you were babbling, until the only word you could get out was daddy and even that sounded wrecked.

“tell me what you are,” he snapped, breath against your ear. “say it.”

“your—your little baby—so dumb—just need cock—need yours—”

he grunted, deep and primal, and slammed in harder. “fuck. knew you were a mess but this? this is another level. i oughta record this shit. frame it right next to the mirror.”

you squealed, and your orgasm hit you like a train, pussy spasming around him, gush soaking his thighs, your body jerking and curling over the vanity in a wave of heat and overstimulated sobbing.

he didn’t stop. he never stopped when you came. just used it, fucked you harder through it, held your hips still while you twitched and wailed, the marble cold under your tits, your reflection glazed and mindless in front of you.

“gonna fill you up,” he growled, nearly there. “make you feel it all night. let it drip down those thighs you’re always showin’ off like a fuckin’ tease.”

you nodded, shaking, wrecked.

he groaned, deep and low, and came hard, cock buried to the hilt, warmth flooding you and spilling down immediately, his hand rubbing your ass while he caught his breath.

then, like it wasn’t filthy, like it wasn’t obscene, his voice went soft: “you did good, baby. perfect even when you’re dumb.” he kissed your shoulder, slow. “next time you sit here to do your makeup, i want you to remember this. remember how you look when you’re mine.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he always started with your hair—fingers threading slow through the strands at first, tender, careful, like the gentleman you clung to so pathetically. but tonight, it had turned into a fist, tight at your scalp, dragging your head back so your breath hitched against the marble-top vanity he'd bought you months ago. “for your mornings,” he’d said, voice smooth and polished, a rare smile touching his lips as he watched you gasp at the gift. you hadn’t known then he meant every morning.

“open your eyes,” higuruma muttered now, voice rougher, darker, tight with restraint as his hips pressed flush against your ass, cock buried so deep in your cunt it throbbed. “i said—open.”

you did. barely. they fluttered at first, hazy with tears and arousal, then lifted heavy to stare at your reflection—your cheek smushed to the cool marble, makeup smeared from the first time he’d made you cry tonight, mouth parted, drool slipping from your lips in a wet string down the gleaming surface. your thighs trembled where he held you spread wide, and your eyes, god, your eyes looked so empty.

he smiled at that. not cruel—just pleased. content, in that terrifyingly calm way only higuruma could pull off. “look at you,” he murmured, dragging out slow. you moaned, eyes rolling up for a moment before snapping back when he tugged your hair harder. “messy already. how long’s it been? three minutes?”

“p-please—”

he grunted, cutting off your breath with another sharp thrust, hips meeting your ass with a clap that echoed off the bathroom tile. “i don’t think you understand the position you’re in, sweetheart.” he leaned down then, breath warm against your ear, hand sliding from your hair to your neck, holding—not choking, just enough to pin, to own. “this vanity? my money. that necklace you’ve got on? my taste. the cock in you? mine. so if you’re gonna beg, you better sound a hell of a lot more grateful.”

you sobbed, and it only made him hum, pleased.

“you love being like this, don’t you? fucked stupid on marble, mouth open, brain turned off.”

you nodded frantically.

“of course you do.” he kissed the back of your shoulder then, slow and affectionate, almost sweet—and shoved in deep again, making your legs twitch. “because this is the only time you shut up. when i’ve got your cunt stretched around me and your face dripping on furniture that cost more than your tuition.”

your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, slipping over gloss compacts and brush handles and one of the little velvet boxes he'd filled with jewelry. he knocked one aside when it got in his way, sent gold spilling over the marble, and didn’t even look down.

he only watched you in the mirror. watched your thighs shake. watched your body fold perfectly beneath him, his cock pumping into you slow and punishing while your cunt clenched and fluttered helplessly around the stretch.

“i ought to make you watch a playback,” he murmured. “this pathetic little face you make every time i call you dumb. how your mouth falls open like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.”

“nnhh—”

“shh. you’ll speak when you’ve earned it.” his hand slid lower then, thumb brushing between your folds, slick and pulsing. “not when you’re crying like a brat.”

you came hard. no warning—just a sudden high-pitched sob, a tremble so sharp your whole body jerked forward against the marble as you clenched around him, spasming, leaking. your orgasm splashed down your thighs in hot, messy pulses, and he hissed, low and dangerous.

“goddamn,” he muttered. “listen to that. like a faucet.”

your legs gave. he caught you, steadied you again without so much as a grunt, and didn’t pull out.

“you done?” he asked softly. his voice, unlike everything else, stayed calm. polite. full of terrifying patience.

you whimpered. shook your head.

“good girl.”

his thrusts picked up—faster now, meaner. the slap of skin echoed louder than your cries, his grip unforgiving as he fucked you harder against the edge, chasing something deeper than just his own release. your moans were high, breathless, vowels stripped of language. drool spilled freely. your body bounced helplessly between the vanity and the hard muscle behind you, your reflection going hazier with every wet smack of his hips.

“this is how it should be,” he muttered, not to you, but to himself. “you, like this. pliant. silent. wrecked.”

“d-daddy—”

“mm. finally.” he slapped your ass, let the sound linger. “you always remember eventually. sweet little thing.”

he came deep, silent, jaw clenched as he emptied inside you with slow, grinding thrusts, holding your hips tight to feel every spasm of your cunt around him. his cum spilled hot and heavy down your thighs as he pulled out, letting it drip, watching you slump against the vanity in a whimpering heap.

then, quiet again: “clean yourself up. use the mirror. i want you to see exactly what you look like when you’re being good.”

CHOSO KAMO

you couldn’t even remember how he got you bent over like this—one moment you’d been perched on the velvet stool, brushing your lip gloss on slow, thighs squeezed tight in your little sleep shorts, and the next you were splayed across the vanity he’d bought you just last month. a gift “because you’re always sitting on the floor like some stray,” he’d grumbled, red-faced, as he set the delivery down himself with those big, calloused hands that now held your hips like you were something breakable only he was allowed to bruise.

“you’re always actin’ like you need somethin’,” choso muttered behind you, voice gone low and lazy with heat. “touchin’ my arm, whinin’ about attention. then i give it to you, and you forget how to fuckin’ act.”

you were trying to answer, really—but your jaw just worked open on a breathless moan, drool smearing against the cool marble as your cunt clenched hard around the thick stretch of him inside you. he was all heat and weight, cock pulsing as he bottomed out again, the thick curve dragging against every nerve inside you until your thighs shook.

his grip on your waist tightened. “you hear me?”

you nodded, eyes fluttering up to your reflection like you’d been trained—like you knew he’d check. the mirror didn’t lie: your face was already ruined, lips red and swollen, lashes stuck together from tears. you looked like you’d been crying for hours, but it had been barely ten minutes since he’d shoved your shorts down and bent you over the pristine marble.

“look at that,” he said, breath catching in his throat as his hips rolled, thick cock grinding deep into your soaked, fluttering pussy. “already got you dumb. haven’t even done nothin’ yet.”

you whimpered. drooled a little more.

“such a needy baby,” he muttered, sliding his hand up your back, then curling into your hair to yank your head back, slow and careful, just enough to keep your eyes locked on the reflection. “you wait for me all day just to get fucked like this, don’t you?”

“y-yes—” you gasped.

“'course you do. little thing like you can’t help it. always runnin’ around in those stupid little outfits, askin’ for it.” he snapped his hips into you then, sharp and sudden, and your voice broke on a cry. “always starin’ at me with that look. all glassy-eyed and stupid, like you want me to bend you over any surface i pass.”

you nodded frantically. the wet slap of his thrusts echoed through the apartment, each one forcing you tighter against the vanity, tits squished to the marble, breath fogging the glass. the room smelled like sweat and sex and that sugar lotion he always teased you for. his cock filled you to the brim, heavy and so fucking deep, dragging out slow just to shove back in and leave you sobbing.

“you know what this mirror’s for?” he whispered then, breath brushing your cheek. “it’s not for gettin’ ready. it’s so you can see what you look like when i’m inside you.”

your whole body shuddered. your eyes locked on the reflection again, dazed and ruined.

“you wanna see it, baby?” he murmured, voice quieter now, filthier. “watch this pussy take it like it was made for me?”

you whined, your hands scrabbling at the marble edge, nails scraping grooves into the surface.

“good girl,” he said, like you’d answered. “fuckin’ perfect. you always are when you’re like this.”

he reached down, fingers brushing over your clit, and you choked on your breath, hips jerking as your cunt spasmed around him.

“tight fuckin’ grip,” he hissed. “like she doesn’t wanna let go. like she knows she’s mine.”

you couldn’t stop it—you came hard, all at once, cunt fluttering around him, your knees giving, body twitching helplessly as a wet gush spilled down your thighs. your reflection went hazy through the tears and fogged breath, mouth hanging open like you couldn’t even remember how to close it.

choso groaned, deep and rough, slamming in once, twice more before he held you flush, cock throbbing as he came inside you, hot and slow and heavy.

“fuck,” he breathed. “look at that. made for me. made to be filled.”

he didn’t pull out—not yet. just stayed there, pressed against you, hands gentle now as he brushed your hair back from your face and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “you did good,” he murmured. “gonna keep this mirror clean, though. want you to see every time i break you.”

[nanamisweetgirl]

🜼 ⋆ you missed your mark during rehearsal, now ballet coach!geto needs to fuck you back in line. — ballerina!reader

“you think that little twirl was good enough to get cast?”

his voice is low and sharp like the snap of a leather strap. the door slams behind you. your sweat-soaked tights are still halfway down your thighs when he grabs you by the back of the neck and shoves you against the lockers.

“arms were sloppy. toes weren’t pointed. and you had the nerve to look smug about it,” he hisses into your ear, crowding you in. you’re panting—still flushed from rehearsal, tights sticking to your skin, leotard twisted up over your ass.

then you feel it, how his cock, already hard, is already dragging through the slick mess between your legs as he lines himself up.

“you wanna act like a clumsy whore on stage?” he growls, fist tangled in your bun, yanking your head back. “then i’ll fuck you like one.”

he doesn’t warn you. doesn’t even give you time to breathe. just drives in, one brutal thrust, cock thick and unforgiving, splitting your soaked, clenching pussy open with a wet slap of skin on skin.

you cry out raw, breath hitching, back arching as he bottoms out deep and mean.

his hand slams across your mouth instantly.

“no. shut up. you don’t get to scream,” he snarls. “if anyone hears you, you’ll be off the team. i’ll tell them how you begged for it.”

he fucks into you without rhythm. just deep, punishing thrusts that grind against your cervix. your legs are shaking, one foot still in your pointe shoe, the other barely holding you upright as your body’s bounced forward into the lockers again and again.

clank. clank. clank.

the metal rattles with every thrust.

“look at you,” he spits, pulling back just to slam in harder—watching your back curve like a ribbon, ass bouncing, cunt stretched wide around his cock. “you think you’re some kind of prodigy? you can’t even hold a line unless i’ve got you bent over and stuffed full.”

his fingers dig into your hips, bruising them, using you like nothing more than a tight, wet toy. your thighs are slick with your own arousal, his cock gliding in and out with filthy, obscene sounds that echo off the tile walls.

you try to brace yourself on the locker door. he shoves it shut with your face and that’s when you realize he’s mad mad.

“don’t touch anything. hands behind your back. like a fucking ballerina you’re trained to be.”

you obey, arms trembling, breath stuttering through your nose as your eyes roll back. he’s so deep, thick cock dragging against every nerve, splitting you open again and again like you’re his personal fuckdoll. because you are.

his hand slips around to your front, two fingers tapping your clit lazily.

“you gonna cum, little dancer?” he says mockingly. “gonna cream all over your coach’s cock like a useless little cumrag?”

you whimper under his palm, body locking up, pussy fluttering as you cum hard around him—squelching, messy, drooling down his shaft. he groans—more annoyed than pleased—and fucks through your orgasm like it’s an inconvenience.

“don’t slow down. if you’re tired, maybe you should’ve practiced harder.”

he fucks you through the comedown, through the overstimulation, through the ache, until your knees buckle and he still doesn’t let up.

when he cums, he presses you flat to the locker, filling you to the brim. warm, thick, and too much. he stays buried to the hilt, fingers bruising your waist.

“next time you fuck up my choreography,” he pants into your ear, still pulsing inside you, “i’ll fuck you in front of the whole goddamn company.”

he pulls out with a wet, humiliating squelch. cum drips down your thighs.

“clean yourself up. practice starts again in ten.”

[white-poppie]

Status upgrade ?! ⎯ ft. jjk men

feat ⎯ satoru, kento, suguru, sukuna 'n toji

synopsis ⎯ you accidentally refer to your boyfriend as 'husband' !

a/n ⎯ I was giggling the entire time writing this, also sukuna is not the king of curses here because I said so.

✶ ࣪˖ GOJO SATORU

You can't seem to be able to catch your breath with him, not enough air fills in your lungs as you stare at him with clenched fists and a taut jaw.

"What part of 'I didn't want you to take on that mission' did you not understand 'Toru?" you say, exasperated, your voice cracking in sheer frustration after having gone back and forth the same topic infinite times, all ending with 'you know I have to, it's not like I want to,' or something like that.

But you are tired, you really are, the kettle whistling cacophonically when the two of you finally found time for an intimate little movie night, interrupted by a call on his phone and then him subsequently teleporting away like it was nothing. Like you were a fool, feeling all giddy for just finally being able to spend time and woosh, he's gone.

"I'm sorry baby, you know I have no choice, there are people who depend on me." His pretty face crumpled in guilt and annoyance all the same. And every time he says this, it's like his way of shutting you off, because how do you even respond to people's lives being dependent on him?

Its too much, it really is too much sometimes. Somehow, all of these discussions end with you feeling like the douche.

"I hate when you do this," you choke, "I can't even have a little time with my husband now." It leaves and you don't even register it, but Satoru does.

He takes in a deep breath, his own throat in brambles while his heart stutters. A little slip off the tongue and it hits him harder than ever.

"Your husband?" he says, trying so desperately to not let his muscles twitch into a wide grin, but he can't help it. And so against the situation, his eyebrows soften down and little smile appears on his face.

There is a tender feeling in his chest that seizes his entire being, somehow, that one word makes all of it feel so tangible. Your concern, endearing then, seems heartfelt now. A sudden strike of accountability that perhaps stems from the little future he imagines within that few-second interval when you call him your 'husband.'

"Whatever," you bristle, annoyed, embarrassed at the slip of the tongue, turning around to walk away from him, before two muscular arms find their way on your waist and you freeze. His weight against your back, nose nuzzling into your shoulder, tufts of white hair tickling against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your shoulder flesh, hot breathing fanning against the skin. His arms tighten around your waist as though holding your back from moving, to keep you planted as you are, in his arms, forever. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll say no, I promise I'll try to reject the missions I can." He whispers out, planting kisses against the expanse of your neck causing you to shiver against his broad frame.

You sigh deeply, hand coming to caress his face. "Okay," you breathe out.

"And as your husband — I should really stick to you like glue, yeah? More so if I wanna make it into reality," His large hand sprawls on your tummy and you can hear that damn smirk on his face.

Your cheeks turn red and you try desperately to backtrack, "It just slipped out of my mouth—"

"Yeah, yeah, as I was saying, do you prefer a pear-cut or a marquise-cut diamond?"

God he is so obnoxious.

✶ ࣪˖ NANAMI KENTO

You're sleepy, so damn sleepy that you could just fall into sleep the instant you find a surface to lay on.

"You look exhausted," Kento comments, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looks at your weary form. You peer to look at him through the mirror on your vanity. He looks like a dream. His reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a classic novella in his hands as he leans against the bedrest.

"Come here, love," he pats the space on the mattress, right beside him and you feet move before you can think, climbing onto the bed, you bury yourself against his side, curling in.

A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls you closer against his side with his free arm, his fingers carding through your hair.

"Tough day?"

"Mmh, it was so tiring," he nods at your reply, taking in a deep breath.

"Yeah? Tell me about it."

"Well for starters, I worked like a dog and then stayed for overtime, my favourite lipgloss finished and when I wanted to treat myself nice; they put too much sugar in my drink." You huff.

"Oh that sounds tiring," he murmurs, "why don't you get some sleep, hm? We can plan a little get-away this weekend." he whispered out, leaning over to keep his book and switch off the lights so they don't burn as sharply against your sleepy eyes.

When he settles back, he's met with a tender quirk of your lips, "You're amazing, Kento," you murmur, letting yourself be shifted carefully against him as he lays down from where he was sitting.

A deep, dulcet chuckle leaves him at that, "Really, what did I do?"

"Nothing, you just are perfect, the perfect husband a girl could ask for," it leaves your sleep-addled mouth before you can even comprehend it, and Kento freezes for just a second, his hand that was brushing your hair pauses in its tracks. On any random day he would have been flattered beyond words, but right now he is flattered and dumbfounded.

"Your husband?" he replies, trying his absolute best not to laugh and wake you up.

You blink, slowly as the realisation sets in and bury yourself against his chest in embarrassment. "Kentoooo" you groan out.

Nanami chuckles and shakes his at your embarrassed antics, utterly endeared, and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Why are you embarrassed, love? Its good you are already getting a habit of it, because it's not that distant of a future."

✶ ࣪˖ SUGURU GETO

The girls started calling you 'mom.' It happened slowly, gradually as you eased your way through the household.

Suguru was still 'Mister-Geto', but you were mom. That was enough for him, that meant everything, to watch the girls find solace in your presence.

A Sunday outing, one of the few rare days Suguru got free time from his cult and the way he spends it is to spend time with Nanako, Mimiko and you. You're seated at the girl's favourite restaurant, the girls on one side and the two of you on the other.

"I'll have a burger," Mimiko chimes "and fries."

"Why are you copying me? I said burger in the car first," Nanako looks at her with a sort of distressed expression.

"No but I thought of it before you said it."

"And I-I thought of it, yesterday."

And apparently they thought of the burger and fries the day before and the day before that, and the day before the day before...

"Girls, calm down," Suguru sighs with a soft chuckle, placing the menu down. "You can both get burger and fries."

"But do you really want to get the same thing everytime, there are other options on the menu too," you suggest, hoping to calm the tension down. "Like Chicken nuggets."

"I'll get Chicken nuggies." Nanako quickly suggests, earning a very obvious side eye from her twin. Suguru sighed, calling for the waiter at that.

"Uhmm, one chicken nuggets meal, a burger with fries and I'll have Aglio Olio and so will my husband." You mutter and the waiter nods, taking your order, and you are met with three curious, wide-eyed people back on your table. Suguru, Nanako, Mimiko; everyone's gaze stuck at you, making you very obviously aware of your blunder.

And for a second you wish you could melt into the seats.

"Are you married to already Mr Geto, mom?" Mimiko speaks out, slightly surprised and you can't help but groan in embarrassment at the innocent curiousity on her face.

"Not yet," Suguru breaks through the awkwardness, answering for you. His soft eyes reaching over to look at you, his fingers intertwining with yours under the table.

And you notice him share a glance with girls, as though a secretive pact you don't quite understand but they do.

"So we still need the rin⎯" Nanako tries to utter, to which Mimiko quickly places her hand on her mouth...yeah its going to be one interesting day.

✶ ࣪˖ SUKUNA

Sukuna has a staring problem and everyone notices it, including your coworkers at your 'stupid work-party' as Sukuna likes to call it. And he draws eyes, everywhere. Its hard to not notiuce him when he's towering everyone, standing in a corner all broody. He's eyeing everyone in the room, staring down at everyone who talks to you. If he were a dog, his damn ears would stiffen if he say anyone walking close to you.

"'Kuna, you are making people scared," you sigh at your boyfriend who's form fills the two piece suit like a damn glove, frankly you want to peel it off him, but that's a conversation for another time.

"Good," he mutter, sipping at the rum in in his glass, his hand slowly caressing the small of your back through your dress, his warmth anchoring you through the flurry of loud interactions.

"Is that woman who keeps bitching about her cheating husband instead of leaving him?" He mutters, languidly pointing of of the fingers of the hand that is holding his glass, a little too loud in your opinion.

"Sukuna!" you hiss to him, a warning, but he just shrugs and smirks, taking yet another sip.

"What, I'm just confirming all you 'tea' is about the right person."

You sigh, internally regretting bringing him as your plus one. your eyes land to your manager walking upto you and you immediately straighten up, putting on the corporate smile.

He walks up, raising an eyebrow towards Sukuna, before he looks expectantly at you for the introductions.

"Sukuna, this my manager, Mr Lim and Mr Lim, this is my husband, Sukuna." You introduce, and notice a bit too late Sukuna's grip around your waist tightens and you look upto with a nervous expression, realising how awkward it would be if he corrects you.

Instead, Sukuna smiles, extending his hand for a handshake "A pleasure."

Soon your manager leaves upon being called and youi feel Sukuna's warm breath on your ear, "Didn't know you were going around introducing me as your husband to people." He whispers.

"I-"

"No need, I like it, wife."

✶ ࣪˖ TOJI

Its three in the damn morning when Toji wakes upto the sound of vegetable chopping.He can't help but groan at the absence of your warmth on your side of the bed, reaching over to sling an arm, but he's met with the cold sheets instead of your sleeping form.

He decides against falling asleep again like an asshole and instead begrudgingly pads to the kitchen, barefoot, scratching his head. "Babe its four in the morning, why are chopping vegetables at this time?" he sighs with a yawn, his voice all sleep-addled and deep. Toji walks upto behind you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around your form.

"I was hungry, 'Ji," you murmur. "And craving ramen." You add before he could protest with, 'why didn't you just eat cup noodles?'

"You and your damn cravings," he snorts, watching you stir the mix before he peels himself off you and gets cup noodles.

You look up at him wuth a raised eyebrow, questioningly, wasn't he criticising your random cavings just a minute ago?

"What? Seeing you eat is making me hungry too," he grumbles, boiling water beside you.

"This is nice," you comment with a fond smile, stirring at the makeshift recipe of instant noodles and veggies.

"What is?"

"Just this, cooking together...well not really cooking, but sort of spending time together like this with my husband⎯" You say without paying much attention and do a double take, slowly you turm your head towards Toji to see his reaction and to your surprise he smiles, a soft smile on his face as he watches the water boil.

"Yeah, I like it," he replies, his tone betraying a hint of fondness. "Maybe even as a forever sort of a thing."

Masterlist ⎯ 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

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