sonarspace

[sonarspace]

i love your tumblr layout it looks so good!!!

i think this was abt my old layout but thank yew anon <3333

[sonarspace]

LUNAAA how have you been lovey!!

HIII BABYYY I’ve been good but busyyyyyyyy and exhausted but mostly good! what abt you?? i missed you sm

[sonarspace]

⭒ content. 18+, chef!sukuna x fem!reader, food play, temperature play, knife play, cunnilıngus, unprotected sēx, creampıe, face licking, overstımulation, messy counter sēx

the restaurant was closed for the season. no customers. no noise. just warmth from the ovens and the low hum of the cooler. the kitchen was his. and so were you.

your dress was shoved up around your waist, your back flat against the prep counter, skin prickling from the contrast of warm air and cold marble. sukuna stood between your thighs, apron still tied, knife in hand, pink hair messy like he hadn’t even stopped working.

he dragged the flat of the blade along your thigh, grinning. “don’t move.”

you didn’t.

then the edge slipped under your panties, and with one clean slice, he cut straight through. “you won’t be needing these.”

the ruined lace hit the floor. his eyes dropped between your legs, watching your slick glisten in the low kitchen light.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low, thick. “already soaked and I haven’t even touched you.”

his fingers dipped into the bowl of chocolate, warm and glossy. he smeared it on your inner thigh, slow and messy, watching you squirm.

“keep those legs open, sweetheart,” he said, licking a stripe up your skin. “gonna make you taste better than anything i’ve ever plated.”

your breath hitched. his tongue dragged through the chocolate again, then lower, close enough that your cunt fluttered in anticipation.

then came the ice.

he rubbed the cube along your inner thigh, then up higher, right over your folds. the cold hit hard, made your hips jerk, and he just laughed under his breath. the ice melted fast, dripping down to mix with your slick, leaving you soaked and squirming.

then he was licking you again. his mouth was hot, tongue thick and slow as it dragged over your slit. when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you gasped out loud. when he spat and spread it with his thumb, you clenched around nothing.

he slid two fingers in like he was already tired of waiting. they pushed in deep, knuckles brushing your soaked heat as he curled them slow and steady. your pussy clenched hard. wet sounds filled the room, slick and obscene, as he fucked you with his hand and kept his mouth on you the whole time.

your orgasm came sharp and fast. your legs shook. your hands gripped the counter. he moaned against your cunt like it fed him, kept fucking you with his fingers, kept licking until you were too sensitive to think.

he pulled back, face shiny, breath heavy. he sucked his fingers clean and smirked.

“still hungry.”

his voice was low, almost playful, but you knew better. sukuna wasn’t done. not even close.

he reached for the tray beside you. the strawberries were still there, soaked in deep red wine, the skin of the fruit soft and glossy. he picked one up by the stem, juice already dripping from where it had split slightly, and held it up to your lips.

“open,” he said.

you did.

he didn’t feed it to you. not really. he pressed it against your mouth, then leaned in and bit into it from the other side. the fruit crushed between your lips, spilling wine down your chin, splattering onto his. the juice ran sticky down your throat, staining your skin, his tongue chasing it before it could drip further.

he licked up the side of your face, slow and deliberate, then kissed you full on the mouth, wine and sugar and spit mixing between your tongues. his grip was rough when he grabbed your thighs, lifted them over his arms, and stepped in close.

your ass barely stayed on the edge of the counter. he didn’t even bother undoing his apron. just unzipped, shoved his pants down enough to free his cock, and lined it up against your soaked cunt.

you felt the head press through your folds, slick already dripping down to coat him.

“look at this mess,” he muttered, staring down at your pussy as he dragged his tip through it. “gonna fuck it in just like this.”

then he pushed in.

you cried out, head falling back, the stretch making your thighs shake instantly. your legs were over his arms, bent high, and opened wide. his cock filled you to the base and he just held it there for a second.

“tight,” he breathed. “so fuckin’ tight for me.”

he started to move. deep thrusts. each one knocked your body back an inch, your breath catching with every snap of his hips. his grip on your thighs tightened. he looked down at where he disappeared inside you, wet sounds filling the room.

“you hear that?” he said. “that’s your pussy talkin’ to me.”

his thrusts picked up. harder. rougher. the counter squeaked underneath you, your back sliding slightly with every push. his eyes were locked on yours now, jaw clenched, breathing heavy.

you moaned, hands scrambling for something to hold on to, your cunt clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper.

“fuck—yeah,” he groaned, fucking you harder now. “she’s choking me.”

you couldn’t even respond. not with the way he was fucking into you. every time he pulled back, he dragged over that perfect spot, and when he pushed in again, you felt it in your stomach.

your second orgasm was already building. too fast. too much. your legs shook against his arms.

“gonna cum again?” he asked, breath right against your cheek. “yeah you are. be a good girl and soak my fuckin’ cock.”

you did. you came hard, thighs shaking, cunt spasming, squeezing around him so tight he cursed under his breath and slammed into you once, twice, then buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin.

his cum filled you fast and oh...so warm. you felt it spill out around his cock, drip back down to the counter, mix with everything else he’d already left on you.

he stayed there, still inside, breathing hard, your legs still hooked over his arms.

his forehead pressed to yours.

“I'm tempted keep you like this all night,” he murmured, a slow smile gracing his lips.

[sonarspace]

⭒ content. 18+, chef!sukuna x fem!reader, food play, temperature play, knife play, cunnilıngus, unprotected sēx, creampıe, face licking, overstımulation, messy counter sēx

the restaurant was closed for the season. no customers. no noise. just warmth from the ovens and the low hum of the cooler. the kitchen was his. and so were you.

your dress was shoved up around your waist, your back flat against the prep counter, skin prickling from the contrast of warm air and cold marble. sukuna stood between your thighs, apron still tied, knife in hand, pink hair messy like he hadn’t even stopped working.

he dragged the flat of the blade along your thigh, grinning. “don’t move.”

you didn’t.

then the edge slipped under your panties, and with one clean slice, he cut straight through. “you won’t be needing these.”

the ruined lace hit the floor. his eyes dropped between your legs, watching your slick glisten in the low kitchen light.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low, thick. “already soaked and I haven’t even touched you.”

his fingers dipped into the bowl of chocolate, warm and glossy. he smeared it on your inner thigh, slow and messy, watching you squirm.

“keep those legs open, sweetheart,” he said, licking a stripe up your skin. “gonna make you taste better than anything i’ve ever plated.”

your breath hitched. his tongue dragged through the chocolate again, then lower, close enough that your cunt fluttered in anticipation.

then came the ice.

he rubbed the cube along your inner thigh, then up higher, right over your folds. the cold hit hard, made your hips jerk, and he just laughed under his breath. the ice melted fast, dripping down to mix with your slick, leaving you soaked and squirming.

then he was licking you again. his mouth was hot, tongue thick and slow as it dragged over your slit. when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you gasped out loud. when he spat and spread it with his thumb, you clenched around nothing.

he slid two fingers in like he was already tired of waiting. they pushed in deep, knuckles brushing your soaked heat as he curled them slow and steady. your pussy clenched hard. wet sounds filled the room, slick and obscene, as he fucked you with his hand and kept his mouth on you the whole time.

your orgasm came sharp and fast. your legs shook. your hands gripped the counter. he moaned against your cunt like it fed him, kept fucking you with his fingers, kept licking until you were too sensitive to think.

he pulled back, face shiny, breath heavy. he sucked his fingers clean and smirked.

“still hungry.”

his voice was low, almost playful, but you knew better. sukuna wasn’t done. not even close.

he reached for the tray beside you. the strawberries were still there, soaked in deep red wine, the skin of the fruit soft and glossy. he picked one up by the stem, juice already dripping from where it had split slightly, and held it up to your lips.

“open,” he said.

you did.

he didn’t feed it to you. not really. he pressed it against your mouth, then leaned in and bit into it from the other side. the fruit crushed between your lips, spilling wine down your chin, splattering onto his. the juice ran sticky down your throat, staining your skin, his tongue chasing it before it could drip further.

he licked up the side of your face, slow and deliberate, then kissed you full on the mouth, wine and sugar and spit mixing between your tongues. his grip was rough when he grabbed your thighs, lifted them over his arms, and stepped in close.

your ass barely stayed on the edge of the counter. he didn’t even bother undoing his apron. just unzipped, shoved his pants down enough to free his cock, and lined it up against your soaked cunt.

you felt the head press through your folds, slick already dripping down to coat him.

“look at this mess,” he muttered, staring down at your pussy as he dragged his tip through it. “gonna fuck it in just like this.”

then he pushed in.

you cried out, head falling back, the stretch making your thighs shake instantly. your legs were over his arms, bent high, and opened wide. his cock filled you to the base and he just held it there for a second.

“tight,” he breathed. “so fuckin’ tight for me.”

he started to move. deep thrusts. each one knocked your body back an inch, your breath catching with every snap of his hips. his grip on your thighs tightened. he looked down at where he disappeared inside you, wet sounds filling the room.

“you hear that?” he said. “that’s your pussy talkin’ to me.”

his thrusts picked up. harder. rougher. the counter squeaked underneath you, your back sliding slightly with every push. his eyes were locked on yours now, jaw clenched, breathing heavy.

you moaned, hands scrambling for something to hold on to, your cunt clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper.

“fuck—yeah,” he groaned, fucking you harder now. “she’s choking me.”

you couldn’t even respond. not with the way he was fucking into you. every time he pulled back, he dragged over that perfect spot, and when he pushed in again, you felt it in your stomach.

your second orgasm was already building. too fast. too much. your legs shook against his arms.

“gonna cum again?” he asked, breath right against your cheek. “yeah you are. be a good girl and soak my fuckin’ cock.”

you did. you came hard, thighs shaking, cunt spasming, squeezing around him so tight he cursed under his breath and slammed into you once, twice, then buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin.

his cum filled you fast and oh...so warm. you felt it spill out around his cock, drip back down to the counter, mix with everything else he’d already left on you.

he stayed there, still inside, breathing hard, your legs still hooked over his arms.

his forehead pressed to yours.

“I'm tempted keep you like this all night,” he murmured, a slow smile gracing his lips.

[sonarspace]

⭒ content. 18+, chef!sukuna x fem!reader, food play, temperature play, knife play, cunnilıngus, unprotected sēx, creampıe, face licking, overstımulation, messy counter sēx

the restaurant was closed for the season. no customers. no noise. just warmth from the ovens and the low hum of the cooler. the kitchen was his. and so were you.

your dress was shoved up around your waist, your back flat against the prep counter, skin prickling from the contrast of warm air and cold marble. sukuna stood between your thighs, apron still tied, knife in hand, pink hair messy like he hadn’t even stopped working.

he dragged the flat of the blade along your thigh, grinning. “don’t move.”

you didn’t.

then the edge slipped under your panties, and with one clean slice, he cut straight through. “you won’t be needing these.”

the ruined lace hit the floor. his eyes dropped between your legs, watching your slick glisten in the low kitchen light.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low, thick. “already soaked and I haven’t even touched you.”

his fingers dipped into the bowl of chocolate, warm and glossy. he smeared it on your inner thigh, slow and messy, watching you squirm.

“keep those legs open, sweetheart,” he said, licking a stripe up your skin. “gonna make you taste better than anything i’ve ever plated.”

your breath hitched. his tongue dragged through the chocolate again, then lower, close enough that your cunt fluttered in anticipation.

then came the ice.

he rubbed the cube along your inner thigh, then up higher, right over your folds. the cold hit hard, made your hips jerk, and he just laughed under his breath. the ice melted fast, dripping down to mix with your slick, leaving you soaked and squirming.

then he was licking you again. his mouth was hot, tongue thick and slow as it dragged over your slit. when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you gasped out loud. when he spat and spread it with his thumb, you clenched around nothing.

he slid two fingers in like he was already tired of waiting. they pushed in deep, knuckles brushing your soaked heat as he curled them slow and steady. your pussy clenched hard. wet sounds filled the room, slick and obscene, as he fucked you with his hand and kept his mouth on you the whole time.

your orgasm came sharp and fast. your legs shook. your hands gripped the counter. he moaned against your cunt like it fed him, kept fucking you with his fingers, kept licking until you were too sensitive to think.

he pulled back, face shiny, breath heavy. he sucked his fingers clean and smirked.

“still hungry.”

his voice was low, almost playful, but you knew better. sukuna wasn’t done. not even close.

he reached for the tray beside you. the strawberries were still there, soaked in deep red wine, the skin of the fruit soft and glossy. he picked one up by the stem, juice already dripping from where it had split slightly, and held it up to your lips.

“open,” he said.

you did.

he didn’t feed it to you. not really. he pressed it against your mouth, then leaned in and bit into it from the other side. the fruit crushed between your lips, spilling wine down your chin, splattering onto his. the juice ran sticky down your throat, staining your skin, his tongue chasing it before it could drip further.

he licked up the side of your face, slow and deliberate, then kissed you full on the mouth, wine and sugar and spit mixing between your tongues. his grip was rough when he grabbed your thighs, lifted them over his arms, and stepped in close.

your ass barely stayed on the edge of the counter. he didn’t even bother undoing his apron. just unzipped, shoved his pants down enough to free his cock, and lined it up against your soaked cunt.

you felt the head press through your folds, slick already dripping down to coat him.

“look at this mess,” he muttered, staring down at your pussy as he dragged his tip through it. “gonna fuck it in just like this.”

then he pushed in.

you cried out, head falling back, the stretch making your thighs shake instantly. your legs were over his arms, bent high, and opened wide. his cock filled you to the base and he just held it there for a second.

“tight,” he breathed. “so fuckin’ tight for me.”

he started to move. deep thrusts. each one knocked your body back an inch, your breath catching with every snap of his hips. his grip on your thighs tightened. he looked down at where he disappeared inside you, wet sounds filling the room.

“you hear that?” he said. “that’s your pussy talkin’ to me.”

his thrusts picked up. harder. rougher. the counter squeaked underneath you, your back sliding slightly with every push. his eyes were locked on yours now, jaw clenched, breathing heavy.

you moaned, hands scrambling for something to hold on to, your cunt clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper.

“fuck—yeah,” he groaned, fucking you harder now. “she’s choking me.”

you couldn’t even respond. not with the way he was fucking into you. every time he pulled back, he dragged over that perfect spot, and when he pushed in again, you felt it in your stomach.

your second orgasm was already building. too fast. too much. your legs shook against his arms.

“gonna cum again?” he asked, breath right against your cheek. “yeah you are. be a good girl and soak my fuckin’ cock.”

you did. you came hard, thighs shaking, cunt spasming, squeezing around him so tight he cursed under his breath and slammed into you once, twice, then buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin.

his cum filled you fast and oh...so warm. you felt it spill out around his cock, drip back down to the counter, mix with everything else he’d already left on you.

he stayed there, still inside, breathing hard, your legs still hooked over his arms.

his forehead pressed to yours.

“I'm tempted keep you like this all night,” he murmured, a slow smile gracing his lips.

[sonarspace]

♰ content. 18+, cult leader!geto x fem!reader, public sēx, exhibitionism, unprotected sēx, creampıe an. haven’t written in a minute so this is kinda rough… hope y’all enjoy! and happy late birthday luna <33

geto lived by one truth: death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong.

his cult moved in quiet obedience. they never questioned him, never looked too closely when he disappeared behind the inner curtain. they sat outside now, kneeling on polished floors, whispering devotions while their leader fucked you against the wall just out of sight.

your robes were pushed up around your waist, your back arched, one cheek pressed to the stone as he drove into you from behind. his hand was firm on your hip, the other braced beside your head, fingers curled against the wall for balance. he filled you completely, thick and hot, dragging his cock slowly through your soaked cunt with every thrust.

you were already a mess. slick coated your thighs, dripping to the floor. your walls clenched around him, fluttering with every deep push. each time he bottomed out, it knocked the breath out of you. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t move. all you could do was take it.

he fucked you like it was the only thing that mattered. not rushed. not gentle. just deep, controlled strokes that made your body burn. the curtain didn’t block the sound. the wet slap of skin, the soft panting, the occasional stutter of breath when he hit that perfect spot inside you. it was all there. anyone could hear if they dared to listen.

you came without warning. your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock, the orgasm hitting fast and hard. your body tensed, legs shaking, mouth open in a silent gasp as you gushed around him, soaking his cock and the stone beneath you. he didn’t stop. he kept fucking you through it, steady and relentless.

when he came, it was deep. his hips pressed flush against yours, cock twitching as he filled you up, hot and thick, cum leaking from your swollen cunt the moment he pulled out.

he fixed your robes slowly, adjusting the layers with careful hands. not rushed. not shameful. like he had every right to ruin you and then put you back together.

outside, the prayers continued, soft and obedient. to them, he was untouchable. divine. their salvation dressed in silk and control.

but you knew the truth. you knew the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the way he fucked like you were the only thing worth worshipping. he lived by one law. death to the fool. punishment to the weak. love to the strong. and this was what that love felt like. brutal. consuming. absolute.

you were not his follower. you were his. the only one he never pretended to rise above.

[sonarspace]

so… it’s been a while…

work’s taking up all my time unfortunately 🥲 and i missed writing and i missed y’all pls come talk to me again 😔

[sonarspace]

♰ content. 18+, cult leader!geto x fem!reader, public sēx, exhibitionism, unprotected sēx, creampıe an. haven’t written in a minute so this is kinda rough… hope y’all enjoy! and happy late birthday luna <33

geto lived by one truth: death to the fool, punishment to the weak, love to the strong.

his cult moved in quiet obedience. they never questioned him, never looked too closely when he disappeared behind the inner curtain. they sat outside now, kneeling on polished floors, whispering devotions while their leader fucked you against the wall just out of sight.

your robes were pushed up around your waist, your back arched, one cheek pressed to the stone as he drove into you from behind. his hand was firm on your hip, the other braced beside your head, fingers curled against the wall for balance. he filled you completely, thick and hot, dragging his cock slowly through your soaked cunt with every thrust.

you were already a mess. slick coated your thighs, dripping to the floor. your walls clenched around him, fluttering with every deep push. each time he bottomed out, it knocked the breath out of you. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t move. all you could do was take it.

he fucked you like it was the only thing that mattered. not rushed. not gentle. just deep, controlled strokes that made your body burn. the curtain didn’t block the sound. the wet slap of skin, the soft panting, the occasional stutter of breath when he hit that perfect spot inside you. it was all there. anyone could hear if they dared to listen.

you came without warning. your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock, the orgasm hitting fast and hard. your body tensed, legs shaking, mouth open in a silent gasp as you gushed around him, soaking his cock and the stone beneath you. he didn’t stop. he kept fucking you through it, steady and relentless.

when he came, it was deep. his hips pressed flush against yours, cock twitching as he filled you up, hot and thick, cum leaking from your swollen cunt the moment he pulled out.

he fixed your robes slowly, adjusting the layers with careful hands. not rushed. not shameful. like he had every right to ruin you and then put you back together.

outside, the prayers continued, soft and obedient. to them, he was untouchable. divine. their salvation dressed in silk and control.

but you knew the truth. you knew the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the way he fucked like you were the only thing worth worshipping. he lived by one law. death to the fool. punishment to the weak. love to the strong. and this was what that love felt like. brutal. consuming. absolute.

you were not his follower. you were his. the only one he never pretended to rise above.

[sonarspace]

back because ramadan is over but not fully back because i still have uni and work 😔😔😔

recently tuned into delico’s nursery and they’re all so 😻😋

[sonarspace]

ramadan kareem to everyone that participates 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 gna disappear and steer clear until april 🫡

[sonarspace]

❝ BABY COME OVER HERE AND RIDE IT OUT ! ❞

꒰ synopsis. love isn’t the only thing they’re giving you tonight.

featuring. nanami. gojo. choso. geto. sukuna. toji. (separate)

warnings. mdni. nsfw. oral (f. receiving). fingering. teasing. kinda rough sex. unprotected sex. kinda overstimulation. size kink. food play (toji's)

an. made this kinda long since i haven't been posting much so i hope you guys enjoy !

❦ KENTO NANAMI

nanami asks you every year, like clockwork. it doesn’t matter that you wear his ring, that you wake up tangled with him every morning, his legs hooked around yours beneath the sheets, or that his touch is already written into your skin like a vow. he still does it. like it’s the first time.

"be my valentine."

his voice is low, rasping, the first thing you hear before you even open your eyes. the morning light spills through the curtains, catching the sharp angles of his face, his blond hair glowing in the soft haze. he’s already dressed, standing beside the bed with one knee pressed into the mattress, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. not something rushed, not a last-minute grab. he chooses them carefully, every year, arranging them with the precision he applies to everything in his life—especially you.

your fingers ghost over the petals before curling around his wrist, tugging him closer. his lips part just slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick between your face and your grip on him.

"always."

the word barely leaves your lips before he’s leaning down, pressing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, then your temple, then your lips—lingering, savoring, like he’s etching the moment into his memory.

dinner is familiar, comfortable in its ritual. candlelight flickers against polished silverware, the low hum of conversation surrounding you, the occasional clink of glass. nanami sits across from you, his presence sharp even in his silence. he’s composed, refined, but his attention is heavy, a weight you feel pressing into your skin.

his hand remains firm on your thigh beneath the table, fingers kneading the fabric of your dress, thumb drawing absentminded circles against your skin. he watches you sip your wine, his golden eyes tracking the movement, darkening as your lips part around the rim of the glass, your tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of red.

"you're quiet," you muse, setting your glass down.

his gaze lifts, sharp and unreadable. "just watching."

the rasp in his voice makes your stomach tighten, heat blooming low in your belly. his fingers flex against your thigh, pressing just a little harder. he doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel the storm gathering behind his composure.

you don’t even make it five steps past the front door before he’s on you.

"you have no idea," he growls against your throat, his breath hot, his body pressing you back against the door. his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and you let out a gasp as your legs wrap around his waist. he holds you up like you weigh nothing, like you belong there.

"how fucking hard it was to sit through dinner."

his lips trail along your jaw, down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin without a care. he doesn’t want you to hide them.

"kento—"

"shh."

his hips roll into you, slow, deliberate, the thick weight of his cock pressing against your core through his slacks. the pressure makes you shiver, your fingers fisting into his shirt.

"you were testing me."

his voice is lower now, a growl buried deep in his chest. his hands tighten where they grip you.

"sat there all night, acting innocent, knowing you weren’t wearing anything under that dress."

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slit, cupping your heat through the thin material. his jaw clenches, breath hitching as he feels the wetness seeping through.

"fuck."

he presses harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

"this all for me?"

you nod, whimpering, nails digging into his broad shoulders. his belt clinks, his slacks fall, and then he’s pressing the flushed head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it through your slick, teasing, torturing.

"gonna take me like a good girl?"

your body trembles, and he smirks.

"course you are."

then he sinks in.

your eyes go wide, your back arching, nails scraping down his back as he stretches you open, inch by inch.

"oh, fuck."

nanami shudders, stilling for a moment, his head falling to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

"so fucking tight."

he pulls back just enough before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt.

your head snaps back, mouth falling open, a breathless sound caught in your throat.

"mine," he growls, his pace deep, steady, brutal. calculated, like he’s making up for lost time, like he needs you to feel him in your bones.

his hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, holding you still, keeping you pinned against the door as he drives into you. you’re gasping, whimpering, clutching at him, and he laughs, dark and low in your ear.

"such a needy little thing."

he grinds into you, so deep you feel him in your stomach, his forehead pressing against yours, golden eyes locked onto you, watching you break apart on his cock.

"gonna cum for me?" his thumb slides down, pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. "gonna make a mess all over me?"

your body tenses, pleasure slamming into you, your orgasm ripping through you like a live wire, leaving you shaking in his arms.

"fuck—fuck, kento—!"

"oh, fuck," he pants, his hips stuttering, losing rhythm, and then he’s spilling inside you, grinding in deep, making you take all of it.

his grip softens, hands moving to smooth over your skin, his mouth pressing slow, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, the corner of your lips.

"every damn year," he whispers again, softer this time, like a promise.

like next year, he’ll ask again.

and next year, you’ll say yes.

❦ SATORU GOJO

when you wake up, there’s a handwritten note on your pillow. messy scrawl, a little smudged, but the message is clear.

'be mine?'

when you step into the kitchen, he’s already there, leaning against the counter, sipping from a coffee cup, watching you with that familiar smirk. his hair is still tousled from sleep, white strands sticking up in every direction, and his robe is hanging loosely off his shoulders, like he didn’t bother to tie it properly.

“so?” he tilts his head, expectant. “what’s your answer?”

you roll your eyes, setting the note down beside your mug. “who else would i say yes to?”

he hums, stepping closer, fingers grazing your waist, warm and easy, like he has all the time in the world. “smart girl.” his lips brush over your temple, soft, but there’s something heavier behind it—the way his hands slide lower, gripping at your hips like he’s already thinking about something else.

“y’know,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “i’ve been craving something sweet all morning.”

you barely have time to react before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

“satoru—”

“shh, lemme have my breakfast first.”

he kneels between your thighs, pushing them apart, sliding your panties down your legs with agonizing patience.he keeps his eyes on you, watching, waiting, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers trace up the inside of your thighs, slow and deliberate.

“fuck,” he breathes, fingertips pressing into your skin as he stares at your slick folds like he’s starving.

he parts you with his thumbs, his tongue flicking out, teasing at your clit before pulling back just to see the way you react. you shudder, hands gripping at the counter, thighs threatening to close, but he stops you with a firm grip.

“nah, sweetheart, lemme see all of you,” he mutters, holding you open, licking another slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt. your head falls back, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as he starts to eat you like he’s savoring something decadent.

he hums against you, like he’s enjoying himself just as much as you are. his tongue circles your clit before sucking it into his mouth, groaning at the way your body reacts. his fingers slide up, spreading you wider as he licks into you, wet and filthy, taking his time.

your fingers tangle into his soft hair, pulling, and he just groans into you, sending vibrations through your core.

he eats like he’s starving, sucking and licking, dragging it out, making sure to taste every inch of you. when he slips his tongue inside, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes, you let out a choked gasp, legs trembling around his shoulders.

his grip tightens, holding you still, keeping you open as he flicks his tongue over your clit again, faster now, relentless.

“satoru, i—”

“mmm, c’mon, baby,” he groans, pressing his face deeper, tongue pressing against your clit, sucking hard. “gimme what i want.”

your body tenses, thighs squeezing around his head as pleasure slams into you all at once, breaking you open. you cry out, grinding against his mouth, and he groans, licking you through it, dragging it out, refusing to stop until you’re trembling against him.

when he finally pulls away, he licks his lips, smirking, eyes blown wide as he stares up at you.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, dragging his thumb through your slick, bringing it to his mouth just for one last taste. “you really are the sweetest treat.”

you whimper at his words, body still shaking, but he’s already standing, already pressing against you again.

his hands slide up your waist, fingers curling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to whisper against your skin.

“think you can handle more?”

his cock presses against your thigh, heavy and hard, and you realize he’s not even close to being done with you.

his lips brush your jaw, as he nudges your legs wider, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

❦ CHOSO KAMO

choso wasn’t sure what possessed him to do this. he’d spent weeks overthinking every detail, from what to cook to what music to play in the background. he wasn’t good at things like this—planning dates, making moves, figuring out if someone actually liked him the way he liked them. but when valentine’s day came around, he swallowed his nerves and asked if you’d come over for dinner.

and now you’re standing in his doorway, smiling at him like he’s not completely losing his mind.

“happy valentine’s,” he says, awkwardly holding out the flowers he bought earlier that day. they’re slightly crumpled from how tightly he’s been gripping them, but the colors are nice, and he hopes you won’t notice.

you take them gently, fingers brushing his as you bring them up to your nose. “you got me flowers?”

“uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “thought you might like them.”

“i love them,” you say, and his heart does something weird in his chest.

he steps aside so you can come in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them from fidgeting. the apartment smells warm, something rich and savory simmering on the stove. it’s cozy, a little cluttered, but in a way that feels lived in.

“you really went all out,” you tease, setting the flowers down on the counter, eyes sweeping over the neatly set table. “candles, music, a home-cooked meal? you trying to impress me, choso?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “maybe.”

dinner is nice, easier than he expected. he listens more than he talks, letting you carry the conversation, letting himself soak in the sound of your voice. you’re so comfortable, so at ease, while he’s been tense all night, too aware of how much he wants this to go well.

at some point, you must notice, because you set your fork down and tilt your head at him. “you’re really nervous, huh?”

he lets out a breath, staring down at his plate. “yeah. i—” he hesitates, then sighs. “you just seem so... calm. like this is nothing for you.”

you blink at him, then shake your head with a small laugh. “choso, i’m just as nervous as you are.”

his head lifts, brows furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe it. “you don’t look it.”

“i hide it better than you do,” you admit, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “but trust me, i’ve been overthinking this just as much as you.”

his fingers twitch beneath yours, his whole body going still as he processes what you just said. then his shoulders drop a little, the tension easing just enough for him to exhale.

somehow, after dinner, you both end up on the couch, sitting close, legs barely brushing. you’re talking about something, but choso’s focus keeps slipping, keeps drifting to the way you’re sitting so comfortably in his space, like you belong there.

and then you’re looking at him, your voice softer now. “can i kiss you?”

his breath catches, fingers tightening where they rest on his lap. “yeah.”

you lean in, and he barely has time to process it before your lips press against his. it’s soft at first, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to pull away if he wants to. but he doesn’t. his hand comes up, fingers slipping into your hair as he kisses you back, tentative but growing bolder the longer he gets lost in the feeling.

somewhere along the way, you move into his lap, straddling him, your weight pressing down against him in a way that makes his head spin. his hands settle on your hips, gripping tightly, like he’s afraid to move too much and break whatever spell this is.

then you roll your hips, slow, teasing, and choso chokes on a gasp, hands flying to your waist to hold you still.

“fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “you—fuck.”

you do it again, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming faster, harder.

“this okay?” you whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

he nods, swallowing hard. “yeah. yeah, just—” he exhales sharply when you grind down again. “god, that feels good.”

his hands slide up, dragging along your sides, gripping at you like he’s still trying to process that this is happening. his hips move on instinct, pushing up to meet yours, the friction making him shudder.

he’s so warm beneath you, so solid, so desperate, making the tiniest, neediest sounds every time you move against him. his head falls back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“you’re shaking,” you murmur, fingers threading through his hair.

he lets out a breathless laugh. “you’re really gonna act like you’re not?”

you smile, kissing him again, deeper this time, slower. his hands slide under your shirt, warm palms pressing against bare skin, not pushing, just holding, just wanting to feel.

his hips stutter beneath you, his grip tightening as he exhales sharply. “gonna—fuck, gonna cum if you keep—”

you press down harder, grinding in slow, lazy circles, and he moans, low and broken, his whole body trembling beneath you. his fingers grip tight, his breath stuttering as he falls apart, hips jerking up against you, voice catching in his throat.

you kiss him through it, soft and slow, dragging your fingers down his back as he shudders beneath you. he’s panting when he finally collapses against the couch, flushed and dazed, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “best valentine’s day ever.”

he groans softly, chest still rising and falling against yours. “yeah.”

then, before you can process it, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the cushions, settling between your legs.

“what are you—”

“returning the favor,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw, down your throat, his hands sliding beneath your thighs.

his breath is warm against your skin, his voice barely more than a whisper. “let me taste you.”

his hands tighten on your waist as he sinks lower, lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, parting your legs, settling between them like he belongs there.

when his lips finally close around your clit, when his tongue presses against you, slow and wet and filthy, he groans like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

and when you moan his name, fingers twisting in his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, he's determined to make this valentine’s day one you’ll never forget.

❦ SUGURU GETO

you don’t expect him to show up at your door.

it’s late, the night air cool against your skin when you open it to find suguru standing there, leaning against the frame like he belongs there, like he’s been here a hundred times before.

his black hair is tied up, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his coat. he looks effortless, like always, like this is just another night for him, like he didn’t just show up on your doorstep without calling first.

"you busy?" he asks, voice smooth, lazy, like he already knows the answer.

"if i was?" you challenge, tilting your head.

he hums, stepping closer, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips. "then i'd say i’ll wait."

you roll your eyes but step back to let him in, because this is suguru, because you’re used to him showing up unannounced, because part of you had been waiting for this, hoping for it, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the back of your couch before stretching, muscles shifting beneath his sweater, his movements so slow, so casual, like he has all the time in the world.

"so?" you prompt, watching as he surveys your apartment like he hasn’t been here a hundred times before.

he turns to you, dark eyes flicking over your face, taking in the way you cross your arms over your chest, trying to act like his presence doesn’t make your stomach tighten.

"figured i should at least stop by," he says. "it is valentine’s day, after all."

you snort. "since when do you care about that?"

"i don’t," he says, stepping closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing in front of you, close enough that you have to tip your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "but you do."

your heart stutters in your chest, your pulse quickening, because this is different. suguru has always been laid back, has always flirted with you in a way that was easy to brush off as friendly. but right now, he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s testing you, like he’s finally giving you the chance to close the distance.

you swallow, feeling your fingers twitch at your sides. “and what exactly are you offering?”

his lips twitch, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. "whatever you'll let me."

there’s a pause, heavy, stretching between you, neither of you moving, neither of you looking away.

and then, finally, you reach for him, your fingers curling into the front of his sweater as you pull him in.

he follows easily, his body pressing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. he lets you set the pace, lets you tug him down, lets you kiss him first.

but the second your lips press against his, he takes over.

his hands slide up your sides, fingers curling around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you against him like he’s been waiting for this. he kisses you slow, deep, lazy in a way that makes your head spin, like he has nowhere else to be, like he has all night to take his time with you.

you sigh against him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the tie keeping it in place.

he groans softly when you pull it free, his hair falling around his shoulders, and you swear you feel him smile against your lips.

"finally," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher.

"shut up," you breathe, pulling him back in, kissing him deeper, harder, pressing your body against his.

he lets you, lets you set the pace for a moment, lets you take what you want. but then his hands slide lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, walking you back until your back hits the couch.

you gasp as he lowers you onto it, pressing himself between your legs, his weight warm, solid, grounding.

his lips trail down your throat, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, his breath warm against your collarbone.

"suguru," you whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

he groans, hands tightening on your hips, his body rolling against yours, slow, teasing, letting you feel him.

you whimper, arching into him, rocking your hips up to meet his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening, his body pressing down against you, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

"been thinking about this for a while," he admits, his voice rough against your skin.

you smile, tilting your head to capture his lips again, rolling your hips against him, feeling the way his breath catches.

"then stop thinking," you murmur.

he groans, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin, his lips dragging over your throat, your jaw, back to your mouth.

he kisses you like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he wants to make up for all the time he wasted pretending he didn’t want this.

his hips move in slow, deliberate rolls, pressing against you, making your breath hitch, making heat coil low in your stomach.

you can feel how hard he is, can feel how much he’s holding back, his fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to keep himself steady.

"suguru," you whisper, dragging your nails down his back.

he exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm, unsteady.

"tell me you want this," he says, his voice low, strained.

you smile against his lips, pressing your hips up against his again, feeling the way he shudders.

"i do."

his resolve snaps.

his hands grip your thighs, his lips crashing into yours, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, grinding against you in slow, deep rolls, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips moving harder, faster, almost desperate now.

you moan, clinging to him, arching up to meet every movement, the friction building, overwhelming.

"sugu—"

"i want this every day," he breathes, his voice breaking, his body tensing as he loses himself in you. "i want you every day."

his hips stutter, his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he moans against your throat, coming undone with you, his body shaking with it.

you hold him through it, dragging your hands up his back, whispering his name, pressing soft kisses against his jaw as he shudders in your arms.

when he finally catches his breath, he leans up just enough to look at you, his eyes hazy and dark, but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

he smiles, breathless, pressing his lips to your forehead. "yeah," he murmurs. "definitely want this every day."

❦ SUKUNA RYOMEN

you don’t expect anything from sukuna.

it’s not that you think he’s forgotten—he doesn’t forget things, least of all when people expect something from him. it’s that he doesn’t care.

valentine’s day is meaningless to him, just some cheap human tradition, an excuse for people to drape themselves in red and pink and beg for attention. and he’s never been the type to do something just because everyone else is doing it.

so you don’t ask, don’t even bring it up. you go about your day as usual, pretending it doesn’t sting just a little that he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

but when you walk into the room, something shifts.

he’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, arm slung over the backrest, posture completely at ease. the flickering light from the television casts sharp shadows along his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw, the high cut of his cheekbones. the pink strands of his hair catch the glow, almost soft if not for the way his deep red eyes flick over to you.

at first, he doesn’t react. doesn’t say anything. just stares, unblinking, scanning you from head to toe.

then, finally, his head tilts, his mouth curling into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t neutral either.

"what the hell are you wearing?"

you blink, brows lifting. "a dress?"

he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you with unreadable intent.

"for me?"

"not everything is about you, sukuna," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

he scoffs, but his gaze never leaves you, dragging over the shape of your legs, the dip of your waist, the way the fabric clings to you in all the right places.

"you sure about that?" his voice dips lower, not quite rough, but there’s something deliberate in the way he speaks, a certain weight behind his words. "because you’re standing there, looking like that, and now i’ve got a problem."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen. "if you’re just gonna be annoying, i’ll go find someone else to spend valentine’s with."

you barely make it two steps before his hand catches your wrist, yanking you back with zero effort, making you stumble right into his chest.

"you think anyone else could handle you?" he murmurs, voice lower now, a little rougher, edged with something smug.

his other hand moves, trailing up your thigh, just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

you sigh, feigning boredom, your lips twitching. "big words from someone who looks like a walking valentine’s day decoration."

his brows lift, amused. "what?"

you smirk, tilting your head, your fingers lifting to brush over the pink strands of his hair. "pink hair, red eyes? loverboy, you are valentine’s day personified."

"yeah?" he muses, voice low, slow, eyes dragging over you like he’s figuring out exactly how he wants to ruin you. his hands trail up your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"then get on my lap," he murmurs, smirking as his hands slide lower. "if you're gonna dress like a present, i might as well unwrap you."

before you can protest, he’s already pulling you down, making you straddle his thighs.

you huff, shifting in his grip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. "if you don’t care about today, then what the hell is this?"

his smirk never fades, his fingers dragging up your back, his voice a low drawl.

"who said i cared?" he murmurs, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "maybe i just wanna remind you who you fucking belong to."

his hands move over your waist, his touch heavier now, his palms pressing firmly as he grinds up against you, letting you feel how hard he already is beneath you.

he groans softly, head tilting back just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours.

"fuck," he exhales, voice lower now, thick with something that makes your stomach coil tight. "go on, then. take what you want."

his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass, urging you to move against him, to drag this out, to tease him.

"shit," you breathe, nails sinking into his shoulders, feeling every inch of him beneath you.

he chuckles, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes gleaming with something smug.

"what?" his voice is laced with amusement, his lips barely twitching into a grin. "can’t even handle it?"

you glare at him, breath unsteady. "if you’d just let me—"

his fingers flex, his hips snap up, cutting you off as a groan rumbles in his throat.

"quit whining and ride me properly," he growls.

you inhale sharply, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, rolling your hips in slow, deep motions that you know will shut him up.

his hands fly back to your waist, grip tightening, breath growing uneven as his head tips back against the couch, his jaw clenching.

"fuck—" his voice catches, his body stiffening slightly beneath you.

his usual smirk is gone now, replaced by something hazier, his brows furrowing as his body tenses.

"god, you—" his fingers tremble against your waist, his rhythm faltering as you keep pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

his control crumbles, his breathing turning shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves as his forehead drops against your shoulder.

"shit—fuck, slow down," he mutters, but he makes��no real effort to stop you.

his hands grasp at your skin, his movements growing sloppier, needier, a soft, broken sound slipping past his lips when you roll your hips just right.

"you said to ride you," you murmur against his ear, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches.

he groans, deep and almost desperate, his hips jerking up instinctively, chasing the feeling.

"fuck," he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling beneath you, struggling to keep up.

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw. "then let go."

his entire body shudders, his grip on you bruising as his hips stutter beneath you, a wrecked sound breaking free from his throat as he comes apart, gasping into your neck.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his muscles tensing before finally going lax, his breath warm against your skin, his chest still heaving.

for a long moment, he just stays there, dazed, his head tilted back against the couch, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.

his smirk is weak, unfocused, but still there.

"you're still gonna fucking pay for that," he mutters, voice ragged.

you grin, dragging your fingers down his chest. "happy valentine’s, loverboy."

he groans, hands still on you, already shifting beneath you, already ready to flip you over.

"shut up," he breathes, lips curving into something sharper. "you’re not done yet."

❦ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji doesn’t believe in holidays.

at least, not ones that require effort. gifts, fancy dinners, long romantic speeches—all a waste of time, in his opinion. but that doesn’t stop you from raising a brow when you walk into the apartment and find him exactly where you expect, sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, looking like he hasn’t moved in hours.

"you’re pathetic," you say, dropping your bag onto the table.

he grunts, barely glancing at you, one arm propped behind his head. "and you’re late."

"late for what?" you scoff, kicking off your shoes. "don’t tell me you actually planned something."

he snorts, finally looking at you, eyes trailing down your legs, up your body before landing on your face.

"yeah," he mutters, stretching, shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of muscle, the deep v-line dipping into his sweats. "planned to be balls-deep by now, but here you are, runnin’ your mouth instead."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen until something on the counter catches your attention.

a small, neatly packed box of chocolate-covered strawberries sits there, next to a crumpled receipt. no ribbons, no gift bag—just the box, like he cared enough to pick them out but didn’t see the point in dressing it up.

your lips twitch. "so you did get me something."

toji groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up. "tch. they were sittin’ by the register. thought, ‘hey, maybe this’ll shut her up.’"

you pick one up, rolling it between your fingers before bringing it to your lips, taking a slow bite. the chocolate melts over your tongue, the juice spilling slightly at the corners of your mouth.

you hum, swallowing before flashing him a smirk. "you want one?"

toji watches you for a moment, his green eyes dark, tracking the way your tongue flicks out to catch the mess before it drips down your chin.

"nah," he mutters, pushing off the couch and closing the distance between you in a few lazy strides.

before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist, plucking the strawberry from your grip, pressing the juicy tip against your lips.

"bite," he murmurs.

your breath hitches, but you do, sinking your teeth into the fruit at the same time as he does. your mouths are barely an inch apart when sweet juice spills from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin.

toji grins against the mess, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming before he licks the trail from the edge of your mouth, slow and deliberate.

"fuckin’ sweet," he mutters. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth just enough to make your knees feel weak.

before you can say anything, his hand grips your waist, his other swiping the box of chocolates off the counter.

"toji—?"

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tucks the box under his arm and bends low, gripping the backs of your thighs before lifting you up effortlessly.

"toji, put me down—"

"well no," he says, smirking as he adjusts his hold, carrying you and the chocolates back toward the bedroom like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

you barely have time to process it before you feel the cool air of your shared room against your skin, and then he’s dropping you onto the bed.

before you can even sit up, he’s already pulling at your clothes.

"off," he mutters, voice rough, hands yanking your top over your head, pushing your bottoms down so fast it leaves you breathless.

your pulse jumps as he strips you bare in seconds, moving too fast for you to keep up, his own shirt already on the floor before you realize he even pulled it off.

his sweats hit the floor next, leaving him just as bare, the heat of his body pressing against yours again before you can even get a word out.

he smirks at you, running his palm over your thigh, like he knows you’re still catching up.

"dizzy?" he teases, voice dipping lower.

you glare at him, chest rising and falling, fingers curling into the sheets. "you—"

he doesn’t let you finish. his hand slides up, gripping your jaw, kissing you deep, messy, full of heat.

"shh," he murmurs against your lips, pressing you further into the mattress, his other hand reaching for the box of chocolates.

he plucks out another strawberry, dragging it over your chest, your stomach, watching as melted chocolate smears across your skin.

he keeps the strawberry on your mound, eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching the way your breath shudders when you realize what he’s about to do.

his mouth follows the trail, tongue dragging along the warm, sticky path, making sure to clean up every last drop.

and when he finally reaches the strawberry, he bites into it right where it rests, juices spilling, mixing with your own, and his mouth is on you in an instant, licking it all away.

you gasp, back arching, thighs twitching as his tongue moves slow, deep, thorough.

"fuck," he mutters against you, voice rough. "tastes better than chocolate."

his thick fingers slip inside you easily, curling deep. his tongue swirls against your clit, his pace ruthless, not giving you a second to process.

a mix of his mouth and fingers builds you up too fast, your body tightening, already spiraling toward the edge before you can stop it.

"toji—fuck—"

"mhm," he hums, sending vibrations straight through you, his fingers pressing deep, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

the orgasm rips through you before you even realize, sudden, overwhelming, your body trembling as he keeps licking, keeps working you through it until you’re pushing at his head, gasping for air.

he finally pulls away, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

but something’s different.

he looks down at you. his expression unreadable and jaw set tight.

"what’s wrong?" you ask, still breathless, voice hazy.

toji exhales through his nose, fingers tapping idly against your thigh. his jaw flexes, like he’s debating saying something but hesitating.

"forget it," he mutters, shaking his head.

"no," you say immediately, grabbing his wrist. "tell me."

he doesn’t look at you right away. his lips press together, like he’s chewing on the words, debating if he should even say them.

finally, he exhales. "i just—" he stops, brows furrowing. "sometimes i feel like… i don’t do enough. for you."

your chest aches at the way he says it, like he’s expecting you to agree. like part of him is waiting for you to confirm that he’s not enough.

"what, you think i need some grand romantic gesture?" you tease, running a hand through his messy hair. "toji, if i wanted candlelit dinners and corny love letters, i would’ve picked someone else."

you pull him down, kissing him slow, deep, like you need him to understand.

"you do more than enough," you murmur against his lips. "i have you. that's all i need."

he stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to believe it.

then he smirks, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

"good," he breathes, fingers tightening on your waist. "’cause i already booked us a flight for tomorrow."

you freeze, eyes blinking up at him. "you—what?"

he chuckles, brushing his thumb over your mouth before sinking lower, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw.

"figured you deserved a vacation’," he murmurs against your neck. "so we’re gettin’ the hell outta here for a few days."

your breath catches, excitement flickering through you, replacing the heat already settling in your stomach.

"where?"

he nips at your collarbone, dragging his tongue over the mark he leaves behind.

"you’ll find out when we get there."

you gasp, half-annoyed, half-turned on. "you’re such a bastard."

he grins, pressing another chocolate-stained kiss to your chest.

"yeah?" his breath fans against your skin, his voice dipping lower. "say that again when i’m making you cum for the third time tonight."

an. HAPPY LATE V-DAY LOVERS <3!

[sonarspace]

✩ content. 18+, wlw! yuki x fem! reader, grinding, teasing, thigh riding.

yuki is lazy with it, like she has all the time in the world. like she’s not in a rush to do anything but watch you squirm in her lap. her hands rest heavy on your hips, thumbs brushing idly over the dips of your waist. she looks up at you, head tilted against the couch, eyes dark and lidded. her smirk is lazy and teasing.

“cute,” she murmurs, like she’s observing something harmless. “you really couldn’t wait, huh?”

your fingers curl into the fabric of her tank top, trying to ground yourself as you rock against her thigh. her leg is firm under you, pressing up just right between your legs, and she knows it. she watches you, sharp and amused, letting you move at your own pace. it’s like she’s offering herself up, letting you take what you need without a fight.

“you’re always so greedy.” she hums, voice smooth, teasing. “so fuckin’ desperate to get off.”

your breath hitches, body shivering as she flexes beneath you. her thigh rolls up to meet the slow grind of your hips, making you gasp. her hands squeeze your waist, keeping you where she wants you. her touch is firm but easy, guiding. just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“yuki—”

“mm?” she tilts her head slightly, feigning innocence. “somethin’ wrong, baby?”

she knows what she’s doing. knows how good she feels. knows how much you need her. you’re already unraveling in her lap, thighs shaking from how tightly you’re pressing against her.

her mouth finds the edge of your jaw, breath warm against your skin. she ghosts her lips along the curve of your neck, up to your ear. “gonna cum like this?” she asks, voice dripping with amusement. her tone is light and easy, like she’s asking about the weather.

you nod, desperate, fingers tightening in her shirt. she chuckles, the sound low and pleased.

“good.” her hands slide up your sides, slow and deliberate. “then be a good girl and give it to me.”

[sonarspace]

✩ content. 18+, wlw! yuki x fem! reader, grinding, teasing, thigh riding.

yuki is lazy with it, like she has all the time in the world. like she’s not in a rush to do anything but watch you squirm in her lap. her hands rest heavy on your hips, thumbs brushing idly over the dips of your waist. she looks up at you, head tilted against the couch, eyes dark and lidded. her smirk is lazy and teasing.

“cute,” she murmurs, like she’s observing something harmless. “you really couldn’t wait, huh?”

your fingers curl into the fabric of her tank top, trying to ground yourself as you rock against her thigh. her leg is firm under you, pressing up just right between your legs, and she knows it. she watches you, sharp and amused, letting you move at your own pace. it’s like she’s offering herself up, letting you take what you need without a fight.

“you’re always so greedy.” she hums, voice smooth, teasing. “so fuckin’ desperate to get off.”

your breath hitches, body shivering as she flexes beneath you. her thigh rolls up to meet the slow grind of your hips, making you gasp. her hands squeeze your waist, keeping you where she wants you. her touch is firm but easy, guiding. just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“yuki—”

“mm?” she tilts her head slightly, feigning innocence. “somethin’ wrong, baby?”

she knows what she’s doing. knows how good she feels. knows how much you need her. you’re already unraveling in her lap, thighs shaking from how tightly you’re pressing against her.

her mouth finds the edge of your jaw, breath warm against your skin. she ghosts her lips along the curve of your neck, up to your ear. “gonna cum like this?” she asks, voice dripping with amusement. her tone is light and easy, like she’s asking about the weather.

you nod, desperate, fingers tightening in her shirt. she chuckles, the sound low and pleased.

“good.” her hands slide up your sides, slow and deliberate. “then be a good girl and give it to me.”

[sonarspace]

holy fuck....

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backward, sideways, upside down, on the floor, on the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in the rain, in a train, on a plane, in a car, on a motorcycle, the back of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earth quaking, sheet gripping, knuckle cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jittering, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, detectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell dissolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly awakening sex

[sonarspace]

this is how TA gojo looks like btw…

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆STUDY BREAK (FT. GOJO)

꒰ synopsis. being in the same class as gojo satoru was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse. content. college au. nsfw. (teasing. slight praise kınk. fıngering. oräl. p in v. multiple ōrgasms.) wc. 5.3k. an. to clear up any confusion 😭.. satoru’s a senior student + the professor’s assistant in the course you’re both taking. (fic is kinda all over the place so idk if this works but let’s pretend like it does).

there’s something about gojo satoru that drives you insane. not in the fun, heart-fluttering way that comes with a secret crush or the thrill of banter. no—this is the kind of insane where you want to hurl something, preferably at his stupidly smug face.

“class,” he drawls, leaning lazily against the desk at the front of the room, his shirt slightly rumpled like he doesn’t give a damn—and he doesn’t. “these papers? a mixed bag. some of you really impressed me. others… well.” his lips curve into a smirk. “let’s just say the recycling bin was hungry.”

you groan inwardly, already sensing where this is going. he’s done this before, holding your work hostage like it’s part of his routine entertainment.

“and here,” he continues, brandishing a paper like a prop. your paper. “is a prime example of someone… almost getting there. strong ideas, decent execution, but the conclusion? oof. fell harder than my GPA sophomore year.”

a few students laugh. your jaw tightens, the heat in your chest bubbling up into something sharp and biting. he doesn’t have to name you; everyone knows exactly whose paper he’s waving around.

“anyway,” he finishes with a shrug, tossing the paper onto the desk like it’s disposable. “there’s potential. keep at it.”

you don’t even wait for class to end before your resolve solidifies: you’re going to kill him. maybe not literally, but metaphorically? absolutely.

you don’t plan on storming to his dorm room. it just… happens. one moment, you’re replaying his smug grin and the way his eyes gleamed when he mocked your paper, and the next, you’re standing outside his door, your fist raised to knock.

he answers quickly, and the sight of him makes you falter. his hair is damp, sticking out in soft tufts like he just got out of the shower, and his plain white t-shirt clings to him in a way that’s almost—no. you shake the thought away.

“well, this is unexpected,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that’s all teeth. “if you wanted private tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, brushing past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.

he whistles low under his breath. “feisty tonight. to what do I owe the pleasure?”

you spin to face him, your hands clenched at your sides. “what is your problem with me?”

he blinks, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning full force. “problem? sweetheart, i don’t have a problem with you.”

“you humiliate me in class,” you say, your voice rising. “you make these comments, you single me out—what, are you that bored with your life?”

“humiliate?” he echoes, feigning a wounded look. “i think you mean ‘motivate.’ you’re one of the smartest people in that class. if i don’t push you, who will?”

“that’s bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you don’t ‘push’ anyone else.”

“because no one else is as fun,” he replies easily, his grin tilting into something sharper. “the way you react, the fire in your eyes—it’s addictive.”

your breath catches, the heat in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “in my room. alone.”

“because you drive me crazy,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

his eyebrows lift slightly, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by your outburst. “good crazy or bad crazy?”

he takes a step closer, too close. the kind of close that makes your pulse stutter and your instincts scream at you to step back—but you don’t. instead, you stand your ground, your jaw clenched as he waits for your answer, his gaze steady and almost daring.

“what does it matter?” you mutter, your voice quieter now, the heat of your earlier anger ebbing into something more uncertain.

“it matters,” he says, his voice low as his eyes flicker to your lips. “because I need to know if I can do this.”

before you can ask what he means, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t. his hand finds your waist, tugging you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

it’s like a dam breaking. weeks—months—of tension and unspoken words all come crashing down in a rush of heat and urgency. his other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, and the sound you make in response is embarrassing and needy, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

you should stop this. you should push him away, tell him he’s crossed a line. but the way his thumb brushes against your waist, the way he tilts his head just right, the way he kisses like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have—it’s addictive. you can’t stop. you don’t want to.

but then reality slams into you like a cold gust of wind. what are you doing? your chest tightens as the weight of it crashes down all at once, the heat between you dissolving into something sharper, more terrifying.

you pull back abruptly, your breathing uneven. “i can’t.”

he blinks, his expression softening from one of heat to confusion. “what?”

“this—this is a mistake,” you stammer, backing away. your hands feel clumsy as they fumble behind you for the door. “i shouldn’t have come here.”

“wait.” his hand reaches out, almost instinctively, but you’re already opening the door, your chest tight and your mind racing as you step out into the hall. you don’t look back, even as the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin.

────

you avoid him after that. in class, you sit as far from him as possible, claiming a seat in the back corner, close to the door. the usual tension he brought to the room—his teasing remarks, his piercing gaze when he caught you rolling your eyes—feels conspicuously absent. he doesn’t call on you, doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

it’s been weeks since that night in his dorm, and as the semester nears its end, the distance feels heavier with every passing class. his silence, once the thing you desperately wanted, now presses on your chest like a weight. you wonder if he regrets it, if he’s just as caught in the what-ifs as you are—or if he’s already forgotten.

the final project looms, deadlines creeping closer, but the distraction isn’t enough to stop the quiet ache that’s settled in your chest. you remind yourself it’s for the best. boundaries were crossed, a line you know you shouldn’t have stepped over. it doesn’t matter how he made you feel, how his kisses left you breathless and yearning. none of it matters.

and yet, every time you leave class, you rush, head down, praying he won’t stop you. and every time he doesn’t, the ache grows.

when class ends today, the air feels heavier than usual. your peers chatter around you, their voices blending into background noise as you pack your things quickly, eyes fixed on the door. if you can just slip out unnoticed, avoid another day of walking the tightrope you’ve been balancing on since that night—

but then a hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and familiar.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no edge to it, no teasing grin or smug undertone. just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

you freeze, your heart thudding in your chest. it’s been so long since he’s said anything to you that the sound of his voice directed at you feels foreign.

“i’m late,” you mumble, tugging your wrist weakly in an attempt to free yourself. “let me go.”

“you don’t have any classes after this,” he says, his grip loosening but not letting go. his eyes meet yours, calm but resolute. “i checked your schedule.”

your jaw tightens, irritation flashing through you. “you shouldn’t have access to my schedule.”

“probably not,” he admits with a shrug, a hint of the old satoru creeping into his voice, “but i’m me.”

you open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but he cuts you off first. “come have coffee with me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the casual offer. “what?”

“coffee,” he repeats, his tone light, as if this is perfectly normal. “you like coffee, don’t you?”

“that’s not the point,” you snap, yanking your wrist free from his grasp. “what is this, some weird apology?”

“it’s not weird,” he says, his smirk faltering slightly now, his expression open and strangely earnest. “it’s just coffee. with me.”

you stare at him, struggling to find the right words. “gojo,” you begin, your voice heavy, “you and i are not friends.”

his face falls, the shift so quick and unexpected that it makes your stomach twist. you see the way his shoulders tense, the way his gaze drops for just a moment, but you force yourself to look away. without giving him a chance to reply, you turn and push past him, your steps quick and unsteady as you leave the classroom.

the ache in your chest grows with every step, and even as you round the corner, out of sight, the image of his expression lingers. there’s no relief this time. only guilt.

────

you don’t know why you’re here. no, that’s a lie—you know exactly why you’re here. the memory of his expression, the slight drop of his shoulders at your retort, has been looping in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

your feet carry you down the familiar path to his dorm, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step. before you can talk yourself out of it, your fist is already knocking on the door.

it opens almost immediately, and the sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. his white hair is a mess, sticking up in chaotic directions, and his glasses are perched crookedly on his nose. there’s a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning against a book, and his shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep or hours spent working. he looks… soft. disarming. almost painfully cute.

“coffee,” you say, holding up the cups like a white flag. “can i come in?”

his lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the haze of surprise as he steps aside. “bribery, huh? didn’t think you had it in you.”

his dorm is as cluttered as you remember—papers and notebooks sprawled across his desk, a blinking laptop shoved precariously to one side. you set the coffee down on the edge of the desk, your gaze catching on the scrawled notes and dense blocks of text.

“grading?” you ask.

“research,” he replies, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. his hand rakes through his already-messy hair, making it stick up even more. “finals prep. you know, glamorous TA things.”

you hand him a cup, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. the simple contact sends a jolt up your arm that you stubbornly ignore. “thought you could use it.”

he hums as he takes a sip, his lashes fluttering briefly before he lets out a quiet sound of approval. the noise is so low, so soft, it makes your stomach twist. you glance away quickly, your grip tightening on your own cup.

“about the other day,” you start, the words quiet and tentative.

he glances up, the coffee still in his hands. his expression is unreadable, but his fingers still against the cup, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “you don’t have to explain,” he says, setting his cup down on the desk. “if you don’t want this—if i got it wrong—just say so.”

“it’s not that,” you blurt, the words tumbling out too fast, too raw. warmth floods your cheeks, creeping down to your chest. “i just… i don’t know what this is.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t fall into his usual teasing deflection. instead, he stands, crossing the small space between you with deliberate steps. his gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t control.

“let me show you,” he says softly, his voice low, uncharacteristically serious.

he’s so close now, his hand brushing against yours, his touch light, almost hesitant. and then his lips are on yours, and everything else fades away.

this kiss is nothing like the first. there’s no uncertainty, no restraint. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moves against yours, hot and insistent. your grip on the coffee slips, the cup hitting the floor with a dull thud as your hands find his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

when his hands slide under your shirt, the roughness of his palms against your bare skin makes you shudder. he guides you backward, his body pressing into yours until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. you sink down, the weight of him grounding you as he follows, his lips trailing fire along your jaw and down your neck.

his hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, brushing the underside of your ribs, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch of you. when he pulls back to look at you, his lips are curved in a wicked, breath-stealing grin.

“you’re infuriating,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his eyes rake over you, drinking in every detail.

“you’re worse,” you manage, though your voice is barely more than a whisper.

his grin widens, and his laugh is warm against your skin as he dips his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re already so worked up. it’s cute.”

“shut up,” you snap, though the way your hips arch into his touch betrays you.

“make me,” he challenges, his lips brushing against yours before descending lower, kissing down your collarbone and tugging your shirt higher with every inch. his hands roam greedily, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

his mouth is back on you immediately, nipping and kissing along the swell of your breasts as his hands work the clasp of your bra. when it comes free, his lips part in a satisfied hum, his hands kneading your soft skin like he’s savoring every second of this.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice husky as he leans back slightly to take in the sight of you. his gaze is heavy, filled with something dark and hungry that makes your stomach twist in the best way.

“stop staring,” you grumble, though the heat in your cheeks betrays the sharpness of your words.

“can’t help it,” he says, his grin tilting into something softer, more genuine. “you’re gorgeous.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his other hand trails down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches as he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“can i?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his expression serious.

you nod, and he wastes no time. his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is there immediately, coaxing you to relax under his touch.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick as his hands part your thighs, his gaze drinking in every inch of you. “so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks flush, and you try to turn your head away, but his hand cups your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “not tonight.”

his other hand slides between your thighs, his touch featherlight at first, teasing. when his thumb brushes over your clit, a jolt of heat shoots through you, and your hips buck involuntarily.

“sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “i barely touched you, and you’re already squirming.”

“shut up,” you snap, your voice shaky as your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you. but the way your body reacts—arching into his touch, chasing the pressure���makes it clear that his teasing isn’t far from the truth.

“you don’t really want me to, do you?” his voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. “i think you like when i talk to you like this. when i tell you how good you’re doing, how fucking beautiful you look right now.”

your chest heaves as his fingers dip lower, sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness. every movement feels deliberate, calculated, like he’s savoring every second. when his fingers finally slip inside you, the stretch makes your head fall back, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate at first. “you feel so fucking good, baby. so perfect.”

your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “oh my god—gojo—”

he tuts sharply, his fingers pausing inside you, his thumb stalling its maddening rhythm. your head snaps up, breathless and confused, to find him staring down at you with a dark look, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“no,” he says firmly, his voice low and commanding as he tilts his head. “say satoru.”

“w-what?” you stammer, your heart racing as his fingers remain perfectly still, the tension building with every passing second.

“not ‘gojo,’” he says again, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his grin sharpening. “say satoru.”

you hesitate, your breath hitching as your body trembles beneath him. he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make your toes curl, and your resolve shatters.

“satoru,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the syllables.

his smirk widens, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb resuming its slow, torturous circles on your clit as his fingers pick up their rhythm again, harder this time, deeper.

your head falls back against the mattress, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure builds again, higher and hotter than before. his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, breathless and needy as he drives you closer to the edge.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with praise as his free hand slides down your body, his touch possessive. “just like that, baby. let go for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens to the breaking point, and when he curls his fingers just right, pressing against the perfect spot, it snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, and his name spills from your lips in a broken moan.

“satoru—fuck—”

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval as he works you through the waves of pleasure, his movements slowing but never stopping until your body goes slack beneath him, trembling and spent.

he pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, satisfied hum. “even better than i imagined,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, his eyes gleaming as they roam over your flushed, trembling body.

you blink, your breath still uneven as his words settle over you. “wait—” you say, your voice catching slightly. “you’ve thought about this?”

his grin widens, slow and deliberate, and he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so his face is just inches from yours. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “you really think i haven’t?”

your cheeks flush even hotter, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “you’re—” you stammer, at a rare loss for words. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous?” he repeats, feigning offense, though the wicked glint in his eyes never falters. “i’d say i’m a man of focus. you’ve been in my head for weeks, driving me insane with that sharp mouth and the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”

“i don’t—” you begin, but his lips curve into a knowing smirk, cutting you off.

“you do,” he insists, his tone softening just slightly. “and every time you glared at me, every time you rolled your eyes or bit back some little retort, all i could think about was how much i wanted to shut you up. like this.”

his lips capture yours again, and this kiss is slower, heavier, laced with an intensity that makes your toes curl. his hands roam, sliding over your bare skin with a reverence that feels almost out of place against his words.

when he finally pulls back, his gaze is still on you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “and now that i’ve got you,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.”

the weight of his confession leaves you breathless, and before you can respond, his lips are trailing down your body again, his hands parting your thighs as he settles between them.

“what are you—” you start, but his eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them steals the rest of your words.

“relax,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “i’m not done tasting you yet.”

his hands slide to grip your thighs, pulling you apart with ease as his lips descend, brushing over your inner thighs, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you again, you feel your body arch instinctively, your breath leaving in a sharp, unrestrained gasp.

he’s relentless. his tongue drags up your folds in a languid stroke before circling your clit with maddening precision. his mouth is hot, the slick, wet sounds mingling with your soft moans, and his breath—warm and uneven—fans against your skin with every movement.

his hair brushes against your thighs, soft and messy, and your fingers thread through it again, tugging sharply enough to make him groan against you. the vibration of it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“satoru,” you gasp, but it’s barely coherent, your voice breaking as he latches onto your clit, sucking just enough to make your toes curl. “oh my—”

the cold press of something against your inner thigh pulls you out of the haze, just barely. it’s sharp, unfamiliar, and you glance down—his glasses. they’re still perched on his nose, slightly crooked, the metal frame fogging faintly from the heat of his breath. he’s so lost in the moment, so focused on the way his tongue works against you, that he hasn’t even noticed.

your hand drifts down, brushing against the cool frame, and you slip them off without a word. the absurdity of it—the way he’s been eating you out with his glasses still on—makes you want to laugh. the corners of your mouth twitch, and a soft sound bubbles up in your throat, but then his tongue presses flat against your folds, dragging up in one slow, deliberate motion, and the laugh dissolves into a sharp moan.

your head falls back against the pillow, your hand tangling back in his hair as you toss the glasses onto the bed with the other. the noise they make as they hit the mattress is faint, drowned out by the obscene wet sounds of his mouth, the low hums of satisfaction he lets out as he devours you.

“fuck,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicks against your clit again, faster now, more insistent. your body arches instinctively, chasing the pressure, and his hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth.

he growls against you, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you in a way that makes your toes curl. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, and the sharp scrape of his teeth against your swollen clit has you seeing stars.

“so fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your slick skin. “can’t get enough of you, baby.”

you can’t respond, can’t think. the only thing you can focus on is the way his tongue works against you, precise and relentless, building the heat in your stomach until it’s unbearable. your fingers twist in his hair, pulling harder, and the groan he lets out in response sends you spiraling.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, breathless and broken. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his mouth dragging you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold on any longer.

your orgasm hits you hard, ripping through you in waves that leave your entire body trembling. your hips jerk against his hold, your moans loud and unrestrained as you ride it out. his tongue slows, working you through every aftershock until you’re left panting, boneless against the bed.

when he finally pulls back, his chest is heaving, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. his hair is a mess, strands sticking up where your fingers had tugged, and his eyes—those impossibly bright blues—flick up to meet yours, gleaming with satisfaction.

“twice,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs as he takes in the sight of you—flushed, panting, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his grin is lazy, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s done to you.

“you’re staring,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“hard not to,” he replies, his tone low and full of amusement. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch soft, teasing. “you look so fucking good when you come.”

your cheeks burn, and you want to glare at him, to tell him to shut up, but the words catch in your throat as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. in one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, the movement effortless and maddeningly confident.

your eyes follow the shift of his muscles, the way they ripple under his skin, lean and defined. a faint sheen of sweat glistens across his chest, catching the dim light, highlighting every sharp line and curve. your gaze drifts lower, down to the sharp ridges of his abdomen. the faint trail of white hair starting just below his navel draws your attention, leading your eyes further, until his hands move to the waistband of his boxers.

he doesn’t rush. he hooks his thumbs under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach. as the fabric falls away, your breath hitches.

he’s fully bare now, and your mouth goes dry.

his cock is… breathtaking. thick and flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking beads of precum that catch the light as they drip down the length. it’s long, the kind of length that makes your thighs press together instinctively, wondering how he’ll fit, but the heat pooling low in your stomach burns hotter, overriding any hesitation.

his hand wraps around it, and he strokes himself slowly, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the wetness there. the motion is deliberate, almost lazy, and the soft groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine.

you’re staring—you know you are—and he notices, his lips curving into a wicked grin as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, slick and hot. “i’ll make it fit.”

his words send a shiver through you, his voice low and dripping with confidence. the weight of his cock against your folds, hot and heavy, is enough to make your hips twitch instinctively, chasing the friction. but he doesn’t push in right away—of course he doesn’t. instead, he drags the head up and down your slick, letting it catch on your clit with every pass, teasing you until you’re squirming beneath him.

“satoru,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. you’re not above begging at this point. “please.”

his grin widens, his head dipping to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “what’s the rush, baby? we’ve got all night.”

“satoru,” you repeat, more insistently this time, and he groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his cock twitching against you.

“fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight now, losing some of that smug edge. “you sound so pretty when you beg.”

he lines himself up, his hand still wrapped around the base as he presses the head against your entrance. the stretch is immediate, a sharp, overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.

“holy shit,” he breathes, his voice rough as his head falls forward, his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’re so fucking tight.”

your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your breath catching as he sinks deeper, the fullness stealing every coherent thought from your mind. he pauses halfway, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“you okay?” he asks, and there’s something softer in his voice now, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your voice shaky as you answer. “yeah. just—keep going.”

his jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he starts to move again. every inch feels impossibly deep, your walls stretching around him, and when he finally bottoms out, you both pause, your breaths mingling as you try to adjust.

“fuck,” he groans again, his voice strained as his hips twitch against yours. “you feel so good. better than i ever—” he cuts himself off with a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “shit, you’re perfect.”

you can barely respond, the stretch and fullness leaving you trembling. but then he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. the drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you moaning, your head falling back against the pillow.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving as he sets a steady rhythm. “good girl. taking me so well.”

your hands trail down his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin, and the groan he lets out sends a fresh wave of heat through you. his movements quicken, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and every thrust has him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you cry out.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips again, and he leans down, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drives into you. “you feel so good—so fucking perfect for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens with every roll of his hips, the pressure building higher and higher until it’s unbearable. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur, and your moans grow louder, more desperate.

“come for me,” he demands, his voice rough and low in your ear. “let me feel you.”

the command sends you over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, your body arching into his as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. your walls clench around him, and the sensation makes him groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

“fuck—” he gasps, burying himself as deep as he can go as he comes, the heat of him spilling into you, thick and warm. his head falls to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick and charged as he finally pulls back, his weight pressing into you as he collapses onto the bed beside you. his arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he presses a soft, lazy kiss to your temple.

“told you i’d make it fit,” he murmurs, his voice still rough, but there’s a hint of smugness there, his lips curving into a small grin.

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your body still trembling against his. “you’re such an asshole.”

“yeah,” he agrees, his tone light, teasing, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “but you like it.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat to it, your lips curving into a faint smile as you bury your face against his chest. “shut up, satoru.”

“never,” he replies, and the warmth of his laughter vibrates through you, grounding you as your breaths slowly even out.

an. gojo with glasses... *hnnggghh*

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[sonarspace]

♱ content.  18+, clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, public play, exhibitionism, fingering, teasing.

clan leader gojo who sat at the head of the table, all striking white hair and piercing blue eyes that reflected the soft flicker of the candlelight. he commanded the room effortlessly, his voice smooth as he responded to the elders’ questions, a calm smile tugging at his lips. from the outside, he was the epitome of composure, the image of power and grace.

but under the table, hidden by the pristine white cloth, his long fingers were buried inside you, dragging along your walls with a slow, maddening precision.

you sat perched on his lap, your kesa spread perfectly to keep up the illusion of decorum. but beneath the folds, gojo’s hand had snuck under the layers, his other arm resting lightly around your waist to keep you from squirming too much.

“stay still,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. his voice was low, just for you, but there was a playful edge to it, like he was daring you to disobey.

your nails dug into his thigh, the only outlet you had for the tension building in your body as his fingers pumped into you, curling just enough to send sparks shooting up your spine. you bit the inside of your cheek, desperate to keep from making a sound.

“gojo-sama, about the kyoto branch...” one of the elders began, their voice blending into the background as your focus narrowed on the steady rhythm of his hand.

gojo hummed, nodding slightly as he answered, “ah, yes. we’ll deal with that soon. no need to rush.” his tone was light, casual, as if his fingers weren’t knuckle-deep inside you under the table, as if your thighs weren’t trembling against his.

you felt his hardness pressing against your lower back, a constant reminder of just how much he was enjoying this. his thumb brushed over your clit, and you jolted slightly, your body betraying you. his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you firmly in place.

“careful, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath warm against your temple. “wouldn’t want them to notice, would we?”

your cheeks burned as you clenched around his fingers, and he groaned softly, low enough that only you could hear. “so tight,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “and so wet. you’re making a mess.”

your breath hitched as he sped up just slightly, his fingers curling deeper, finding that spot that made your vision blur. you bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the gasp that threatened to escape, but a small, broken sound slipped through anyway.

one of the elders glanced in your direction, concern flickering across their face. “gojo-sama, is everything alright?” they asked. “your wife seems... distracted.”

gojo’s grin widened, his blue eyes glinting with mischief as he gave them a disarming nod. “she’s fine,” he said smoothly. “it’s been a long day for her. isn’t that right, darling?”

you managed a shaky nod, your face burning as you tried to keep your voice steady. “y-yes,” you stammered, barely holding it together as his thumb pressed harder against your clit. “just... tired.”

“ah, of course,” the elder said with a polite bow, their attention returning to the conversation.

gojo leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “good girl,” he murmured, his tone so low it sent a shiver down your spine. “you’re taking it so well.”

your thighs trembled, and you felt the tension building higher, tighter, until it snapped. you clenched around his fingers, your release washing over you as you slumped back against his chest, trying desperately to catch your breath.

he didn’t stop right away. his fingers slowed, stroking you gently as he murmured soft praises in your ear, his hand on your hip keeping you steady. finally, he pulled his fingers from under your kesa, his touch lingering as if he couldn’t quite let go.

before you could even glance his way, he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste you.

you froze, heat blooming in your cheeks as he sucked his fingers clean, slow and deliberate. his lashes lowered slightly, and he let out a soft hum of approval, like he was savoring the taste.

no one noticed. the elders were too engrossed in their meals and discussions to spare him a second glance.

gojo leaned back, his other hand giving your thigh a firm squeeze as his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “delicious,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. “i think i might need seconds later.”

you glared at him, your face hot, but he just smiled, flashing his white canines as he turned his attention back to the table.

“as i was saying,” he said smoothly, lifting his wine glass as if nothing had happened, “everything seems to be progressing well.”

[sonarspace]

✩ content. 18+, subby! sukuna x fem! reader, hand-job.

sukuna who’s not used to being submissive.

he's supposed to be the one in control, the one who towers over everyone else. but here he is, the king of curses, sprawled out beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries to hold himself together. it's humiliating the way his body reacts to you, trembling under your touch, the way his lips part as soft, broken sounds slip out. he could stop you. he could pin you down and take control in an instant. but he doesn't. instead, he lets you lead, lets you ruin him, lets you see him like this.

he's shaking, his muscles tight as your lips trail down his chest. you're slow, taking your time as you kiss along the sharp ink etched into his skin. sukuna's breath stutters when you linger a little longer, brushing your tongue against the lines of a tattoo, and his head tips back against the pillow.

you can feel the tension in him. every time you touch him, his hips twitch and his fingers flex against the sheets, like he's holding back from grabbing you. it only makes you want to push him further.

when you reach the mouth on his stomach, it twitches. its teeth part slightly, a low groan rumbling from his lips, and sukuna curses under his breath as his hips jerk.

"fuck," he mutters, his voice hoarse. his hands clench tighter at his sides, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you.

you press your lips to the second mouth, letting your tongue skim its edge. sukuna's whole body jolts, a sharp gasp ripping from his throat. "stop teasing," he chokes out, but there's no weight behind the words.

"you're so sensitive," you say softly, brushing your lips over the edge of the second mouth again before kissing your way back up his body.

when you kiss him, his lips tremble against yours. they're soft, warm, and you feel the faintest whimper slip out when your tongue slides into his mouth. his hands finally come up to grab your hips. the grip is shaky, like he's grounding himself, and you smile into the kiss, knowing how much he's falling apart.

you pull back, just enough to look at him. his eyes are heavy-lidded, his chest heaving, and his lips are parted as though he wants to say something but can't get the words out. "you're so pretty like this," you murmur, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

his breath hitches, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "you're cruel," he mutters, voice raw and breaking.

"you love it," you whisper, your hand sliding lower.

he shudders when your fingers wrap around him, a strangled moan spilling from his lips as you stroke him slowly. he's hard, so sensitive it makes his hips twitch with every movement. his head falls back, his mouth opening as another broken gasp escapes him.

"fuck," he groans, the sound thick and desperate.

you tighten your grip, your thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the wetness already there. his hips stutter, chasing your touch, his breath catching with every stroke.

"please," he chokes out, and it sends heat pooling in your stomach. hearing sukuna beg like this feels unreal, but the way his body trembles under your hand is enough proof.

you move faster, stroking him with just enough pressure to push him over the edge. his hands cling to your waist, his fingers tightening as his moans grow louder and messier. his whole body tenses, and then he's falling apart, hips jerking up as he comes undone. a wrecked moan tears from his throat, his head tipping back as his chest heaves.

you don't stop, stroking him gently as he rides out the last tremors, his breath shaky and uneven. his hands loosen their grip, falling back to the sheets as his body sinks into the mattress. you press a soft kiss to his jaw, your hand brushing over his chest, and when his eyes flutter open, he looks wrecked. 

crimson eyes dark and hazy, his flushed skin matches the faint pink of his hair, damp from how hard you've pushed him. there's something raw in his gaze, something so vulnerable, and he looks at you like you've taken everything from him and he'd let you do it again.

an. i miss posting frequently but unfortunately posts are going to be slow because i started uni again and it’s hella stressful + i’m working too. i’ll definitely try my best to do two posts a week but it’ll most likely once a week or once every two weeks </3.