#jjk x you

[tonycries]

BIG BOYYY!

Synopsis. He’s a big boy, and he’s gonna make that biiig stretch fit.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, making it fit, they’re BIG, cervíx kíssing, D slipping, tummy buIges, manhandIing, p sIapping, GOJO’S POWERS, limitless, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, use of “my wife”, BRÉEDING, overstím, creampíes, cúmplay, ROUGH (Geto), squírting, mating presses, MARATHONS, slight exhíbitíonism (Higuruma), proposals, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. We all need a big boyyy-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - ENORMOUS!

“Don’t tell me yer runnin’ already, doll?” Toji’s husked breaths scorch the sagging back of your neck, a few sploshing dewdrops of saliva splattering out from his scarred lips. “M’not even hah! halfway in yet.”

What? Oh. Your head dizzies itself with the mere thought, a soft gasping moan wafting from your gaped maw. “Y-you’re lying–”

It was just too cute how your stupidly lolling head wrenches back and forth in a desperate attempt to take a goood, long look behind at the way he’s opening you up sloppily. Just the merest, tiniest swab of that tannish-pink tip spreading open your gummy walls, stretching n’ stretching. 

“M’not.” Toji grumbles out, gruff syllables hitting the curved tips of your ears. The rickety bed creaks and suddenly he’s slouching back; resting his weight just at the base of your curved spine. Before you know it, he’s got a foot pressing down on your head- “Watch me make it fit, mama.”

Two rugged hands homing themselves on either side of your prettily quivering hips, you could feel every scar and callus texturing your heated skin once Toji grits his teeth and draaaaags you down. 

Knees scuffling on the silken sheets, jittery arms trying to grapple for the headboard- anything.

You’re like a lil’ doll underneath him, all shaky as he’s manhandling you to gulp up the needy slope of his length with your slick-covered hole. More and more and more. A glossy layer of sap splashes from where he was stuffin’ you to the brim, drenching the very base of Toji’s happy trail in a glittery lacquer. 

“Would ya look at that–” You hear him drawl out from behind you, the fat pad of his thumb rubbing sluggishly down the sticky liquid pouring along his hilt. “-think this pretty pussy wants to end up hck! pregnant, doll.”

Shit, the idea he’s plugging your cottony brain with was enough to make you slobber with your arousal. You can’t help it. “Th-then do it.”

Dark brows quirked, Toji’s inching even closer to hear those whispered words of yours. And in the process he’s feeding you with a sloooow slide of his vein-covered shaft.

Almost mockingly, one of his engulfing hands reaches out to uncurl your own from the frigid bed frame. Stealing away the only thing keeping your semblance of sanity, Toji plants a sweet, sweet peck on your knuckles. “Wha’s that?”

“Th-then–” You can barely punctuate each trilling whine with words - and Toji isn’t making it any easier. Quite the opposite, in fact, after he ruts n’ ruts as you try to cry out– “-do- do it. Do it- fuuuck- wan’ you a-all inside-”

The last ringing sound out of you is a noisy squeal– followed almost instantly by the soggy slurp! of him mazing his gluey pre-capped tip past your glossed folds. And as if that wasn’t enough, Toji’s tightening his grasp on your wrist to leverage you down, down, down.

“P-please–”

“P-p-please!” He taunts dramatically from behind, octaves higher. The meaty muscles of his leg work overtime to push down your thrashing body, pinning you down and making you take it. “Stop fuckin’ moving n’ gimme- gimme a kiss, mama.”

Your tears stream down in sheeny streaks, blending with the ever-growing puddle of drool that was drenching the pillow underneath you. Poor lungs wheezing at the pressure, your sobs depart with every new swollen, throbbing inch being shoveled inside you. “H-how?”

“Tch.”

You don’t have to see it to know that Toji’s rolling his mossy, half-lidded eyes - to know that the curled ends of his lips were twisting into a lecherous smile. 

But what you certainly didn’t expect was the fleeting feeling of his lips to trace right down in a line of kisses along your perfectly arched spine. Like the calm before the storm.

The sweetest little act of pure lovin’ before Toji sets your fuzzy head free from his pressed weight, and then hooks both your arms behind your back and bottoms out–

“Meant givin’ me a kiss right ngh- here, doll.” Those snarling words strike the outside shell of your ear right before his fat, ruby-red tip was striking your cervix. Oh. Oh. 

The moment your velvety pussylips wrap ‘round his bulked base, Toji Fushiguro himself was practically collapsing right on top of you. 

His pointed chin digging into the clammy crook of your neck, sweat-polished abs glissading glibly down your back. How you looooved the drag of his naturally chiselled front, every cutting edge of his built muscles. 

He’s so fucking plump there that you can feel your fleshy innards bruise with the staggering circumference of his proud crownhead. Sweltering hot, Toji’s mushroomed tip was practically steaming out dribbles of glossy precum that flooded you from the inside out. A sleek, slippery few wires of it beading from either end of your stretched-out slit. 

Probing, fattening. 

And the stretch- oh, you couldn’t think about anything but the stretch. 

Toji wasn’t simply bottoming out, he was sinking his achy cock all the way into your lungs. Ravenous planes of his palm roaming over your tummy, Toji smirks as he feels that familiar lil’ bump from the inside. 

“Feel me? Feel me d-deeeep in that cute bulge, hm?” The sensory spheres of his fingertips scratch that bulged outline, proud. Smug. Your lungs rip out with a primal cry as his dribbling tip pokes deeply into the goopy ends of your pussy. Your cervix. Your womb. “Giving her a little ngh- kiss right here.”

“K-kissing there?” You’re babbling, stupidly.

“Mhmmm–” A few adoring little runs over where he was hitting and hitting the targeted bullseye of your g-spot. Sloshing out messy sprays of precum each and every time. “Here. Riiight here, ya hah- like it- don’cha? S’cute how wet you are.”

And you can’t even believe he’s this big - you can’t believe that he’s bloating himself up even bigger with every ragged ba-dump–! 

Pound after pound.

After pound.

The vibrations thud down your humid walls and shoot white-hot pleasure right up your spine, tongue too-heavy. “So big- so big so big— s-shooo good!”

“Yeahhh? Shooo good, is it? Look at you takin’ that f-fucking cock you said was too big.” Your teary pupils start swirling in circles upon circles inside of your eyes, matched with the exact same pace that Toji was thumbing on the shiny outside of your hole. Letting out the rawest, loudest sluuuurp when he pushes a thumb in– “Now we’re gonna work on that hck! stretchin’, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Cuffin’ season.

Nanami thinks he’s about to lose it - Nanami thinks he’s about to combust. 

And he already has- a proper five helpings of his creamy, buttery cum coating your insides after so many rounds upon rounds. You were stuffed to the very brim with all your husband’s sweltering hot bouts of seed, and his tastebuds coat over with a fresh wave of saliva at your hugging cunt.

Mouth-watering. 

Nanami turns his molten, honeypool eyes over to the way your mouth hung wiiidely agape. His ruby-red tip spotting out a few more dangerous splotches of pre at the very sight of you struggling to take him more than just halfway.

“My love—” Deep baritone voice dipping into a gentle coo, his stern lips swerve up into a little grin when your pretty body trembles. “Open your eyes, darlin’- lemme see those beautiful eyes.”

Shit- you’re simply cross-eyed and dazed almost cartoonishly once you do. Your throat ripping with a few sobs at the feeling of his swiveling cock probing a few inches deeper - without even trying. So overstimulated that you can only blubber–

“K-Ken- Ken–” Hips trying and failing to raise off of the drenched-through bedsheets, you’re only succeeding in carnally itching the hood of your clit against his golden happy trail. 

“M’here, my wife–” Aw, it always made his blushed red tip twitch whenever you got this cockdrunk. A tint of loving red flushing over his high cheekbones, and one of Nanami’s massive palms claw over your sweat-matted crown to push, push, push. “You can take it, g-gonna take it allll f’me this time- aren’tcha?”

And you can only nod and nod– your sloppy hole always got so much needier after a few good, solid orgasms. N’ every scrape of his swollen, vein- shrouded shaft left you speechless, head throwing back when the grinding curve of his cock pinpoints your g-spot like two magnets. 

Nanami’s so big that he had to get you all dumb until you’re aching to be stuffed ever-more. Hiding away about ten proper inches that instinctively molded your battered pussy to all his pretty measurements. 

A few curly hairs of his tawny trail tickle your plump clit, waterlogged into a swampy mess with how much you were leaking. How much he was making you leak.

“Real pretty pussy, darlin’.” The cold fringe of his wedding band makes you let off a whiny hiss, smearing open your puffed-up pussylips with a sluggish sluuuurp. “So cute grindin’ on me. She’s like a lil’ hah- heart.”

Glassy, half-lidded eyes of yours blink upwards, “Shit-” Your unsteady knees thrash back into the curves of your tits, feeling his tannish cockhead slip against your sponged cervix. Tender. Bruised. You can’t help but throw your head back and reach for your headboard- “Shit shit shit shit- Ken–!”

“No no no no- don’t run away, my love–” Grunting, one of his arms clings around your squirming waist to pin you down. To hold you still so that Nanami’s other hand can guide one of your own over his plushly toned left pec - where he had your initials secretly tattooed, right above his heart. “Gonna take it, alriiight? Gonna take it like my hngh- good wife.”

His pretty wife. His gorgeous wife. 

Slobbering down thick stripes of slick n’ cum as he curls a hand around your throat and ruts. “S-see how much I love you, hmmm?” His split-ended head searches for your cute womb, and such saccharine mewls leave your lips once you feel yourself gapingly full. Once he was pounding a heavy-duty thrust into you until every thought departs your fuzzy mind. Bottoming out. “How much I- oh.”

Your entire body just lathers with the smell of sex and his musky cologne once Nanami’s sensual mushroom tip unapologetically snags against the ridged orifice of your g-spot. Whack. Whack. Whack- all it takes before you cum.

And you’re not just cumming - you’re squirting. 

Your vision invaded with spots of white-hot pleasure and you’re falling over the edge, arms throwing around his neck. Fingers reaching for his perspiration-dewed undercut, “Fuck- fuck m’cumming m’cumming, Ken–”

Like he wouldn’t notice– yeah, right. Nanami’s slamming into you until his pelvis rubs rawly crimson, raspy throat clogging up with your name. Your cunt just flinches with every peak of high he’s fucking you through. Dragging you through.

Really sloppy. 

Continuously probin’ the tender places of your magical spots with every echoed thwack! Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets as he swabs up the syrupy sheen of squirt decorating all your inner thighs. 

Those slick-drenched tips of his fingers sticking right between your slackened mouth, “Sweet- isn’t it, darlin’?” Breaths labored and harsh- Nanami himself sounded like he was only keeping himself together at the very seams.

His long, light lashes flap blearily, “What- wha’s that?” You’re only gurling out lucious lil’ spitballs from either side of your mouth, heart-eyed pupils doing most of the talking. His face tints a blushing pink, temples matted with beads and beads of sweat. “Awww, my wife wants ta s-spit in my ngh- fuckin’ mouth, huh?”

And before you know it- you are. Before you’re even in control, so that your husband’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with a moan– “Mhmm– there we go, my sweet girl.” Mouth doused. “Happy?”

The curvaceous ridges of his abs gleam and glitter with sweat, tensing once his thrusts grow sloppier. Deeper. Shoving you into the screeching bedsprings, such a nicely burning stretch that your lips keep uncontrollably forming an adorable lil’ oh! The only thing snapping you back into reality being the layers of viscid cum gumming against your walls, and the way that Nanami’s bulbously bloated tip twitches.

Fuck- he didn’t even know if he could cum. Didn’t know if he even wanted to. 

But with you laid out underneath him like this? How could he not?

Trying and trying and trying and when Nanami finally reaches his high it’s with his pummeling inches pillaging your very glossed core, allll the way deep inside so that you could almost feel him in your throat. Burning hot. 

One spurt, two spurts. He’s not even reaching three slippery, slick ribbons of cum before he’s all milked dry. The very mound of his blushing tip slapping constantly until Nanami’s visage spots black. Until his toes curl, thighs shivering. 

You look up at him and you think you could cum all over again. 

Because he’s so fucking…pretty. 

All blond hair disheveled- but doing nothing to curtain his greedy gaze, sweaty upper lip trembling– Nanami pecks your forehead sweetly, “Mmmm– marry me all over again, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Rrrrrrough

Now, Geto was so big that all he has to do is plug your cunt with his red n’ swollen tip to leave you stupidly cockdrunk. To leave you mewling and squirming underneath him in such a sloppy, sloppy mating press - your hips jerking off the bed as if your dew-sheened walls weren’t just begging for more.

And ohhh, was he smug about it. 

“C’mooooon–” Geto’s sharp grin is so sleazy that you feel it sending electric trills down your desperately arched spine. Perspiration-dampened forehead resting on top of yours, he plants a resounding smack! on your puffed lips. “-s’that all ya got, gorgeous?”

Pap after powerful pap that was making your slick-dribbling entrance start to overflow, rounded globular tip of his scratching your walls down straightly in lewd lines. The deeply probing sensation so sinful that it makes you keen, “N-no! Stop teasin’ n’ just fuck me, Suguru.”

“Fuck you with-” Another spank, and another singular inch bullied past your hole. “-jus’ the tip, riiight?” 

As if to prove his point - oh, he already knows he’s proved his point - Geto’s fucking you with only that globed top. Frosting out creamy pre every time his shaft crownhead “accidentally” slipped out n’ left you clenching around nothing. 

Geto leaves three staccatos of spanks over your still-clothed, ruined cunt, the burning friction against his delicate veins making him hiss. “Can this pretty pussy even handle all hah! that?”

Such a tease. All you can do is clench your poor walls instinctively, formulating a few frothy bubbles of slick that ring around his fat hilt. Messy. “No, I want it a-all.”

His stubborn girl. 

Well- with a rickety creak, your unsteady legs are being thrown over his deltoids before you know it. Slipping n’ sliding until he’s locking them with one grasp of his beefy arms, making you ogle the sexy flex of his milky biceps. 

Geto Suguru was a mean man. With an even meaner cock, swelling into an even girthier circumference whilst he’s thumbing open your sap-glossed pussylips. Your cunt lets off the loudest, moistest sluuuurp! as he’s splattering a good bucketload of spit. 

“Hmmm, you asked for it–”

And then he isn’t easing in - he isn’t going slow. Hell no, in mere sultry nanoseconds, you’re being split so open by the entirety of Geto’s ruddied, prolonged length that you see stars.

Perhaps even the gates of heaven themselves- or, at least, you would have if you hadn’t caught a glimpse of his devilish leer. Gleaming pearly whites clenched so hard that his tastebuds coat with the slight twang of metal, gruff. 

You’re slapping at his cushy pecs and thrashing at the wide-wide-wide stretch. Even he was fucking losing it- long lashes fluttering to fight back from wrenching them shut, mouth agape, throat bobbing. 

Grunting, “C’mon- c’mon now.” Every syllable was punctuated with a harsh drag of his slobbering cock, your drenched panties only pulled to the side n’ at the complete and utter mercy of his pulsing length. His breath hitches when a solid slam! of his hips leaves your pussy spurting out in a scorching hot bucketload of slick.

Thick, sphere-shaped ends of his fingers dig underneath your underwear and reach back to give your leaking cunt a quick snap! “T-take it alllll up f’me, gorgeous. Tha’s right.”

And the sheer stretch is so good, carnally itching each inch and ounce of space inside you. The crowned cap of Geto’s boated tip makes your nails claw all dooooown his prominently muscled shoulders. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Suguru–”

“S’that all ya hafta say?” With a quick roll of his hazed amethyst eyes, he’s snatching one of your wrists to trek up to his clammy throat. Sticking your palm over, he’s making sure your nails dig cutely into his skin. And through the glued cracks of your eyelids, you think you see his lips glisten with drool. “Choke me a lil’ don’t be ngh- shy–”

Geto’s slender hand pops out with so many decorative veins once he’s making you tighten your clingy arms. 

The curled tip of rose-pink tongue flops out between the slobbered crevice of your lips, and he’s slouching languidly to pound you on his vulgar length. A rocking back n’ forth that spearheads all the way from his bulbous dripping head to the neat tufts of his happy trail.

Having his own way with you, sliding that heavy cylindrical weight inside as you spill out in pitchy whines. 

Not too fast - something laaaaazy and sensual that leaves you counting every ruthless inch. One. two. Three. Seven. Nine- 

“Sh-shit, s’too much–” You’re crying out, your lips warbling out the cutest sobs. Geto’s long, inky hair softly tickles the sides of your face as he leans down ever-closer. Letting you scratch and bruise allll that you pleased. 

“Yeah? Yeah? Take it- take it all out on me, girl.” He’s snickering out, thwacking the curvaceous edges of his digits to make your fingernails leave pretty crescents on his heated flesh. A bright, burning blush breezes over his skin at the feeling of you caressing him from the inside. “Mmm- Lemme feel ya squeeze- lemme feel it.”

So pretty the way both sets of your lips were gleaming in a burnished sheen of sap, dangling out of your entrance in slippery ribbons. 

Honestly, you’re pulsating so hard that the throb of your fluttering folds was visible to his greedy eyes. With a sleek, quirked brow, he nudges away your sappy lips and pinches your puffed-up clit. 

Oh, you gasp.

Such a tease. Rubbing on your clit, Geto’s egging you on with every thundering slam. Just the skidding crown of his shaft leaving simpering smooches all underneath your g-spot. He was long enough that even a slight inch too deep leaves a battered crater up against your spongy cervix, blushing red tip overspilling so many copious globs of pre. 

Again and again.

“Harder.” 

“Wh-what if I choke you-”

“Harder.”

His half-lidded eyes flash when the inner sides of your thighs twitch, breaths lilting unsteadily airier in a way that was so telling. You were about to cum from just his sheer size.

And as adorable as that was, Geto had something else on his mind.

Your mouth pants out a sugary puff of air when you’re manhandled in nothing but seconds. Head spinning with comical stars when he’s flipping the two of you over to rest the globes of your ass on his sharply jutted v-line. Plump clit dragging all over the wiry hair on Geto’s base. 

Body shuddering as if you couldn’t believe just how deeply plunged he was, the raised circle of his geysering orifice houndin’ your cervix. It’s all you can do to focus your glassy peripherals on his sweetly flushed face. 

“Now…” Words coming out labored and loving– Geto guides your hands to squeeze his pretty neck tight. “Choke me wh-while you ride this biiig fuckin’ cock, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Be humble?!

“Ch-Chooooso–!” Your spit-glued lips flap stupidly with each n’ every nudging inch your sweet, sweet boyfriend was slipping inside of you. Sloooowly, so that you’re seeing stars on every thick, throbbing vein slipping past your slit. Sensually opening up spots you didn’t even know existed. 

Honestly, he wasn’t even halfway in and yet he had you seeing stars- “More. More, baby.”

And Choso? Oh, it was brutal.

The very moment that shrilling whisper departs from your pretty mouth, his parched Adam’s apple cracks with a whine. Clinging on helplessly to the side of your quivering hips with a massively clammy palm, he watches up through half-lidded eyes while you take him vulgarly good in this mating press.

Every squelch after squelch after squelch making his mushy brain oversaturated with only the thought of you and that sloppy, sloppy pussy.

A wet trickle of saliva starts up from the cherry-red corners of his lips, “Ohhh, you’re so wet.” Practically swallowing every thrust. “Am- Am I really that haaaah! big, baby?”

Was that even a question?

Damn near nine- maybe even ten whole inches that snagged at your most tender orifices without even trying. Every sharp plap! of Choso’s rutting pelvis swerving into yours left you dumbfounded, with only the slightest push of his thickly capped tip pokin’ your g-spot. So wide that your mouth was dropping into the same pathetic ‘o’ your pussy was being stretched out into. 

And he was so messy with it, too - honestly, you didn’t know if you were soaked through more because of your sappy wetness or because of the way that his ruby-red cockhead was drenching you from the inside out in such syrupy globs of pre. 

It’s sticking the inners of your trembly thighs together like adhesive, spattering out a few beaded speckles once your body comes slamming up to Choso’s. 

“I-it is.” You don’t even have to fake the way your voice shatters, a whiny little pitch that fills his vibrating eardrums like his favorite song. 

His massive hand digs even tighter on your waist, holding you almost midair so that your perked clit was gyrating deliciously against the scratchy texture of his dark happy trail. Frolicking to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. “I-is it really?”

“Yes- yes, Cho—! C-can feel you so ngh- deep inside…” Your watery pupils sprint dartingly towards the backs of your eyes, “Wan’ you even deeper.”

Fuck- a steamy batch of even more precum dribbles inside your snug cunt, so much of it that Choso has to drag his thumb between your slivery slit. Scooping up a few wadded webs from your puffy folds to plug inside your mouth-

“Don’t- don’t s-say that! Don’t talk like that-” Preeeeessing down on you with all his bulking, toned weight to make you shut up. He’s huffin’ in scorched pants against your headlessly wheezing lips, the scratchy texture of his cute tongue coming down to flick at the drool seeping endlessly out of you. “-s’g–gonna make me cum. Gonna make me…”

Choso was so fucking pretty that you’re distracted for a good few seconds.

All dampened, mahogany hair and doe-eyes that peered down at you shyly. The very bridge of his button nose crinkles once he feels your intense gaze on him, cheekbones staining with a blossoming red blush all the way from the very tips of his ears. He was hot. 

And before you can even blink your tear-glittered lashes, you’re being flipped over with only a fraction of Choso’s true strength. So that you’re on top of him.

Both groaning in carnal unison- did his length somehow bloat even bigger? You swear you’re feeling him bully a few more moistened inches past the rubbery ring of your entrance, tugging open your gummy walls. 

“T-tell me how big again–?” Slightly smug streak showing off. 

“So- oh!”

The plush mattress rickets out soft creaks! as his sculptured abdomen pushes upwards against your tight channel. Again. And again. And again and again- “Keep talkin’, baby. Wanna fit it- wanna- need ta fit it all–”

Your hands sprawl out precariously on top of his tensing core, smearing over the sheeny gloss of sweat on his pecs. Gasping swiftly, “Ch-Choso- nghhh- what-” Promptly, your spine arches into the perfect curvature on top of him, crashing your mouth into his. “What- hngh- tell me what you want, baby–?”

Oh, Choso’s almost too busy suckling on your kiss-bitten lips like his favorite candy to answer. Leaving a cloying stain of spittle behind, he’s slouching back into a sexy stance against the pillows. All eyes on you. “C-can do that- that lil’ thing with your ngh- chips, baby? Wan’ you to ride me hard.”

And how could you deny him when he was boring dead-on up at you with fawny heart-pupils like that?

“You meannnn— this?”

Geering yourself up, you’re immediately motioning your hips into the most lecherous figure eight that leaves Choso slobbering - from both fountaining divots. All the way from his simmering, drool-flooded tastebuds to that innocently strawberry-pink aperture he’s streaming out of.

Filling your tender nooks n’ crannies with so much dewy seed, his meaty thighs are splaying open like a slut so you can curve your hips into more rounded circles. Swabbing the pounding ba-dump-! of his pulsing cock ‘round and ‘round, your heart lurches to your throat when he’s tap-tap-tapping the firm ridge of his mushroomed tip on your bruised g-spot. 

Almost like…a little warning. 

A warning before Choso grabs a fistful of your slam-impacted ass and pulling you to him. Finally, finally bottoming out.

From what sounds like far off in the distance - at least to your popped ears - lets out a strained rasp. “...swallowing me. Ngh! Swallowing allll of me, my girl.” Breathless. Broken. Octaves higher, like Choso himself couldn’t believe. 

“Th-thank you-” And all you could see of his pretty eyes right now was pure white, he was in heaven. His upper lip coating with a fresh wave of perspiration, he was practically melting into you right now. Mouth parting at the clingy strands of his own cum simply pouring out of you. “Thank you- thank you thank you thank you— nghh–”

“S’cute, Cho–” He twitches rawly when you loll your head down to sneak a peck near the edge of his mouth.

“S’embarrassing…” And you’re feeling his fat cock jolt a few more times inside of you, sploshing around in the mess he’s created. Dangerously so. Oh, you knew what that meant. Sparkling eyes locked down on where your pussy was throbbing, Choso’s plump lower lip wobbles as he’s hiccuping out, “Oh…m’gonna make a mess again, baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Big, big, big

“S’not gonna fit like that, ma.” The king of curses has the audacity to roll his devilish eyes at the sight of your pitifully trembling legs, clawing a hand down your sheeny glossed inner thighs with a snicker. “Ya gotta hold ‘em up nice and hah- wide-”

Whining, your calves burn. “Like this?”

“Wider if yer gonna take me.”

Honestly, this full nelson was the absolute meanest you’ve ever been put into - and Sukuna was ruthless. 

Not even your whimpering wails was enough to stop him from stretching your drooling pussy out with rounds upon rounds upon rounds. He had stamina till the end of time- and your gummy, cum-slicked walls were simply holding him hostage. 

Frothing out a thick knot of creamy white seed right on top of his matchingly hard cocks, one of Sukuna’s four arms reach down to thumb allll over the mess you were making. Smearing out a polished shine where his rotund tips were bawling, “Why’s this pussy so fuckin’ wet, brat?”

With a stinging slap to your dripping pussymound - and then another one with the front of his monstrous second tongue, you were just about ready to collapse. 

“Honestly–” Sukuna’s cushioned pecs rumble you up n’ down like a bobblehead as he titters, pinning you down with a lil’ choking hand on your tender neck. “-do I hafta teach ya how to k-keep it inside?”

“Fuh-fuuuuck–!” The dreamy sighs of your moans increase tenfold once you’re mercilessly facing the steady lap of his tongue. His massive tongue. The one split open where Sukuna’s washboard abs were slickly glissading behind you, monstrously letting your cunt gush and pour down his second throat. 

So filthy. 

And Ryomen Sukuna knows he could make swift work with your milky pussy, he knows he could save you your embarrassment of hearing those raw squelch-squelch-squelches! every time the plummy hill of his tongue was flopping back n’ forth down your silvery slit. 

But where was the fun in that?

Instead, he’s bouncing his incredibly meaty thighs to jostle your helpless body up further. Sneering, “Keh- making such a mess of things, brat. N’ I’m the one ta clean it up.” You swear you’re feeling both sets of his mouths grin at the glue-like coating slipping between your legs. “Ya know what this means?”

It takes you a few seconds to pronounce your gasps out through the globs of spittle watering your mouth, “Wh-what?”

“Now I hafta ngh- fill this cute cunt up again.”

But Sukuna didn’t sound sad about that fact.

No, the exact fucking opposite. He was delighted to feel the way your aroused dribble slips out in a steady waterfall at the round, stout crowns of his cocks break past your first snug ring of muscle. Pushing and pushing and pushing.

“S’that what you want, human?” He coos hoarsely from behind, so fucking big - all of him. Simply towering underneath you to manhandle you into every pliable position possible. 

One of Sukuna’s pink-tipped nipples grazes your mouth and before you know it, you find yourself sucking. Tongue sloshing out such fat wads of spit that it leaves your throat feeling oh-so-parched, “Shiiiit- Ya got e-even wetter, dirty lil’ thing. Look at how she’s droolin’ f’me.”

Drooling was an understatement. 

Your cunt was practically flooding in translucent bucketloads of silvery slick- and another hot load leaks out of you that Sukuna swipes a thumb down, popping it swiftly into his mouth. 

So caught up in the simmering heat of his skin and his saccharine taste that you don’t even realize it - anything - before Sukuna’s splitting you apart once more.

Grunting, “Oi oi- watch the goods.”

Your hand reaches out somewhere, anywhere– and ends up clawing red, red lines across his tattooed shoulders. “P-please.” You’re babbling out stupidly, head fizzing into empty cotton at the red n’ swollen cocks stuffing inside you. Deep inside. Sukuna’s overspilling divots scrape against the tender spots embedded into your walls and leaving you sobbing.

“Loud girl.” 

Splat! Your mouth crashes against his palm in a gentle cupping - and not just his palm, Sukuna’s second cursed mouth that had manifested its way expressly to make out with your kiss-bitten lips. 

Lecherous mouth parting yours to roam over n’ over into every nook and cranny, his tongue was just savoring your taste like a gummy. Your driveling sap leaving the mountain of his palm glued to your chin, Sukuna chortles, feeling the treacly splats of saliva. Hot. “Wanna hear her, m’kay, ma? Her.”

Another bulky few inches of his fattened lengths, so big that every throb leaves your body jerking helplessly. Bucking and bucking - every striking pap! just to fit inside. 

Sukuna was so inhumanly big - both of his cocks so achingly hard it’s as if they were made out of diamonds. Stacked right one on top of the other and sagging your poor cunt with the sheer weight of him. 

As if he stretches on for miiiiles before your tear-dropped gaze catches sight of those sexy black rings tattooed around Sukuna’s bases. Barely even visible underneath the frosty white syrupy of his seed sploshing at your womb. 

Every tiny slip n’ slide makes his slick lengths rub deliciously against one another, stretching you out wiiiidely. The fat spherical curves of his cockhead pull you tautly open until you’re speechless. He didn’t even need to try to leave your tummy bloated with the cylindrical bumps of his twin, swollen cocks. “Awww, look at that lil’ ngh! Bulge.”

Caressing a thickened pad of one set of fingers over where he was filling you up ridiculously, pressing down. Hard. “Kuna-”

“Hmm- say the magic word. Beg a lil’ more f’me.”

Your jittery legs are pushing back and he’s dragging you back down. It always did make him groan just how much you could take, stoppin’ you from running your pretty self away. “Please!”

Sloppily jerking until with a final, heaving rut- he’s bottoming out.

“Please- please please please–” The caps of your knees hit your tits while Sukuna splays you out sluttily, blinking down eagerly at the way your crevice gulps him till the very end. Overstuffed. “Fuck me- ngh! Fuck me, Kuna–”

“Oh- m’not just gonna fuck you, spoiled brat–” He’s biting down on his lip, feeling the way your sloppy pussy clenches in surprise once the textured edge of his second mouth once more tickles your outer folds. And you gasp–

“Whaaaat?” Sukuna drawls, dangerous. Pussydrunk- enough that you’re sure his next few sloppy syllables come out a whine. “M’hungry, ma. N’ you’re the sweetest lil’ desert.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “Sh-shut up…”

And not even Ino’s desperate tug ‘round his sweat-tinted ski mask could hide away the feverish blush cascading across his face. Growing ever-redder whilst he snaps off the last few dampened remnants of his condom.

Broken.

Your mouth waters with something hotly simmering as you take in the entire sight of his ruby-red tip, as plump n’ wet as a popsicle - and just as sweet, you’re sure. Now, Ino was big– prettily thick enough to leave your cunt throbbing, with veins for daaays decorating his length. 

Throb-throb-throbbing merely at the thought of you. 

And the only thing more irresistible than his fat, swollen cock was the boy himself in all his pussydrunken glory. 

Your tone dips with something sensual, thick whilst the words depart from your ajar maw. “Baby– show me your face.” You’re perking your hips up to his, drawing looong slippery glides down his perfectly ridged length. “C’mon, Taku–”

The tawny edges of his bangs fray out, almost curtaining his dewy, half-lidded eyes. Ino leaves a staccato of thwack! thwack! thwacks! right over the saturated slope of your pussy. Spit-dribbled lips parting with need, “Sh-shhhh. M’gonna hah- cum from jus’ that pretty voice, sweetness.”

You’re almost left speechless at the utterly vulgar slurps emanating from down under, just the crowned tip of his maddening length teasing your sloppy entrance. Your rubbery hole catches on his globe-shaped cockhead and you almost keen—

“Oh, Taku—” Your voice warbles out prettily, trilling with the type of pout you knew would make his heart race. “Wan’ you to give it t’me- don’t be shy, please, baby.”

The only indication that your poor boyfriend had heard you was the pink flush breezing all over the tip of his ears to the back of his neck. And Ino sinks the pearly white edges of his teeth into his lower lip, a thin trail of sweat beading down his temple. 

Pumping his hips in a sultry back n’ forth, the tip-top of his streaming divot spurts out the most lecherous globs of pre that drip between your slit. Down, down, down.

Greedy hands sliding underneath his mask, pulling it off- “Pl- mmpf!”

He couldn’t handle another beg from your gorgeous, gorgeous mouth. Couldn’t handle another second of you drooling from both puffy lips in need of his fat cock. 

Before you can even let out the final few syllables of your finishing blow, Ino sticks his hands into an interlacing crown on top of your sweaty scalp and pushes you down. Teasingly slow so that you’re crying out on every zig-zagging vein scratching your magical insides, the plummy ends of his base leaving your tender pussymound stinging with his chesnut happy trail. 

Pushing and pushing, every thickly bludgeoning inch leaves you slobbering. Your hazy irises running away alllll the way towards the deep, dark depths of your eyelids at the feeling of him probing. 

And when it rains– it pours. 

Just a single inch - not even halfway inside your fountaining orifice and Ino finds himself gone. Long lashes flapping, spit-slicked mouth gawking, fuck- even his poor thighs were trembling with every suckling slip you’re swallowing up.

“Oh…oh.” Comes out Ino’s labored breaths, the plumpness of his lips dragging mindlessly across your cheek. Huff! huff! huff! comes out his steaming pants, voice croaking. “Th-think I’m…in love-”

Smearing your shaky legs further apart, the circles of Ino’s eyes dart down to watch every. single. second of the way your swollen pussylips were quivering around his proud cylindrical circumference. Aroused. 

“T-Taku.” You whisper, and the man flinches. Moving in a flurry - moving all at once to shrug off his ski mask completely and watch you.

Almost as if on autopilot, the doughy tips of his digits dart down to your clit. Tender. Worshipping. Drawing the most filthy circles right over where your hooded peak was the utmost sensitive- you swear you even catch him scooping up a few wadded knots of your juicy slick and slipping them into his mouth.

The blacks of his pupils dilate once a deepening push has your snug ring of muscle resisting - his wide girth so fucking big that you’re still struggling to take him. Oh, somewhere along your sap-flooded walls, you feel his bulbous head starting pulsing. 

“Go inside.” Ino strains out - still not looking at you, still not even breathing. “Go inside go inside go- please-” His melodic baritone cracks after every rut, every massage of his toned abdomen tensing over yours. Fingers faster, yearning. “K-keep your legs held up f’me, pretty- c’mon–”

Your limbs are trembling, aching at the stinging slams he was pouncing on you. Battering away. The only thing flitting about your mind being the raw stretch and Ino’s “-pleasepleaseplease. Take it.”

And once you do - once with a good few vulgar strokes, he bottoms out - Ino thinks he’s seeing heaven. The fringes of his fingertips twitching on your sensitive nub, making you see stars. 

A fog of sweltering groans escapes him, toned chest glittering with a few specks of sweat as he heaves. As he hunches his shuddering body over and bucks–

“Sh-shiiiit, Taku–!” Your jaw drops into the prettiest lil’ oh! Hips raising a few centimeters off of your creaky bedsprings with sheer force because Ino was fucking into you rough. “It’s good- so good s-sooo—”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

Something in Ino’s voice was taking a high lilt, crazed. And your eyes shutter at the slow buzzing sensation of cursed energy leaking from his fingerpads. Possibly to stop the two of you from breaking bones.

You’re gurgling out, “You’re so pretty Taku–”

Suddenly, his round tip swabs the doorway to your womb pointedly. Swiping a generous dollop of creamy pre, and Ino’s breath catches. Feeling the heated mess he’s making inside, wanting to make more. The clingy center of his palm touches right over the middle of your tummy, pushing down. “I love you.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST

You knew you shouldn’t have let Gojo Satoru hear about this lil’ thing called a…mating press. You knew you shouldn’t have painted a sinful enough picture that the strongest lost his goddamn mind. 

Pretty cerulean eyes flashing with something primal before he promptly threw you over his shoulder and fucking teleported to your bedroom nearby. After that it was lights out for you– or, at least, it was hours and hours ago. 

His slightly-trimmed happy trail drenched until the snowy white’s almost turning into a faint purple, the length of his ravaged n’ raw aching cock still jackhammers away in overstimulated little rocks against your hips. 

Over and over Gojo’s reaching magical orifices you never knew possible. So biiiig that each thrust feels like an eon, dragging dragging dragging all the way from his blossomed red tip to his massively bulged hilt. Ridiculously wide.

Fat wads of knotted cum clinging onto the tender underside of his blushing shaft, he’s positively ruining you from the inside out. Stirring your goopy insides about with every maddened slam! his vicious pace, the pinpricked divot right on the middle of his globed mushroom tip stings with how hard he’s plapping into you.  

“Please- p-please–” Your eyes crinkling with adorable beads of tears that sparkle in the dim lighting- in the way Gojo’s own gaze glows with bolts of blue, blue lightning. “S’fuckin’ good, Toru—”

And not even that lil’ nickname of yours makes Gojo move- doesn’t even make him falter like he usually would. As if he was in a trance. 

Plunging and plunging the barrelling inches of his girthy length until all gusts of air whoosh from your panting lungs. He weighs his towering, sheened body over your own and presses down, thumbing away your sap-glued folds with a squelching sluuurp to help you take him all in. 

“Gotta- gotta get you-” Comes out his crackling voice, raspy. Broken enough that it’s almost a growl - he’s set off and he won’t stop. “Gotta get you- need to get you-”

“Get- get me what–” You’re gurgling out, even though you already had a fuzzy inkling about the answer. 

“Gotta get you…” He’s trailing off, mellifluous voice withering away into nothing when a hand drifts over your tummy. Where a luscious little bump was formulating, where it was growing ever-rounder n’ rounder with every splosh of buttery pre being pumped into you. Oh. 

There’s a leaden ball permanently homing itself in Gojo’s bobbing throat like he couldn’t even begin to finish his sultry sentences. Simply letting them waft over the clam-struck crook of your neck right along with spattering sprays of perspiration. 

And tears. Oh, were there tears.

Your lovely boyfriend’s pretty peripherals were just glossed over with so many countless layers of water, salted caramel tears striking your features after every whacking slap!

So wide that even your unfastened maw couldn’t open into a sweetly innocent ‘o’ as girthy as that of your slick-pouring hole. Rubbery ring stretched out soooo fucking wide that those brutal bucks made you overspill with Gojo’s soppy white cum.

Gasping. Heaving from the deepest depths of his chiseled chest, “C’mon- in- in in in—”

Struggling to fit him in with all your sappy stuffing. 

“N-noooo s’leaking…” Your whining whimpers reach his popped eardrums and make the strongest jolt, like he’d just been struck by a thousand different voltages. Blearily, his pupils escape from the backs of his heavy lids and rest - unfocused - on your fucked-out face. You pout, “-s’wasting.”

And Gojo’s eyes sliiiide sluggishly down to where your pretty pussy was leaking, drooling with an ivory fountain of seed. And then allll the way back to your hazed heart-eyes. Oh. 

You were fucked. 

It all happens in a singular bat of your tear-stuck lashes- in one nanosecond, Gojo’s soundlessly rovering his elongated fingers to scope between your dampened thighs and casting a miniature limitless. Plugging you up until those sloshing ribbons of cum were ceased right behind your geysering entrance. 

Full. 

“Now s’in-” Gojo gapes, and somewhere along the way you’re registering that his softened palm on your tummy is simmering out steam. Powerful. A scorched burn of a blush invading his handsome cheeks- “Now for her- her-” The hand toying with your pussymound slips a singular fingerpad inside to stretch you wiiiide open- “-need inside. Inside.”

Pounding and pounding, the velvety hug of your pussy was so tight that every swollen, red inch inside let off the most lecherous squelches. Your pupils swirl in stupid circles, “Inside- w-wan’ it all inside, Satoru.”

Gojo’s pace was starting to sound like rapid clapping, the smell of powerful ozone and sex clinging onto him by the time he bumps his sweat-matted forehead into yours. 

Whispering from the guttural back of his rusty throat, “You can do- you can you can d-do it, sweetheart.” It’s just about the first coherent sentence he’s let off in hours now, unable to even speak unless he wants to exert himself- or cum.

The fringe of his pasty end of his thumb sticks like adhesive against your pussy and lets himself plunge in ever-deeper. “Take it. Take it, please.” Rumbling baritone breaking. A crooked smile twists his cherry-red lips, crazed. “Gotta get you pregnant, my girl.”

It was a promise - and Gojo Satoru was a man of his word. 

A steaming cloud of moans depart from your bruised lips when Gojo circles his motioning hips back just enough- enough to angle out a direct whack to your cervix and hit it. Bottoming all out. 

The stretch was astronomical now that his tender ballsack was up n’ personal with the treacly base of your cunt, twitching the very moment a surprised bout of slick seeps through his limitless and drenches him. And you’re simply mewling at the texture of his tiny white curls tickling your clit. 

Swirlin’ the shivering tip of his shaft until he’s thoroughly massaging all your sweetest spots, mapped out. Though, the way that a ring of cursed energy circles Gojo’s sapphire irises makes you think he’s using his power without even realizing. 

Without even thinking. Without even breathing– nothing but a low mutter of “Get pregnant- get- get pregnant.” Burning fingertips smearing your legs open wider, “Need it- want it- gotta breed- fuck! Gotta get- pregnant-”

Your knees slap the mounds of your tits, back arching helplessly against your coiled mattress springs- and you swear a few were breaking through the silken sheets. Tattered. “Give it- fuck fuuuuck–”

Filthy, desperate probes. 

You didn’t know who was more gone - you or him.

He’s just so hot that he’s practically burning. Feverish all the way from the simmering sizzle of skin pressed up against your skin, and the furious tip on his massively tunneling length. Red hot. Simply melting.

Hooded eyes locked on your bulging pussylips, his swallowed-up digits give a firm sort of spank just to confirm. Just to make sure his saccharine mind wasn’t dreaming. 

“It’s in–” he breathes out, overworking heart thud-thud-thudding against your chest whilst he still failed to catch his breath. A silvery globule of spit dribbles from Gojo’s hanging maw to yours, wrenched shut by one of his firm hands so you can swallow. “-all in. All mine. Mine t-t’get you pregnant, my girl.”

And this is where the real fun was about to start.

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Rodeo Romeo!

Higuruma wasn’t just big - he was massive. 

He was thrusting the knobbled globe of his cock past your gluey, glutinous lips and watching with a slight blush as you whiiiine. Your spit slicking out in thin ribbons each n’ every time he dips his rounded mushroom tip in a deep push into your mushy depths. 

So springy, even the slightest recoil leaves you aching for more– stringing out pearly beads of slick. He’s just so plump that you can feel his dribbling orifice cushion your g-spots with repeated blows. Again and again.

Until your knuckles pull taut against the edge of his office desk– right where your husband’s laptop was open on a partly-muted work call only mere inches away.

It’d taken about an hour - an hour of cockwarming and teasing and driving the stoic man wild until he’d crushed that button to turn the camera off and immediately plugged you stupidly full. Just like you’d wanted.

“Ya got it, angel.” Higuruma lets off gruff whispers against one of your ears, snickering to himself at the way his scorched hot breaths make your skin erupt in goosebumps. The wiry frames of his work glasses press up against your tender throat- frigid plastic steaming cold. “S’good, hm?”

So intimate - even though your buzzing eardrums could make out the noises of his colleagues chatting so closely. So lecherously. 

“S-s’good–” you breathe, squirming at the way his fattened balls meeting your plump folds in a loving kiss hello. You lurch at the slight wet plop! of his battering cock sinking even deeper inside of you. “So good, Hiromi.”

His fatly padded thumb draws sensual circles where your hips are hitting at a stinging pace, “Yeahhh? Why don’tcha r-ride it then, sugar?” 

Oh, your weakened knees are on the very verge of collapsing simply at the thought. Thighs shaking lewdly as your body moves before your hazed mind, a clingy film of tears glossing over your eyes once your ass settles on Higuruma’s manspread lap and pushes–

“H-hck! Hiromi–!” You hiccup- shit. Hands flying up to your leaky mouth to firmly slam it shut- your eyes roll to the back of your head at the warm splatters of drool that seep into your doughy palm.

“S’okay- s’okaaaay–” Higuruma croons from behind, the forefront of his abs tensing sexily as he’s bucking off the chair from behind to meet your sloppy cadence. Long n’ swollen cock prying your sticky walls apart until any and every thought of the work meeting flits from your mind. 

He’s probin’ his most prominent vein up against your bulging g-spot, hips angling to massage in exactly how you loved it. How you loved this biiig stretch. “No one’s gonna know.”

Your tear-stained head raises blearily up at him, “Wh-what?”

“No one’s gonna ngh- know, angel.” Nodding his head towards where the call was muted and had the camera off. You’re arched so perfectly on his thick, muscled thighs that Higuruma can’t help but jerk his knees in a slight bounce. 

There’s a rickety creeeak! of his seat as he’s lifting up your ass so that he can take a loooong, proud look. “Oh, look how wet she is.” Pinkish tongue gliding along his lower lip at the sight, “Ride it-” Pausing for just a second to slap the spherical pads of his fingers on your asscheek, “-ride it like it’s y-yours, sugar.”

And you couldn’t stay silent even if you wanted to. 

The sharply spanking slam of your hips back into his was just so sinful, fleshy mounds of your ass jiggling with each impact after impact. Repeatedly. Higuruma’s tufted hair scratches the tender outer edges of your pussy and makes you shrill.

“P-please-” You sound as if you’re on the edge, face burying into your hands- only for them to be ripped away by your husband.

Pecking his soft lips near the edges of your slobbery maw, darting his tongue out to liiiick sultry flops of his tastebuds across your streaky tears. His plump lips suckle ‘round your candied tongue, “Theeeere she is, good girl- good girl. Faster.”

Hands grappling for the table- the blank documents he really should’ve been working on. Your head throws back with a breaking mewl, “Fuck- fuuuuck–”

“Faster now- atta girl.” Brazen dollops of pre trickle down, down, doooown your dewy walls and out from your silvery slit. Higuruma’s thighs twitch with the boiling hot splatters of it hitting his papping limbs– harsh. 

“Ride it- ride this biiiig fuckin’ cock now.”

Harsher and harsher, his cherry-red leaking tip is just probing upwards against your cadence. With a squeeze of your gushing insides that makes him groan, it takes Higuruma a good few seconds to realize that his name is being called from what seems like eons away.

Before you can think - before you can even breathe - his ringed finger comes barreling between your pouring lips. “Shhhh, suck on it.” He gruffs out. Curling that cold wedding back right into the sensitive back of your throat– Higuruma unmutes. 

Something about contracts, something about business that still can’t distract him from how well you were milking every solid inch of him.

And with one hit - two - you’re not just drooling all ‘round his fattened, split-end length- you’re cumming. Sparks of white-hot flashing behind your eyes and making syrupy globules of spittle drip down to his pale wrist. Your body gives a sudden rut- and oh, Higuruma just about loses his mind.

Voice cracking mid-sentence, nostrils flaring, his darkened eyes widen at the realization that you were reaching your highest point already. 

“H-Hiro…” Your barely-audible mewls make Higuruma’s nails claw into the plush of your pretty, pretty thighs. Slamming ‘exit’ on his call as rapidly as humanly possible–

With a wet splosh tuning from between your slapping thighs, your husband’s shoving you into the biting mahogany of his desk and pumping you full of such thick, wadded droplets of cum. Loooong, long ribbons that splash all the way from the buttery puddle on your cervix to where your pussylips were overspilling.

Torrents. He was cumming more than usual, too– gruff tone ripping out of him rawly, “Th-think–” So mean with his cock, you’re ending up reaching your own orgasm probably a few more times at the way he was drilling into you like a beast. “Fuck- fuck, I c-can’t think.”

Sinking himself all balls-deep, you were positively fit to burst. His rugged pace carving out a special lil’ bruise where your spongy pussy ended. Your tummy flutters incredibly with both butterflies and the treacly sap of his cum drip-drip-driiiiping out of you. 

Unbuttoned shirt tracing your sweat-dripped spine, chiseled abs glissading down your skin, his fogged-up glasses were all but toppling off of his flushed cheeks. 

Steamy, flattened tone licking a looong strip from your shoulder to your sagged mouth, Higuruma haphazardly tosses one of his muscular legs on the desk and bucks his ripped front– “M’next assignment’s g-getting this pussy bred, angel.”

A/N. Y’all I think ovulation’s near- ANYWAYS, I hope you have a lovely week <33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fushiguho]

warnings pussy whipped satoru, breeding :p

satoru gojo who gets sooo fucking drunk off the way you ride his cock that he’s drooling all over himself. splayed beneath your body and blabbering, a rivulet of saliva dribbling from the corner of his gaped mouth, trickling down his neck.

scattered wisps of ivory adorn the pillow beneath his head, stray pieces framing his perfect face and wreathing around his chin. he’s not there, not really, yet all he can feel is you. clinging to your pretty body with searing hands, pulling you closer, fucking you deeper. he wants to consume you—embody every last bit of your overwhelming pleasure to absorb you wholly, completely.

“fuck, you’re so pretty,” he babbles in a single, gasping breath. his hands reach for the sides of your face, pulling you close. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty… god, you feel s— so good, gimme a kiss, baby.”

the kiss is so sloppy and haphazard and wet. and his lips are feverish as he whines into your mouth, hungrily sucking on your tongue. something of a whimper leaves him as he briefly parts from your mouth, a thin gossamer of glittery saliva wedding your lips.

a roaming hand finds yours, grabbing it before greedily directing it toward his parting lips. three of your fingers are prying his jaw open, pressing against the jagged point of his canines. satoru let’s off the prettiest groan, his warm wet tongue dragging over the soft pads of your digits before closing his lips around them and sucking.

“phf— fuck meee,” he muffles, slobbering down your knuckles.

the boy is whipped.

his eyes have gone dark, pupils blown into pretty, lustful hearts. you could do anything to him and he would let you, or even beg you. he will never be ashamed of his need for you, for your body. not even as his desperate hips begin to rut beneath you; sloppy and stuttered as he greedily follows the pounce of your body.

he needs more. needs to feel the tightening of your messy little pussy around his cock, and the way you’re going to drip all the way down to the fat of his swollen balls when you finally cum on it like he needs you to.

“fuh— fuck me, baby.” a pretty, unabashed groan follows his request, head woozy as it sinks deeper into the plush pillow. “ohhh, fuck me… please, fuck me h-harder. oh my… oh my god, i need it.”

satoru watches as you reach behind yourself, blindly grabbing ahold of his tensing thighs. he hiccups when you lean back, drunkenly following the undulation of your hips as your head lolls to the side, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. his hands are reaching out for you, desperate to feel the buck of your body as you take his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever fucking do.

his lips part, brows screwing together. “like that… fuck me like that.”

“like this?” you hum, a teasing lilt in your voice.

he nods dumbly, mouth gaping while a fleeting breath escapes him. big, greedy hands wander your body—smoothing over the fat of your ass, trailing up the sides of your waist, dragging over those pretty, sensitive nipples. his palms are even creeping beneath the depraved arch of your back and forcing you deeper.

“m’gonna cummm,” it’s a whiny little breath, lips twisting while his face contorts in overwhelming pleasure. “c-can’t hold it, fuck you’re gonna make me cum.”

“inside.”

“huh?”

“please?” you breathe, rolling your hips once. “cum with me.”

a beat passes and his hips stutter, cock twitching inside of you. he doesn’t even question you, instead he’s reaching a hand between your searing bodies to circle your aching clit with the warm pads of his fingers, encouraging your looming orgasm. satoru exhales a nasty moan when your hips buck harder, your pretty pussy tightening around him in desperation.

“cum with me.” you whisper again, pulling his lips between yours in a messy kiss.

and he does, immediately. he’s filling you up with sloppy thrusts, whining into your mouth like the prettiest, most disciplined boy. your wet, aching pussy throbs around all of his warm cum as he messily empties himself inside of you. sinful strings of arousal stretch between your sexes as satoru nurses you through your own orgasm, inadvertently fucking his seed deeper.

as you cum around him, your bountiful arousal spills all over his swollen balls, eventually dribbling down far enough to ruin the silken sheets beneath him. his chest heaves, hips bucking shallowly in efforts to chase his cum as it dribbles from the seams of your pretty, overstuffed pussy.

“baby, i wanna cum again… think i can get it deeper this time.”

[kitteninabunker]

" lucky charm ! "

contains— female reader, spit, creampie, multiple orgasms (reader), sixsome, full nelson, double penetration, oral sex (m & f receive), anal, unprotected, toji calls a girl a bitch, toji being soft, mlm scene between geto & gojo, reader masturbates, mind breaking, nanami cameo, reader has a belly piercing, no penetration from geto this time

a/n— since u guys and i personally love dork!reader x jjk football team, i decided to write another one! prequel here you'll probably have to read that one first for this to make sense, also do not come for me because i have no clue about what goes on during football >.< this is also kinda rushed, let me specify that this is a college au too

word count— 9.1k… i apologize in advance

the whole football team is truly convinced that dork!reader is their "good luck charm."

ever since that night, when they all took turns with you in the locker room, fucking you until you were a babbling mess, they haven't lost a single game since. and now, with tonight being the night of the championship, and the team's reputation on the line, they aren't taking any chances.

it started out small, toji letting you wear his football jersey to cover up after they tore your outfit to pieces, the oversized fabric swallowing you up as he smirked at the sight. gojo carrying you on his shoulders, letting you wear his football helmet and laughing each time it fell over your eyes with any little movement you made, and geto sneaking you into games for free, so you can be in the stands, cheering for your favorite boys. they loved it, loved knowing their favorite girl was always there, watching, supporting them, belonging to them in a way nobody else could.

oh, and as for their girlfriends? well, the way you were just a bit too loud for their boyfriends whenever they scored a point earned you more than a few nasty looks, not that you cared. they definitely notice you, the way you're always at the football games, always getting their boyfriend’s attention, and they hated it. not because they actually love their boyfriends, but because the idea of some dorky girl stealing their spotlight was unbearable. the truth is, you are pretty, just as much as they are, and worthy of attention. but you're shy, kept your head in a book. it took a hit on your social life, sure, but that didn’t matter. because their boyfriends‘ didn’t seem to mind at all.

the stadium lights burn brightly against the dark sky, a sharp contrast to the biting cold air that nips at your bare legs. the crowd buzzes with excitement, fans bundled up in thick jackets and scarves, but here you are, shivering in your too-short miniskirt and your cropped top, stubbornly refusing to cover up. you'd spent so much time getting ready, doing your makeup, making sure you looked cute for them, and now, standing at the edge of the field, you wonder if you should've picked something less revealing. but it's too late for second guessing, especially when you hear a familiar voice call out—

"there's our girl."

warm hands settle on your shoulder as geto leans in, his lips brush against your temple before he moves over in front of you. the others aren't far behind—toji, sukuna, gojo, and choso—following closely behind, surrounding you with their broad, towering frames. their presence is overwhelming in the best way. "tryin' to look extra pretty for us tonight, huh?" geto murmurs, his thumb wiping off some of the smudged gloss at the corner of your lips with his free hand, he's clutching his football helmet tightly in the other. it's true, you wanted to look pretty for the guys today, glossy lips, cute little outfit, your hair worn down instead of pulled back into your usual ponytail, but with the weather being practically freezing since the sun isn't out anymore, you look silly in your white miniskirt, to anyone that isn't gonna fuck you, anyways, that barely reaches where your thigh and ass meet. but when you catch the way they're all looking at you, as if you're the only thing worth staring at, drooling like starving dogs, it felt worth it.

still, a tiny feeling of self-consciousness bites at you. should you have worn a different outfit? something that wouldn't draw so much attention to you? wouldn't make you feel so aware of yourself? “o-oh, do i offend?” you innocently ask, raking through your hair with your fingers and smoothing down the back of your skirt. "you wouldn't let us go into the biggest game of the season without a little extra luck, would you?" geto asks, mock sadness in his voice as he pouts. you fidget with the ends of your hair, dropping your head to stare down at your shoes on the dark green grass only to notice just how much bigger the guys are than you as they stand around. "don't go all shy on us, y/n." toji chuckles from beside geto, his hand finds your chin as he places a gentle finger beneath it and tilts your head up so you're looking right at him. his gaze holds nothing but affection, and it makes the heat burning your face and the tips of your ears worse.

he's close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne and sweat on him, his jersey clinging to his broad shoulders. the soft warmth in his gaze makes your stomach twist, and suddenly, you feel too seen, too small in the midst of them. gojo chuckles from beside toji, arms crossed over his chest as he leans in, eyes scanning over you in a way that makes your stomach flip. “what’s with the face, princess?” he teases. “you were all confident a second ago."

your fingers twitch, and you can't stop your hand from moving to your face as you slip your glasses off, tucking them away as the insecurities settle in. maybe you'd look better without them—prettier, like the girls they're usually seen with. but the moment your glasses come off, your vision becomes hazy. toji's handsome features you were just staring at go blurry. you can feel your eyes crossing and you blink, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help. before you can fumble for them, sukuna, who’d been watching with a smirk, walks over and plucks your glasses from your hands with an amused scoff. "nice try, sweetheart." he mutters, carefully sliding your glasses back onto your face again, adjusting them.

the moment your vision clears and your eyes go back into focus, choso whistles lowly from his spot beside sukuna. "much better," he coos, ruffling your flat-ironed hair before tilting his head with a dramatic sigh. you open your mouth to protest, you'd rather sacrifice your sight if that meant knowing you looked good, but gojo beats you to it, his usual grin stretching wide as he leans in. "honestly, i dunno why you even tried that, you’re already gorgeous.” he says, “don’t hide this pretty face from us."

heat sizzles on your cheeks, but before you can process gojo's words, sukuna swoops in and wraps his muscular arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him until your chest is pressed against his abs. “m’ so happy our girl came to see us.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed against each other as the tip of your noses touch. you smile up at him, cupping his face with your hands. "alright, alright, that's enough." you hear toji say as he and the rest of the guys crowd around you two, toji makes the first move, leaning in as he starts kissing your cheek, gojo nuzzles his nose against your neck before latching his lips onto your skin, geto stands behind you as his large hands explore your waist, choso presses soft, lazy pecks along your shoulder, while sukuna smirks and tilts your chin up, stealing a quick kiss right from your lips.

you feel your heart skip a few beats as you pull back from sukuna's lips, his eyes locked onto your flushed face as he stands straight up, allowing everyone to get a good look at you. "look at 'er." toji drawls, his voice laced with amusement. "all dolled up, looking cute as hell." his green eyes drag down your body, lingering just long enough on your smooth thighs and the hem of your miniskirt to make your thighs press together. "almost too good to be true."

sukuna huffs a low laugh beside him, reaching down to toy with the edge of your skirt. "you wore this thing just for us, baby?"

"mhm!" you proudly declare, nodding your head and lightly pinching the fabric of your skirt. your lips tighten in an upside-down smile, you twirl a lock of your hair around your finger and slightly sway. even though you're shy, you crave this kind of attention. and just like that, the insecurity gnawing at you starts to fade. maybe you don't fit in with the cheerleaders, maybe you aren't as loud, as confident, as perfect as they are, but these guys don't seem to mind. in fact, they love it.

"you cold, y/n?" toji's smug expression fades into something softer, pure concern in his voice. his brows knit together as he shrugs off his jersey, pulling it over your head without waiting for an answer, the fabric heavy and warm as it falls past your knees. "there, don't get sick trying to be cute. you already are."

sukuna smacks his lips, watching toji with an amused look. "man, look at you," he drawls, shaking his head. "all soft for her like some lovesick puppy." gojo snickers, elbowing sukuna. "never thought i'd see the day when the big bad toji fushiguro gives up his jersey and his dignity in one move." toji grunts, adjusting the jersey on you like he didn't hear them. "shut up." his hand lingers on your shoulder, tugging the fabric into place, and yeah, they all see it.

"aww, she's blushing." choso calls out, smiling and patting your shoulder.

before you could respond, a sharp, piercing whistle cuts through the air. "enough." coach nanami's voice is flat, unimpressed as he walks up to the huddle with his arms crossed. his usual stern expression is set in place, brows furrowed as he glares at the group. "get your asses in gear. now." the guys groan, shaking their heads as they start to ready themselves for the game. geto sighs dramatically, stepping back. "guess we'll have to pick this up later."

"but don't go anywhere." choso gives you a pointed look, his fingers briefly squeeze your wrist before he lets go. "we wanna hear you cheering for us."

gojo smirks, reaching out to tap your chin. "loud and clear, yeah?"

"yeah," you breathe, barely registering your own voice.

you watch the three of them take off towards the middle of the field, but before sukuna follows, he quickly crouches down until his lips are at your ear. "cheer the loudest for me." his voice a raspy whisper, then he's gone, running after the others, leaving you grinning to yourself. you turn your attention back towards toji who's already staring at you. "aren't you gonna go?" you ask, nodding your head towards the field. "yeah, yeah.” he mutters, but makes no effort to leave. instead, he lets his gaze sweep over you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “just let me admire you a little longer. you’re so damn cute wearing my jersey.”

before you can even think of a response, nanami's sharp voice cuts through the moment.

“fushiguro!”

you whip around to see coach nanami, arms crossed, his sharp eyes snapping over at you in toji’s oversized jersey. “what the hell is she doing with that on?!?!”

toji sighs, dragging a hand down his face before stepping back, but not before he tugs the fabric into place, making sure you're covered properly against the cold air. "relax, coach,“ he drawls, already jogging off toward the locker room. “i’ll grab another one.”

coach nanami exhales hard, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. his clipboard slips from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "dealing with college boys is a fucking nightmare."

he mutters something under his breath again as he bends to grab his clipboard, shaking his head like he's this close to losing it. but you barely notice it, your focus lingers on toji's retreating form, the warmth of his jersey still heavy on your body. it smells like him too, like worn leather, faded cologne, and a hint of sweat, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in it.

"you're unbelievable," coach nanami sighs, dragging you out of your thoughts.

"what?" you blink up at him with giant eyes thanks to your lenses, feigning innocence.

his tired gaze flicks between you and the team warming up on the field, then back to you, deadpan.

"just... stay out of trouble," he mutters, turning on his heel.

the stands are already packed with students, alumni, parents who think their kids are going to make it to the NFL, and locals all gathered for the championship game. the energy is buzzing. you should be focusing on that, but instead, your attention shifts to the sidelines, to them.

sukuna is the first to notice you watching, he smirks, throwing you a wink before rolling his shoulders like he's showing off. you watch how the muscles in his tattooed arms flex, and it gives you a shameful heat between your legs. geto catches on next, and even from this distance, you can see the teasing glints in his eyes. gojo, of course, takes it a step further, making a big show of blowing you a kiss. choso's stretching on the field, his eyes locked onto your figure with intense concentration.

you step onto the bleachers, slowly and quietly walking to an open spot with your cherry slushie and ketchup and mustard covered hotdog from the concession stand—your favorite. as you walk, you notice how the sound of conversation starts to die down, not all at once, but as if everyone you walked by went silent, finding staring at you to be a lot more interesting than whatever they were talking about. you keep your head down, pretending not to notice, but you can feel it. the weight of everyone's eyes on you, the murmurs passed between groups.

by the time you take a seat on the silver bleacher, it's clear, the excitement of the game or the players making their entrance, none of that is what gets people talking.

it's you.

wrapped in toji's jersey, oversized and undeniably his.

"wait, isn't that toji's?"

"yeah... why does she have it?"

"does she know him like that?"

you hear the whispers behind you, feel the stares burning into your back, some confused, some sharp with irritation. your stomach twists, a knot tightening deep in your gut as you clutch the jersey in your fist, gripping the fabric like it might somehow shield you from their scrutiny. you shift your weight, fighting the urge to shrink into yourself and disappear into the crowd. you nervously take a bite of your hotdog even though the energy you feel around you just killed your appetite.

cowering away isn't an option anymore, the cheerleaders have already seen you. and judging by the way some of them are glaring, they're not glad to see you. one of them makes a sharp scoff you can hear since your standing behind her on the bleachers, and it makes your heart sink. their boyfriends are the stars of the show, they should be the ones getting all the attention, but here you are. tucked away in an oversized jersey, the one that belongs to another girl's man, stealing glances and soft smiles that belonged to them. you don't miss the way they're eyeing you, how their perfectly manicured fingers tighten around their pom-poms, how their lips curl slightly.

"god, she's always here," one of them mutters to another under her breath, but it's loud enough for you to hear.

"it's pathetic," another sneers. "she's not even that pretty."

you swallow hard, fingers twitching at the hem of the jersey.

you knew this was coming, they've never liked you. always had something to say about how you looked, what you wore. they picked you apart about everything, and this moment brings you back to memories you'd rather forget. the worst part is, they aren't wrong. you aren't like them. you aren't a cheerleader. you don't have perfectly styled hair or expensive clothes, or the confidence to walk across campus like you own the place. you're just... you.

"focus!" coach nanami barks at the team, blowing his whistle. "game starts in five!"

you squeeze the jersey tighter in your fist, finger's twisting into the heavy fabric. okay, maybe this whole thing was a mistake. maybe you should've stayed home, watched the game from your dorm, spared yourself the humiliation—

"oi."

your head snaps up at the sound of a voice, deep and rough, cutting right through the chatter. the whispers die down almost instantly, and suddenly toji is right there. standing in his newer jersey he ran off to retrieve.

he's not looking at the crowd, not sparing the cheerleaders a glance, not paying attention to anyone except you.

"toji?" you ask, craning your head up as he reaches out, his rough fingers grazing your thigh as he tugs at the hem of his jersey. he's making sure it's still snug on your body and doing its job to keep you warm. "aren't you gonna go play?"

"yeah, i am." he mutters, but his eyes don't leave your face. his jaw tightens, turning his head to the side just for a second before he scoffs. "just didn't like the way those bitches are ogling at you." it takes you a moment to realize who he's talking about, so you shift slightly, leaning past toji's broad frame, and sure enough—you see the cheerleaders. their glossy lips are curled into little sneers, arms crossed, their eyes locked onto the two of you like they're barely restraining themselves from marching over. yeah, the loser nobody hangs out with gets to wear a football player's jersey, so what? you want it to be a silent flex that you took their man. but the practical part of you takes over, and you quickly duck back behind toji. your fingers curls around his sleeve as you press yourself against his chest.

"that's cute," he huffs out a laugh as he feels the top of your head on his abs, shaking his head. "you gonna hide beneath me all night?"

"no..." you, admittedly, felt safe hiding beneath him, as if he were a shield for everyone's current awkward staring.

"wait... are they actually—"

"what? since when?"

toji smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing, he wants them to see. "there," he murmurs, giving the fabric one last tug before letting it go. you blink up at him, lips parted, unsure of what to even say. he just grins, reaching out to ruffle your hair before turning back toward the field.

"don't move," he calls over his shoulder, voice teasing as he jogs to join the rest of the team. "gotta win this game for our girl, yeah?"

you've been holding your breath the entire time.

watching as toji plows through the defenders, and sukuna stiff-arming a smaller player on the opposing team so hard he hits the ground. "too slow, dumbass." he sneers before launching the ball across the field to geto, who catches it effortlessly, barely breaking his stride. choso is calm, his eyes narrowed as he watches the other players. the moment he sees geto launch the ball into the air towards him, he sprints. weaving through the players with percussion and catching it before tossing the ball to gojo.

you can't look.

the pressure it too much, the pounding of your heart against you ribcage is deafening in your own ears as you swallow thickly and squeeze your eyes shut.

then—

the stadium buzzer blares, the announcer screaming into the microphone, "TOUCHDOWN SCORED BY GOJO SATORU!"

they won... your boys won!

the stadium erupts, a deafening mix of cheers and screams shaking in the air as everyone jumps up, hugging and celebrating. on the field, the players swarm each other, a chaotic mix of bodies clashing victory. you catch a glimpse of the opposing team, some shaking their heads, others already trudging off the field in defeat. their coach looks like he's about to lose his mind, throwing whatever was in his hands to the ground before gripping his hair in frustration.

"yes!" you cheer, arms flying up as you beam at the celebration around you. the energy is overwhelming, everyone’s screams ringing in your ears. without thinking, you immediately rush down from the stands and onto the field. to no surpise, gojo is already rushing towards you. your feet barely hit the ground before he grabs you first by your waist, lifting you up effortlessly. "did you see that?! we won!" he laughs, spinning you around.

"i saw!" you giggle, clinging onto his shoulders. the second he sets you back on the ground, sukuna swiftly grabs you next, pulling you into his chest as he smirks against your ear. "cheered the loudest for me, huh? knew you would, sweetheart." his usual smugness is dripping from his voice.

"delusional," geto scoffs, pushing sukuna aside as he wraps his arms around you, hugging your head and inhaling the scent of your strawberry scented shampoo that still lingers in your hair. "i knew you wouldn't let us lose."

choso pulls you in next, his arms are tight but warm as he lays his head on the top of yours, murmuring a quiet, "our good luck charm."

you don't spot toji anywhere as you turn your head to scan the field, then he appears right behind you, tugging you out of geto's grip and spinning you around to look at him.

he's soaked in sweat and breathing hard, but his grin is wide and all for you. he hugs your waist tightly, "we won, baby." his voice is low, warm.

"i know, congratulations!" you breathe, grinning so hard your cheeks ache.

"don't congratulate us, sweet thing." gojo says, playing with a strand of your hair. "we owe it all to you."

"and you looked so damn cute watching us do it." toji adds, his hand squeezing your waist

before you can even roll your eyes, he yanks you up off of your feet. you gasp, legs dangling as his lips crash against yours.

the kiss makes your head full fuzzy, heat and hunger forming in your core. toji's hands are gripping your waist like he can't stand the thought of letting you go. your fingers twist into his jersey—well, his other jersey since you're still swaddled in his old one.

you forget about those lingering stares, the whispered remarks, the cheerleaders who looked at you like they wanted to murder you, the jealous glances thrown your way. the world around you slowly seems to go silent, no crowd, you judgment, nothing—just you and your boys.

"hey, don't hog her, old man," sukuna grunts, yanking you from toji's arms and into his own. his sharp grin is wicked, his hands wandering down to your plump ass and he gives it a rough squeeze,

“sukuna!" you yelp, giggling.

"sukuna," choso warns, but the way his grip on your wrist tightens betrays him too, doesn't want to let you go.

"what? can't help it." sukuna shrugs, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of toji's jersey draped over you, flipping it over your skirt as the cold air kisses your exposed skin. sukuna sharply inhales your scent, hugging you close as his whispering voice sends a sharp jolt through you. "not my fault she's so sexy."

your breath catches, but the guys don't miss it. they never do.

"getting shy, sweetheart?" geto teases, stepping behind you. "you were so confident screaming for us just a second ago."

"s'not fair," you mumble, suddenly aware of the way they're all looking at you with hungry stares. the boys who just won the biggest game of the season and only want one thing to celebrate groping you in front of everyone.

"no?" gojo tilts his head with faux innocence, "then what is fair? 'cause i think we deserve a proper reward, don't you?"

“alright, that’s enough of this,” toji grunts, he hauls you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. "let's show her what we really want."

“toji—?!” you squeak, your hands immediately gripping the back of his jersey as you lift your head, turning it to look at him.

“relax, sweetheart,” he says, giving your ass a playful smack that makes you jolt and kick your leg. “time for the real celebration.”

the others don’t even question it, if anything, they’re laughing, trailing closely behind as toji strides off the field with you in tow. you were always meant to end up like this, a girl in her skimpy little outfit being carried like a sack of potatoes on a man's shoulder.

“what makes you special enough to have her all to yourself?” choso huffs, his jaw ticking as his dark eyes lock onto yours. he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. with that, you remember how his cock felt in your mouth, the weight of him on your tongue, the warmth of his cock stretching your mouth, the way he groaned when you took him deeper. heat floods your face, your breath hitching at the memory. you swallows hard and immediately advert your gaze which makes him chuckle.

“well, she is wearing my jersey.” toji smirks, gripping your asscheek again as you wiggle in his hold. you feel his arm tightening over you, “keep squirming, and we’ll handle you right here.” he warns, his voice is smooth but you don’t miss the promise.

that shuts you up, you slap your hands over your face even though you wouldn’t mind if they took you right here, on the field for everyone to see.

you turn your head back around just in time to watch the last of the crowd start to clear out—parents, students, faculty leaving the stands and off the field until it’s quiet, until it’s just you and them. the atmosphere is still heavy with the buzz of the win, but none of that matters now. it’s just you and your boys alone on the field, their footsteps are slow behind toji, trailing you both across the field and toward the locker room doors. you can feel their eyes burning into your body. winning the championship wasn’t enough for them, toji’s carrying the real prize on his shoulder right now, anyways.

you know exactly how this night is gonna end.

toji carries you inside of the locker room, arms snug over your lower back. the humid air thick with sweat, musk, and testosterone floods your senses, dragging you back in time. “can you take dick, pretty girl?” your breath catches in your throat as your brain goes back to the first time you were ever here, pressed against sukuna’s muscular body, clawing at his broad shoulders and struggling to hold yourself together as you got your guts rearranged and pounded. your thighs press together as the throbbing between your legs returns, your chest rises and falls too fast, fingers tangling in toji's jersey.

“you’re quiet all of a sudden,” gojo murmurs behind him, looking at you. “what’s wrong?”

you look up at him, head titled slightly with your lips caught between your teeth.

sukuna leans in close, his grin sharp. “she remembers," he clicks his tongue. "don’t you, baby?"

of course you do. how could you forget? it was your first time getting fucked, your first time getting your poor virgin cunt stretched open by huge athletic dick and they didn't even bother to go easy on you. you remember the way you sobbed, begging for the break you never got.

how could they forget?

“she’s getting all shy,” geto teases, reaching out to brush his knuckles down your arm as you cling onto toji’s back.

“actin' like we haven’t seen every inch of this pretty body,” toji chuckles, squeezing a greedy handful of your ass as he shifts his hold, cradling you in his arms bridal style before he lowers you down so you can sit on the bench.

you sit in front of them, shrinking beneath their gazes, surrounded. everywhere you look is a tall, horny body that's already had you and wants you again. deja vu settles into you as you swallow thickly, looking up and giving them doe eyes.

choso steps forward, fingers curling around your waist, thumbs pressing lightly into your hips. he bends to your height, his dark eyes stare into yours as he tilts his head with a soft expression. “do you remember how it felt?” he whispers, voice ghosting over your lips. “right here, on this bench? you were shaking so bad.”

your eyes soften as you nod, slow and shy, lips parting just slightly.

"aww," gojo coos, grinning at you as he crouches beside you. "she's nervous. you're not scared of us now, are you?"

"i'm not," you whisper, voice small.

you say you aren't nervous, aren't nervous for another around of five dicks taking you again, that sounds amazing in your mind, in fact, but your body language gives you away. your fingers twist at the hem of toji's jersey, and your breath stutters when choso's hand grazes your shoulder, his palm warm against your skin.

“she’s remembering how good i felt inside of ‘er,” sukuna chimes, his voice dark with amusement as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. “bet her cute little pussy’s already making a mess in those panties.”

“i think she liked it too much last time,” geto hums. his fingers slip beneath jersey, dipping into the waistband of your skirt, he tugs the fabric off of your belly gently, letting it snap back against your skin. “look at her squirm.” you gasp slightly, feeling geto’s fingertips trace patterns across your stomach.

toji’s hand returns to your thigh as he takes a seat on the bench next you, thumb drawing lazy, possessive circles just beside the edge of your panties. “still so soft,” he mumbles. “you want it again, don’t you?” he’s looking at you, green eyes trailing over your features. “you wanna feel our dicks streching every opening you have out?”

truth is, you’re not shy because they’ve fucked you before. you’re wondering if they’re noticing the acne dotting your cheeks, if they think your braces make you look juvenile, if your glasses—those stupid, ridiculously thick things—make your eyes look comically big. you glance away, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“hey,” toji murmurs, voice dipping low as his hand catches your chin, turning your face gently back to him. “don’t hide. you look so fucking cute like this.”

you glance over at him, lips parted and your breaths shallow. there’s no hiding it right now, they read you an open book. the heat in your chest spreads all the way to your core. a smile curls across your face, right now you’re just a shy, but eager thing. “yeah,” you breathe. “i do.”

“see? there’s our smile.” toji grins down at you, pinching your cheek playfully before standing upright and steppiing back. “hmm,” sukuna hums, already stalking closer. “you’re still wearing too many clothes.” his fingers tug at the hem of the oversized jersey still draped over your body, his jaw ticks, eyes narrowed. “you should be wearing mine.” he mutters beneath his breath, a smug look curling his lips.

“strip.”

the single word cuts though the air. you immediately snap your head up at sukuna as his words cut through the air. your heart skips beats as your lips part. you blink, pulse thudding in your own ears. they—they want you to take your clothes off? right here, in front of them? by yourself? you hesitate for a bit, and the air around you grows hot and still, five sets of eyes are locked in you now, and they all look like they’re about to pounce on you.

“uhmmm,” you scratch your head, blinking. “you… want me to get naked?”

“duh.” geto says, smirking as he crosses his arm. “you’ve got two hands for a reason.”

the others chuckle lowly, the kind of laugh that sends heat crawling up your neck. your eyes flick between each of them, choso watches you with that quiet, shy, pink-colored blush across his cheeks, he’s patient. toji leans back with a knowing smirk, like he’s already seen this play out in his head. sukuna looks like he’s gonna tear those damn clothes off of you himself, his jaw tight. gojo’s gaze is steady and unreadable, but you know he’s growing impatient as well. and geto? he’s already palming his heavy, budging cock through his uniform, shameless and nearly shaking with arousal.

“hm, okay!” your fingers curl beneath the hem jersey as you pull it over your head, gently placing on the bench behind you. you pull your shoes off then your socks, leaving you in nothing but your crop top and your miniskirt. the cool air in the room brushes your exposed skin, hardening your nipples beneath your shirt. you slowly begin to lift your top, rolling the fabric up inch by inch, reaching the soft swells of your breast. their gazes don’t waver, if anything, they darken. then comes your skirt, you hook your thumbs under the waistband, shimmying down your hips, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. now, you’re standing before them in nothing but your magenta thong.

“fuck,” toji exhales, his eyes darkening as he looks you over. “you look even better than i remember.”

they can see the outline of your cunt, the thin strip of your soaked thong barely covering anything. the shiny jewelry in your belly button catches the light, drawing attention to how it glistens so perfectly against your skin. choso silently moves toward you, gently spinning you around until your back rests against his chest. he leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. you follow suit as you move your arm to cup his face with your hand. his palms glide over the soft curve of your belly, squeezing your waist before one hand snakes down past the band of your panties.

you gasp into choso's mouth as your tongue laps around with his, his fingers sliding between your slick folds. you feel their hands all over your body, tracing your hips, brushing your arms, tugging the thin band on your panties that could easily rip. the way you feel so open, right there and available makes you hornier than ever. gojo's in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed his bulge onto your barely cunt through your thin lace thong. your eyes fly open as you feel it, the pulse right beneath you and begging to feel your warm walls gushing around it when you cum. someone's lips are on your neck, their teeth gently scraping your skin. you can tell it's geto's breath brushing against the shell of your ear, his hands palming your soft, plump sss as his fingers curl into the plush of it.

choso pulls back from the kiss, a line of spit connects your lips to his as he stares down at you. "you gonna be good for us, pretty girl?" he huffs, catching his breath after kissing you. "bet that mouth of yours could make us all see starts." before you can even answer, gojo presses his twitching cock through his uniform harder against your wet cunt, feeling your juices start to leak out and seep through the fabrics. "you remember how good we made you feel last time, hm? how sweet you sounded with your mouth full?" he laughs softly as he feels you tremble, pressing a kiss on the side of your face.

choso slides his hand along your waist, eyes soft but dark with lust. "you can handle us," he murmurs. "we'll go slow. or not." his fingers hook beneath the band of your panties as he tugs them down until they pool around your ankles, leaving your cunt exposed for all of them to see. he picks you up, carrying you back to the bench, your back pressed against his back. "spread it, show everyone how much you want it." he whispers into your ear. you spread your puffy cunt apart, showing off your glistening pink insides. "like this?" choso keeps your legs up by locking his arms around the back of your knees, making sure you're absolutely on display and vulnerable.

"fuck, she looks so delicious and innocent." you hear someone murmur. you watch toji crouch down between your legs, licking his lips and staring at your leaking cunt. "been thinking about how sweet this pussy tastes since last time. "aaah!" a whimper slips out of your mouth as he lowers his head and licks a long stripe up your slit. the moan that rips from your mouth is cut short, because sukuna grabs your jaw and turns your head towards him.

"you're not getting off that easy, open up and let me feed you this dick." he doesn't wait for you to nod, his twitching cock is already thick and heavy in his hand as he pressed it against your lip. "and don't use your teeth, we can't have those braces getting in the way, can we?" your body jolts as toji's tongue flicks against your clit, hot and relentless, and you part your lips on instinct, letting sukuna slide past your tongue. the stretch burns, but you moan around him anyway.

"that's it," sukuna growls, one hand tangled in your hair and the other cradling your jaw as he starts to fuck your mouth slowly. "fucking perfect." toji groans between your legs, fingers spreading you wider as he licks you open. "she's dripping," he growls. "tastes like she's been waiting for this."

above you, gojo chuckles, cock already out and twitching in his hand. your lips are stretch around sukuna's dick gojo grabs your hand and sticks his cock inside, you instinctively stoke it as gojo reaches down to your cunt to gather your slick and spread it all around his shaft. your hips twitch against toji's face, trying to grind down and he answers with a rough suck to your clit that makes you moan around sukuna's dick as he grabs a handful of hair from the back of your head and forces your head against his pelvis.

"she's close," choso says as he watches, feeling your body jerk against him as he moves one of his hands to play with your boob. and that's when you feel another tongue making laps around your clit alongside toji's. your eyes fly open as you pull sukuna's cock out of your mouth to watch geto and toji licking your pussy like it's the best thing they've ever tasted.

"guys—aaah!" you whimper, grinding harder against both of their faces and you feel it, you feel yourself squirt as the move move to watch it. "good girl!" toji praises as him and geto lap up your juices, geto moves a bit lower to clean up the mess you just made that's leaking down into your tightest hole. your jaw aches, throat raw from taking sukuna so deep, and your arm burns from how tightly you're stroking gojo, but you don't stop. you can't stop. not when toji and geto are making you see stars with their tongues, their mouths warm and wet, taking turns sucking and licking until your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

and through it all, choso keeps you steady in his lap, hands soft on your tits, fingers rubbing your nipples until they're painfully hard and sensitive.he's murmuring against your temple, saying things you can barely hear over the moaning and slick sounds around you.

then, slowly, the touches start to fade.

toji pulls back from between your legs first, his mouth wet with your slick. "look at you," he pants. "fucking wrecked already." you whimper as geto presses one last kiss on your clit before rising to his feet, eyes dark and hungry. gojo huffs a soft laugh, grabbing your chin and making you look at all of them standing over you now.

"who's taking her first?" sukuna grunts, still stroking his cock lazily in his hand. "she's soaked."

"i'll do it," toji says without hesitation, already peeling off his clothes, his cock thick and hard as it bounces free. "i need to feel that tight little pussy gushing around my cock." choso eases you off his lap and helps you lie back on the bench, legs still trembling and glistening. your limbs feel like jello, but you arch your back on all fours, aching for more.

toji steps between your legs, his hands rough as they grab your hips and drag you toward the edge. he spreads you open with his thumbs, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. "still so fucking wet," he mutters. "you want me to stretch you out, baby?"

you nod helplessly, tongue still thick from sukuna's cock. your voice comes out soft and ruined. "yes... please." you arch your back deeper snd sway your ass, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing and begging to be filled up to the brim. you look back at toji with glossy eyes as your cheek is pressed against the bench

toji holds the base of his thick cock, dragging his fat mushroom tip between your slick folds as it bumps your clit with makes you mewl. "mmmph, p-put it in already!" you softly beg, which makes the guys chuckle. "she's so cock drunk already, dumb little whore." gojo teases. toji lines himself up and pushes inside, slow at first-but he's big, and you feel the burning stretch all the way to your lungs. your back arches with a cry ripping from your throat.

"fuck, she's tight," toji groans, hands bruising on your hips as he starts to thrust, steady and deep. you feel his tip pushing so far inside of you, poking your gut as you wrap your arm around you belly, feeling the shape of his dick bulging through you. he lands a glob of spit onto your asshole, rubbing it around your little hole with the pad of his thumb as he starts to slowly slip it inside.

the others circle around, watching, stroking themselves, eyes locked on where tojl's cock disappears into your soaked cunt over and over and dragging out covered in a thick sheet of your slick. "look at how she's gripping him," gojo murmurs, his hand sliding down your throat, thumb resting just under your jaw. "bet she's gonna cum just from getting filled."

"won't last long," sukuna smirks, fisting his cock. "not when she's clenching like that."

toji grins down at you, sweat dripping from his brow. he watches as a white ring of your arousal bubbles at his shaft, his cock starts to leak precum which makes it easier from him to slip in and out of you faster as he picks the up the pace. your plush ass jiggles against his abdomen as he yanks your free arm behind your back. "you gonna cum for me first, sweetheart? show them how good i fuck you?"

your body answers before you can. the orgasm tears through you suddenly, violently, your legs kicking, cunt pulsing around toji's cock as he growls and fucks you through it. you're barely holding on, legs trembling, body slick with sweat and spit and cum. tojl's still panting above you, cock twitching as he pulls out and lets your pussy drip down onto the bench, but not before he buries himself until his red tip is flush against your cervix, releasing his own load of hot, stick cum as it squirts out in thick ropes. he licks his lips as he looks at your raw, pink hole—all stretched open and used :( you think maybe they'll let you rest, after they all watched you get fucked like that, there’s only so much a girl can take.

they don't.

"you didn't think we were done, did you?" sukuna laughs, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over like you weigh nothing. you squeal, dizzy, arms trembling as you brace yourself on all fours. choso is already lying back on the bench, thick cock standing straight up between his legs. "come here, baby," he murmurs, pulling you toward him. you straddle him instinctively, thighs trembling as you lower yourself onto his length, your cunt already dripping and eager as his tip starts to split your entrance open. he groans, head tipping back with his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady. "fuck—just like that."

sukuna's behind you again, his cock resting heavy between your cheeks, "hold her open," he barks, choso's hands slide to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and holding you open wide for sukuna's gaze. your breath catches. "you ready to take both?" choso groans, lining himself up beneath your drooling pussy while sukuna's cock rests against your tight, untouched hole. he spits, the filthy sound echoing in the locker room as lands on your hole. sukuna rubs the head of his against your rim, letting his precum smear around your hole with the spit. "she's shaking." choso breathes, looking up at with, concerned tangled with lust.

"she can take it," sukuna grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "she's our little toy, remember?" you breath catches, then turns into a scream as sukuna pushes histhe first stretch making your whole body tense. choso pushes into your soaked cunt at the same time sukuna starts to press into your ass, both of them groaning low as they stuff you full from both ends. it hurts-it burns-but it's so much, too much, and your body starts to melt into it.

"fuck, she's tight," choso hisses. "gripping me like she was made for this." sukuna moans against your back, lips brushing your spine. "she's squeezing me too," he pants. "she's fucking perfect." their thrusts start slow but get brutal fast. they pound into you like they're competing, their cocks dragging over every sensitive spot until you're screaming, drooling, babbling nonsense. you feel like you're going to break apart. choso’s hand slide to your hips to give your movement, “you’re taking us so well…” he whispers.

gojo's in front of you again, stroking his cock lazily. "look at her," he laughs. "fucked so dumb she doesn't even know what hole is getting filled."he grabs your face, slaps your cheek lightly, and taps his cock against your lips. “open up, baby.” you do, instantly, and he slides it into your mouth. you moan around him as sukuna slams into your ass and choso drives his cock deeper into your dripping cunt from beneath you. drool drips down your chin as he gojo feeds his fat cock to you. "good girl," he breathes, both hands holding your head steady as he starts to fuck your throat. "that's it. choke on it."

your body jolts with every thrust, stuffed to the brim, brain melted into nothing but desperate moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. you're just a hole for them now, for everyone, used and filled. behind you, sukuna bites into your shoulder and growls through his teeth. his thrust grown sloppier as he chases his high, you feel both of their cocks throbbing in both of your holes and your body jerks from the force of it. choso’s breath is hit against your chest, his moans muffled by your bouncing tits. the bench creaks under all of you. their bodies slapping into yours. then, they both cum at once, sukuna spilling into your ass, choso filling your pussy to the brim. as sukuna buries himself to the hilt in your ass and groans through his orgasm, choso bucks one last time into your soaked pussy and spills everything he has inside you. your body sags, twitching under the weight of it all-cum leaking from both holes, drool sliding from your lips.

you moan around gojo's cock as the hot rush of it floods you, leaking down your thighs instantly. a creamy mess of white oozes out from both your holes, slicking your thighs and pooling on the bench beneath you.

"fuck," sukuna hisses. "you're ruined."

"nah," choso murmurs, feeling his own cum start to force his cock to slip out of your pussy. "she's perfect."

"our perfect little cumdump," he breathes, reaching down to rub your clit with slow, lazy circles. "still twitching."

"and she's gonna take more," gojo growls, snapping his hips hard. "hold still." he groans as he slips is cock from your mouth, slapping it on your puffy lips before sukuna pulls out of your asshole, choso lifts your hips up as his own cum forces his cock to slip out.

you barely register the shift, feel strong arms hook under your knees, yanking you upright with shocking ease. your legs are bent, spread wide, and your arms are suddenly pinned up over your head, trapped behind gojo's neck as he locks you in place.

gojo groans, still fucking your cunt . he pulls out just long enough for geto to kneel between your legs, licking at your clit while gojo pushes into your pussy, still wet and dripping with choso's cum.

"full nelson, baby," gojo breathes against your ear, lips curling. "you ever been fucked like this?" his cock grinds between your slick folds, nudging your overstimulated clit. you can't respond, your voice is caught in your throat. your body bounces in his hold, tits jiggling, cunt clenching around him, already soaking wet and leaking down his shaft. he fucks up into you mercilessly, using you like a fleshlight while you whimper and twitch. "nah, didn't think so. let me show you how it feels to be completely helpless."

you can't even speak, then he trusts up into you, hard. your whole body jolts in his grip, helpless and suspended, your cunt stretched again and again as gojo fucked uo into you mercilessly. your tits brunch, spit and tears streak your face and your pussy drools around his cock, dripping everything choso left behind. "so full," gojo groans. "tight little hole milking me."

geto crouches in front of you, watching your ruined face with a hungry smile. "still drooling," he murmurs, before leaning in to suck your clit between his lips, his hand sliding up to cradle gojo's balls, massaging them gently. "fuck, look at her, gojo pants, snapping his lips harder. "can't even talk."

you can't. not when geto's tongue flicks your clit and gojo's cock hits that spot so perfect inside of you. "g-gojo! m' gonna cum..." geto crouches in front of you, watching your face twist with every thrust. "look how fucked out she is," he says, licking his lips. "still drooling." you look down at geto who's already looking up at you, making eye contact as you watch his tongue move so fast on your clit it's almost a pink blur.

he leans in closer, sucking your clit into his mouth with a rough pull that makes your eyes roll back. he doesn't stop there, his hand slides to cup gojo's balls, massaging them while gojo pounds you like he's trying to rearrange your guts. "still so fucking tight," gojo huffs, snapping his hips up hard. "you're gonna milk another load out of me, aren't you? greedy little thing."

your moan rips out of your throat as he lifts you higher, thighs trembling. his cock pushes in slow, stretching you open, making you feel every inch as he sinks into the mess choso left behind. you can't think. geto's tongue on your clit, gojo's cock pounding into your stuffed cunt, your body jerking from overstimulation and pleasure that borders on pain. "she's full," geto groans, tongue circling your clit while his hand reaches up to massage gojo's balls as they slap against your ass. your moans come in helpless little sobs, your body shaking as another orgasm crashes down on you.

"fuck, i'm close," gojo groans. "you feel that? gonna fill you up too, baby. you're gonna be dripping with all of us." gojo grunts as he buries himself deep and cums inside, warmth flooding you all over again, hips stuttering, and geto groans as he sucks at your clit until your whole body convulses. he laps up gojo's cum and your squirt as it leaks down his ballsack. gojo pulls out, putting you down and laying you back on the bench in the old cum.

when he finally lowers you down, your thighs are trembling, your holes leaking and fluttering.

they leave you there for a moment, gasping, twitching.

then toji grabs your chin and lifts your head. "show us."

you blink, dazed. "h-huh?"

"show us your pussy," gojo grins, sweat-slick and panting. "show us how messy you are."

they help you onto your back, spreading your thighs wide. you reach down with trembling hands, spreading your pussy lips apart to show them how absolutely ruined you are. thick, creamy cum leaking from your holes, glistening, sticky and shiny with sweat and spit.

your shaky fingers are still between your legs, holding yourself open, letting them stare at the mess they've made of you-every fold glistening with slick and cum, leaking down your thighs and soaking into the bench.

"don't close 'em," sukuna warns when your legs start to tremble. "keep it spread, slut. you wanted this, remember?"

you nod weakly, your face burning, throat too raw to speak.

"good girl," gojo grins, ruffling your hair like you're some dumb little pet. "now show us how much you love it. c'mon—play with that messy little pussy, make it nasty."

your breath hitches, but you obey. fingers dipping into the warmth leaking out of you, smearing it over your clit. your legs jerk instantly, the overstimulation sharp and brutal, but you keep rubbing slow, wet circles, cunt twitching as they all watch.

geto crouches beside you again, brushing a thumb down your cheek. "look at that," he murmurs.

"you're so ruined, and you're still getting off. are you proud of yourself, little cumrag?"

"say it," choso mutters, hand wrapping around his half-hard cock again. "tell us what you are."

"i'm-i'm your c-cumrag," you whimper, eyes filling with tears as you keep touching yourself. "just your-fuck—just your hole. i like it. i wanna be used. i wanna be filled-again—"

"she's close again," gojo says with a laugh. "what a filthy fucking girl."

you cry out, hips jerking as you rub yourself harder, the pressure bubbling too fast-your whole body shaking as another orgasm slams through you, muscles tensing so tight you nearly collapse.

"fuck, you're so cute when you break," sukuna huffs.

you go limp, breath ragged, your fingers still slick with their cum and your own.

then, finally, someone lifts you up.

"alright, you did good," choso says softly. "let's clean you up." he carries you into the showers as the others follow. you barely register it, too dazed to move on your own, but warm water starts to rush down your back. you're in the locker room shower, pressed to gojo's chest as he holds you upright while the others wash you off gently, soap slides over your sore body, rinsing away all the filth, but their touches linger-soft, teasing, affectionate.

"we'll get you dirty again soon," geto promises, brushing your hair back from your face with a kiss to your temple.

[tojbnuy]

husband!toji who means well but always ends up doing things a bit recklessly. toji lives for quickness and efficiency so he doesn’t care if it means he’s putting himself at risk, he’d rather get the job done quick. this is why asking toji to chop vegetables was something you didn’t often do. the man meant well, was always willing to do any jobs that meant your life would become easier, and plus he liked to show off his apparent knife skills. carrots and potatoes were now chopped but your husbands fingers had also been made to suffer.

‘Baby look at the state of you! you’ve got cuts on nearly every finger and even one on your arm.’

‘no big deal doll i can’t even feel them.’

okay maybe the sting was starting to accumulate but it was nothing he hadn’t felt before. and he liked to be doted on.

‘come on sit down i’ll get the cream and plasters.’

his hands were placed in your lap and you gently massaged in the ointment to his cuts then wrapped a few bandaids on the ones still bleeding.

while you were busy, megumi from the other side of the room was intrigued by his parents behavior. he had seen his mum doing this to his dad before and he was pretty sure he knew the next step.

megumi sat up from his little fort, politely walking past the dinosaurs he had placed next to him. his tiny feet patting on the floor until he reached his dad.

‘hi baby what’s up?’ you asked sweetly as your son stood shyly infront of the two of you eyeing you both with uncertainty.

he bent down slightly to where you were holding tojis fingers and said

‘fooooooo’ the air from his mouth tickling tojis hands.

immediately you cracked up at your son copying you. you always kissed and blew on megumi when he got hurt so here he was curing his dad the only way he knew how.

‘this finger too baby’ you said to him as you held up tojis left hand to megumis face.

megumi went round to each finger with a soft peck and a big blow making sure he got rid of the pain.

‘oi kid i’ve got one more here’ toji said as he pointed to his cheek.

megumi was slightly confused as there was nothing red there but he placed his hands on his dads shoulders to balance himself nonetheless and gave him a big wet kiss then blew cold air right into his eye.

‘thank you kid you’ve got powers i feel completely better’

he picked his son up and placed him in his lap, his entire body fitting perfectly onto one of tojis thighs.

‘mama i have powers!’ he proudly exclaimed as he settled down and looked at you with his big googly eyes.

your heart softened at the sight of your two boys sat holding hands, the spitting image of each other matching scowls and all.

a/n : idk i’m rlly tired i was just thinking about it

[sojumica]

Strawberry lipgloss nerd!gojo x bimbo!reader

nerd gojo trying to help bimbo reader pass a class, what happens when they fall for each other?

contains: fluff - crack - profanity

idrk if ima make a pt.2 but i’ll be posting nerd!gojo x nerd!reader soon!

[coffee-and-geto]

SATORU, PhD (PRETTY HOT & DOMESTIC) — prof gojo series

His students get theories. Well… You? Satoru in a half-buttoned shirt.

pairing: professor!gojo x f!reader

summary: unlike the vast majority of people, your life at university have sometimes... nothing to do with a normal student life. good grades? pfft. partying? what’s next? no, it’s better to be your professor’s girlfriend. the roguish, charming and arrogant satoru gojo — the one who turns heads and has the knowledge to fulfill your satisfaction. and even to fulfill both your lives, which are only destined to merge… enough for you to live together.

warnings: MDNI +18 ONLY, smut, nsfw, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m!), shower sex, kitchen sex, car sex, office sex, probably a lot of sex, sex p in v, unprotected sex, rough and gentle sex, (reverse) cowgirl, missionary, doggy-style, teasing, 69, creampies, overstimulation, eventual anal (why not?), multiple rounds, eventual breeding kink but not as main (once or two), art by @/3-aem.

content: reader is in her early 20s/gojo in his early 30s, age gap, college AU, golden retriever! gojo, slight black cat! reader, suggestive, jealousy, domestic life, fluff, slight angst, crack, smut (a lot actually), gojo being gojo, student-teacher relationship, gojo wants the reader as his wife, he’s quite rich.

wc: 0k

status: ongoing

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. A DISTRACTION? OR A DUTY-FULFILLING BOYFRIEND?

...and more to come!

a/n: welcome to this new series! i don’t have much to say here cuz honestly? i crave professor gojo so bad that i need to write down what i’m daydreaming about him all the time. also, i don’t think i’ll write everytime for this series but at least once a month when i’m ovulating or have a new idea. now, i can only wish you guys to enjoy this silly little series of one-shots with a life as professor gojo’s girlfriend :)

put your age in bio before asking to be tagged please!

tag list: open | @izumkay , @lostfracturess , @nariminsstuff , @superdonkeypatroleggs , @0hisu , @iheartgojoo66 , @cax-per , @not-aya , @petalsrdead , @kimkimoruo , @indiewritesxoxo , @paolarox01 , @reverrieee , @billiondollarworth , @myahfig4 , @lilac-witch , @markliving , @sukunaslilsocks , @hyori2 , @lilychan176 , @yvesdoee , @redbambii , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore , @princess-bblgm , @oh-my-god-donald , @etsuniiru , @ethereal-moonlit , @lymsfm , @mutsu422 , @bearwithmoo ,

© 2024 COFFEE-AND-GETO - Plagiarism, steal, translation, or publication without consent is strictly prohibited — including others social medias like Wattpad, Tiktok, Tumblr, and everything else.

[romantisized]

bounce back ── gojo satoru (m).

pairing ⋆ basketball player!gojo satoru & journalist!reader.

professional athletes have the tendency of being cocky over their talents, gojo satoru is the most notorious for it. you decide to knock him down a peg.

genre & word count ⋆ angst & smut | 11.5k words.

fic tags & warnings ⋆ fem-bodied!reader (they/she), basketball!au, rivals to ???, gojo is a conceited asshole, petty bantering, social media elements, near-death experience/accidental attempted murder, one (1) face slap, unprotected sex, pull out method, hate(-ish) sex, sub!gojo & dom!reader, fingering, one (1) pussy slap, squirting, slight degredation, crying, etc.

sticky notes ⋆ this ended up so much longer than i anticipated, but i will slobber all over your cocks if you read. it's good for the brain, give it some stimulation.

Sweat beading off his head, he drowns out the noise of everyone around him. Sapphire eyes fixate on the hoop that towers across the court as he dribbles the ball, sprinting towards another win. On the score post, fifteen seconds are flashing on the clock as the points are nearly neck and neck. Tokyo versus Kyoto, 34 and 32. With just enough time on the clock, Gojo can give his team a few more points to lengthen the gap. 

And when he’s determined, he gets a look in his eyes, where his dazzling blue seems to only shine more, the light beaming inside of his pupils as his white eyebrows course into a frown. He blocks out the entire world— the audience, the buzzers, the screeching of shoes against the wooden ground, the opposing team and his own team— just for his own ambitions. He moves untouched, something like a sixth sense telling him when and where to go as the sounds of his dribbles only get louder. His force caused the ball to hit the ground harder and harder. 

Gojo Satoru held such a high power in the world of basketball, a force to be reckoned with, and seemingly going untouchable. When in this state of mind, it told everyone to back off as he made himself into a brick wall, hogging the ball for himself and forcing his opponents to create a path towards the basketball hoop. Those who dared to approach him in such a state risked injuries that the referee couldn’t save them from, they’ve learned their lesson nth many times. So, instead of approaching the beast head on, they waited for possible failure.

Ten seconds on the clock. Like tradition, the crowd began to count down. Their voices were so loud that passersby could hear their chanting as they stomped on the bleachers. They got louder with every descending number. Ten . . . Nine . . . Eight . . . 

The ball was now in the air, flying right inside of the hoop before the crowd could cry out “Seven!” His pink lips contorted to a smirk as the opposing team reached for the ball and ran in the opposite direction in hopes to make a comeback with the little time remaining. However, it was no use. It seemed as though time had quickened in favor of Gojo. FourThreeTwo… The obnoxious blaring of the alarm sounding and the game is over. 

Gojo’s chest comes to a steady rise and fall, but he’s not exhausted as much as the other men are. No, he still feels enough energy to keep on going. Turning his back to the court, he goes to the bench as his coach gives him a curt nod. “Excellent job, as always.”

The only man viable for his respect, Gojo bows his head in acknowledgement as the older man throws him his water bottle. Catching it with ease, he throws his head back as he squeezes the content in his mouth. His skin glistening from the sweat as flashes hurdle his way, a crowd starting to form around him. The camera shutters seem to get more silent when they surround him, capturing Gojo’s figure, his black jersey hanging outside of his baggy shorts, an inch past the elastic hem. No undershirt underneath it as his muscle and bicep seem more prominent tonight. Leaning his weight on one leg, the cameras perfectly capture the vein on his right calf. On his knees, mismatched knee sleeves. One black and another a deep and dark red to match the accent colors in his team uniform. And his shoes, blue— his signature color.

The professional athlete is expecting the typical post-game questions— How do you feel after another win? What’s your secret for staying on top for this long? Do you ever believe that you’re going to fall back down to the bottom? He has all the typical answers, short cut and dry as he keeps that habitual smirk that he’s gained so much compliments for. Beauty and brawns— a multifaceted man, he calls himself, as well as the press. 

However, the questions he anticipates are replaced with different ones, catching him off guard. 

“Gojo,” a female reporter calls out, auburn hair stopping mid back. “What do you think about the things said about you by the Career-Ender?”

“Yeah!” An older man shouts out, a buzz-cut with patchy spots. “They say that in a matter of a year or so, your basketball career is bound to fall apart. What do you have to say about that?”

“Is it true that you pushed them out the way after they were just asking for help?” Accusations being thrown at him left and right, questions that he didn’t have the immediate answers to. He was being thrown into a whirlwind that he didn’t have sly remarks to make. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head as he had to think of something quick and make his way towards the locker room. A light bulb flashes in his mind, remembering the name the first reporter stated.

“Career-Ender?” he scoffs. “If anything, I’ll be the one making sure they don’t have a job after this—” he chuckles as the mics are shoved in his direction. Propping his hands on his hips, he takes a breath to collect his thoughts. “— Listen, all those presumptions in that article were false. We’ve seen it time and time again, people with no time in their lives fabricating stories in hopes to tarnish successful people’s careers. This is one of those times. I suggest that the Career-Ender find another line of business to work in and possibly some therapy to help seal whatever hole is inside their heart. My team and I just garnered another win under our belt, let’s talk about that instead.”

Gojo never had any intentions of looking into what the paparazzi was referring to. He chalked it all up to this new day and age of performative activism through the use of cancel culture. How social media liked to heighten situations that at the end of the day, will all end up being nothing. He did what he did best, at first, ignoring the comments and snide remarks he started getting early on. 

However, people started coming out with stories and recalling negative encounters that they had with the basketball player. Each story detailing his nasty personality and actions that started alarming his manager, Higuruma Hiromi, and PR Team, requesting him to meet them to talk about the potential results that could happen. Gojo made sure to hire a team that could tackle anything, that could keep him out of situations like this. So, part of him was shocked that Higuruma actually wanted to call a meeting over this… this— this petty deal. 

Calls and buzzing of his phone become exhausting that curiosity eats him and he’s clicking on the link that started this all.

─────

GOJO SATORU, MOST TALENTED BASKETBALL PLAYER OF THIS GENERATION, SOON TO SUCCUMB TO HIS ATTITUDE AND BAD BEHAVIOR

By Your Name | March __, 2025 | 12:00 PM

Gojo Satoru, a twenty-nine year old basketball player, has certainly made a name for himself in the past ten years. From his outstanding athletic performance as a college freshman attending Tokyo University to being drafted to the basketball team, Tokyo Jujutsu, he’s certainly proved time and time again that he’s the next biggest thing. No one can lie about his achievements and the potential that he holds and has yet to unlock. He has so much potential within himself, yet… I can only see it coming into a downward spiral. Why? All because of that nasty attitude of his. 

On countless of times and occasions, the popular and professional athlete has shown his true colors on camera. Earlier in his career, plenty of reporters and spectators had believed his conceited personality would call for an early retirement, but by some greater God, here Gojo Satoru still stands on his mighty horse, thinking he can continue going on his selfish rampage and continue to reap the benefits that society has offered him with open arms. And I have come to ask when will we stop turning a blind eye to the ruthless and abhorrent behavior that men continue to display? When will we stop excusing their disgusting acts because of the power that they hold and do what needs to be done— nip their career right in the bud. 

Read More . . .

─────

Gojo scoffs by the end of it all. Pages upon pages of what seems to be a butthurt journalist who didn't get the attention they were hoping for. Why were a few negative encounters causing such an uproar? However, in the tabs linking to “Articles Like This” list a row of newsletters all revolving around Gojo and his apparent “Worst Moments.” Ultimately falling into a rabbit hole of reading people's opinions about him and watching videos relaying just how much of a nasty and unlikeable person he is. 

For the first time in years, he feels his stomach tighten at what’s being said about him. How people have found him so appalling and their alleged experiences about him, he can’t recall any of those said events. However, he usually has the habit of forgetting things that don’t matter to him. It’s the reason why his days seem to be blurred and conjuncted together. However, that quick second of his heart being ripped to shreds dissipates as he tells himself not to care about. In a few months time, he’ll win for his team and once again, be the apple of the people’s eyes. 

But, for the time being, your name rings aloud in his mind. Something, no— someone— worth remembering. 

─────

Gojo can’t remember the last time he has ever been nervous for a game. Honing in his skills and talent, he feels like he’s near perfected becoming the best basketball player this generation has ever seen. However, in the locker room as his teammates pile out in a jumbled line, his feet tap against the tiled floor as he tries his best not to reveal his nerves. Across his social media accounts, the numbers and views are dwindling down as people keep to their promise of cutting ties to their now ex-favorite basketball player. Articles upon articles revealing things that he’s done.

On top of that, Higuruma and his PR Team truthfully believed that he needed to take a break and step outside of the limelight for a while. They said that they needed him to reflect on his character and consider partaking in selfless acts to start painting a better picture for himself. It further struck a nerve because they didn’t need to outright say it. They believed the articles and the stories being reported about him. They, too, believe that he isn’t a good person. And in a matter of seconds, those nerves turn into rage and the hand towel that he’s been holding onto is being thrown across the room. White eyebrows knitting together in anger and cerulean eyes darkening, his footsteps sound through the small area before heading towards the stands and the courts, where people were still cheering for him and calling out his name. Not some bitch that people dubbed the Career-Ender. 

Gojo didn’t partake in his team’s pre-game ritual, didn’t join in for their prayers and chants. No, he stood on the sidelines and waited for the referee to announce the start of the game. People saw it in his eyes— that look. He was all in for this game. He had something to prove in this game. 

So, when the ball was in the air, he didn’t give the referee much time to take a step back, jumping up to heights that his opponent couldn’t even fathom touching as Gojo sent the ball hurdling straight to the ground with a loud bounce that called for silence inside the arena. Gasps echoed as everything fell silent, eyes glued onto the tall figure, the beast that is, Gojo Satoru. 

Starting off strong from the jump, everyone can feel the hunger and presence of him. The first half of the game, he's a dominant force, scoring majority, if not all, the points and leading such a seering start that people believe the opposing team could never catch up to. When halftime is called, he casts an invisible force field around himself that people wouldn't dare to intrude on. However, his coach had never been just people. The man had wedged his way deep inside the young boy, being the father figure that he never had and always needed. 

“Son…” the superior sighs, meeting Gojo in his eyes. “I understand that things have been rough for you lately. The things that people are saying about you are enough to rile anyone up, but you have nothing to prove. You've already done that by making it this far. Now, Satoru, you need to take a breather. I'm going to bench you until you get yourself under control.”

“No!” Gojo shouts, pushing the man he had always admired, using more force than intended. It all happens in slow motion, Gojo sending his coach to the ground and everyone watching. Eyes widening as people come to crowd him, but the coach shakes his head, bringing himself to stand up, with a limp, however. He catches his breath before sending Gojo a stern and hardened limp.

“You can get back on the court,” he sighs. “But you better get your shit together before you fall right into their hands.”

And the coach doesn't need to elaborate for Gojo to know exactly who he's talking about─ you. For once, Gojo feels a sense of normalcy running back into him. His body relaxes, but that heat still runs in his body. Instead of using your name as a crutch, haunting him, it now fuels his fire.

When the timer runs out and players are being switched in and out, Gojo goes to his position. Ball thrown in the air, again, he sends it searing back to the ground and his team’s possession. That same hunger and fire running through him as he dashes across the court and leading his team to victory. A one-man show, overworking his body over the years, he does it without question. Unknowingly, his body is deteriorating at this moment. 

He's moving slower and that barrier he's built is slowly falling apart. His opponents are catching up to him, and for a first, he notices them. They're meeting his steps with ease, gaining up on him and threatening to overpower him. It only hardens Gojo as he’s determined to hold himself together. Intaking a harsh breath, he dribbles faster and forces himself forward. 

In no time, the fifteen second mark is trusted upon everyone. Tokyo led with 75 points and the opposition with 15. The gap is large, but not large enough. One, no! Two more shots! he thinks to himself. I can do it!

Within the first five seconds, he's able to make another three pointer. However, his head becomes too big when he aims to get his team to 80. He's never felt the same exhaustion that his team has, building so much endurance, that despite sweat beading his forehead, he always felt that he had the energy for more. 

But, his vision is getting dark and grainy. His calves are stiff and he feels like if he took one more step, he's going to fall. With every trial he's faced in his life, he was always able to power through, but when will he realize that this isn't a trial nor is it an obstacle that the universe has thrown at him. It's a warning that he's choosing to ignore. 

The crowd is counting down and Gojo was never one to disappoint. Already halfway across the court, he aims for another three-pointer when an opponent obstructs his path, colliding into him and making the taller individual lose his footing. A twist, so subtle but not much longer when Gojo lets out a strangled cry and a loud thud sends the crowd silent after their sudden intake of breath. Medics coming out to remove him from the court, the entire arena watches in horror while the athlete watches them in pain and trepidation. With so much running inside his mind, one thing stands prominent. You, your name tied down to that damn article. 

This entire time he had been trying not to let your words eat him alive, but he's afraid that he's fallen right into your trap. He's afraid that this entire time, you had been right. 

He was the reason for his own undoing. 

─────

You don’t think you intended for the nickname, Career-Ender, to ever be bestowed upon you. You don’t think you ever intended to be the type of journalist that people feared or felt intimidated by. You wanted an image that truly reflected who you were. You wanted people to see— to read— how passionate you were about sports and to read the love you invoke in your words. However, one drunken night led to another, where you poured your heart out into venting out your feelings about a baseball player and how distraught over your first encounter with him on social media that one thing turned into another and people took it upon themselves to put the man on the sidelines. 

You truly didn’t mean for your reputation to be someone who took pleasure into ending talented people’s careers, but after that first instance, where people shared their negative experiences with the professional baseball player to the point he was put on trial for domestic violence accusations, you found power in your drunken rage. 

Earning a significant following and continuing to write the articles that you intentionally sought to publish, you garnered the title of a well-endowed journalist as people started to see your potential. Your boss, while first enraged with your actions, had opened up the doors to more opportunities and endeavors for you, seeing how people saw you as the pinnacle of sports. People trusted your word when you said a young athlete had the potential to make it big; people trusted you when you called into question the attire for female volleyball players; but, most of all, they trusted your word when you didn’t like an athlete. 

You didn’t put your notorious nickname into action often. Truthfully, the title was thrusted upon you the moment your drunken rant had disproportionately blown up, and you’ve never written another article showing distaste for another athlete again. There were a bunch of rude and cocky athletes. If you nitpicked at every little thing, it would question your credibility.

However, you had purpose in your critiques. A fluster of emotions sitting on your chest about it, you had every intention of posting it when you did. Though you didn’t take pride in the nickname that people coined you for, it has its perks as it calls for people’s attention. 

With your admiration and love for basketball, you oftentime spent time and energy in keeping up in the scene. Attending basketball games and when you couldn’t be at every one of them, you had them saved up on any device that you had on you. Your eyes beamed watching the athletes play at their best (or their worst), it sent blood pumping down your spine as everything was happening before your eyes. However, you hate the fact that you have to say that all of your most prominent negative run-ins were from the Tokyo team. Moreso specifically, from Gojo Satoru. 

You chalked up the first one to exhaustion and running on short time; you considered the rather harsh shove to be an accident— the bad press ruining it for the few good eggs out there; and you tried to excuse each and every moment for something that it wasn’t. However, you couldn’t excuse what he said. “How does it feel to know that you’re writing for a sports column because your life could never amount up to mine?” 

It took that comment to make you realize that he was just a horrible human being, a self-proclaimed prodigy despite never showing any true potential until his late teens. It took you a while to realize that the man just had too much of an ego on him. You figured that at some point in time that people would come to that revelation that while he had the talent, his nastiness would unravel in his own career. He just needed a push.

(And you needed something groundbreaking.)

However, you didn’t expect your nudge would lead him to an embarrassing fall as news articles come out revealing how much he’s been overworking himself. You just needed something to call for attention, and for something that would make your boss believe that you still had that edge in you. With significant time passing from your initial post about aforementioned baseball players, your boss believed your potential was running thin, egging you to steer back into the path of career-ending blog posts. Falling into the bait, all your intentions of posting that article had been for selfish ones, but never had you been a liar. 

Just as quick as people were able to call Gojo a dying flame, they were just as quick to put the blame on you for his downfall. Noting that this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t fabricated such lies to tarnish his name. People pulling up old clips to note your supposed harsh encounters with Gojo Satoru, and calling out each and every one of your “lies.” Just as you had tried tarnishing his name, people were now trying to ruin yours, and calling for Gojo Satoru back on the court, praying for a speedy recovery. 

And with shoulders slumped as you hold a cardboard box with your most prized possessions inside.

“Your name has led this company under a lot of backfire for what you’ve been releasing,” your boss’s eyes holding no remorse as he sends you on your way. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to let you go.”

With a heavy sigh, you can only call this your karma. 

─────

After contemplating for a week, Gojo finally pulls out his phone and dials Higuruma’s number. It only takes his phone two rings before he hears the deep and gravelly voice of his manager answering his call, “Hello?”

“I’ll take the position,” Gojo’s straightforward, his voice trembling as he’s accepted the conditions that his team has given him. After being bedridden in the hospital, doctors telling him that his body was shutting down due to years of being overworked and his body succumbing to his self-inflicted suffering, it gave him time to reflect. Racking through his mind, he remembers some of the occasions that people spoke ill about him. It made him realize that you were right and instead of the rage that he underwent, he should’ve been doing self reflection. 

“Huh?” his disoriented manager hums in confusion. Gojo sighs, rolling his eyes as he throws open his front door. The doctors had told him to take it easy, to not work out and just… rest. However, would a quick jog kill him? With his smart watch on his wrist as he steadies to speed walking before finding a gate to lean against. 

“That coach position at that basketball camp,” he further clarifies. “You’re… right. It’ll do a lot of good for me.”

Maybe I’ll actually become the role model that I thought I was. There’s a pause, where Gojo believes that the call has disconnected. However, when he taps on the watch screen, his manager’s name still blares brightly. “Uh, hello?”

“Sorry, no, I heard you,” Higuruma collects himself. “Truthfully, I didn’t expect you to accept so quickly—” his coach chuckles in between “— I thought you’d need more convincing.”

Am I really such a stubborn ass? Gojo didn’t realize that he had voiced his thoughts out loud, shocked when his manager responded bluntly, “Yes.”

A vein starts protruding his temple, eyebrows knitting together in momentary annoyance. However, he catches himself before he could flip. Inhaling and exhaling as those self help articles and apps have been instructing him to do, closing his eyes as he calms himself gradually. Instead of anger, a dry laugh falls from his lips. “Just send me the details— please.”

───── 

You were a coach when you weren’t a journalist. Something that you did per diem when things were slow at the office, but now that you had been fired and no other company seemed to want you after your tremendous fall, you had to take up more hours to pay the bills while you considered the possibilities of how you could fill the void in your journalist heart. 

Tik Tok was oversaturated with opinionated people, but would they accept one more person? Did you have anything to offer on the ex-dancing app? 

You heard your name being called, another one of the coaches, but the head of the camp within itself, Masamichi. “Yo, I need to speak to you for a second.”

Nodding, you call for your aspiring basketball players to take a ten minute break as you step to the side. Masamichi sighs as his hands prop on his hips, his head hanging low as he glances towards you. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m toying with you. Please understand that.”

“What’re you on about now?” You furrow your eyebrows, a little snort of air leaving your nose as you try to stay lighthearted. However, with the seriousness of his voice, you know that whatever he’s going to tell you won’t be anything to laugh about. 

“We’re getting a new coach this Friday,” Masamichi says, bouncing on his heels. Your eyes beam, trying to understand why exactly this would hold any detriment towards you. A new coach was always a good thing in your eyes. 

Seeing that flicker of light in your eyes, Masamichi inwardly grimaces when he adds, “it’s going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Oh. “Apparently it’s to help clear his name. At first, when Higuruma called me and proposed the idea, we both thought it would be an ordeal where he would completely decline. However, Higuruma called back and said that he actually accepted the offer. After a week, mind you, but—”

“It’s fine,” you interject Masamichi’s ramble. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”

You think you’re trying to convince yourself that more than you are him. He knows it, too. Grabbing a hold of your upper arm, the older man looks you in your eyes. “Listen—” When his voice deepens, you know he’s taking on that role of a father figure. “—If he gives you a hard time, let me know. You’re an asset here. You work well with the kids and I’ve seen so much improvement ever since you joined us full time.”

Masamichi knows you well. Really well that he knows that you use humor to deflect how you’re truly feeling. “He won’t be a bother. I’m the career-ender after all.”

The hefty sigh that falls from your lips accompanied by the awkward and shifty laughter lets the older individual beg to differ. However, he knows that if he pushes any further, you’d only get snappy with him, so he puts you to the challenge. “If he makes you break, I’m giving him your trainees.”

You gasp, “For him to tarnish? That’s under your jurisdiction.”

“Then, do what you do best. I’m counting on you.”

─────

Gojo really did have all intentions of bettering himself. To leave his selfishness and conceit in the past. He always thought he worked well with adolescents, believing that despite still having so much to learn, he could also help them unlock what makes them so different from the rest. However, the moment Masamichi told him that he would be working alongside you, playing the role as your assistant coach, the sound of your name made his blood boil and the sight of you making his eye twitch. 

Rummaging through his mind, he remembers your face. He understands why exactly you would react the way you did. He had no reason to treat you so woefully, but you were the one that seemed to nudge his domino pieces before fate had called it. When you greeted yourself, you tried to exude someone who was kind hearted and sweet, but Gojo wanted to unravel you the same way you did him. Also, what did you know about basketball and how to teach kids?

Inhale and exhale, Satoru, he reminds himself as he watches you instruct the students to take laps up and down the steps. You seemed so comfortable and in your element— more comfortable than him— and Gojo wanted to rile you up. It began with snide comments, statements that blatantly showed his resentment towards you. “I don’t know, guys. Your coach has been someone to end careers, why’d you want to listen to them?”

It made you tick the way he was evidently trying to get a rise out of you, but fortunately, your students spoke up for you before you could defend yourself. “We listen to Coach ___ because they help shape us into good people as well as good players. You’ll only teach us how to eat the court the same way you did.”

That snide remark made his ears turn red, quickly nipping that tactic in the bud. Instead, he became smarter, but in your eyes, pettier. Small pranks that were initially a nuisance— replacing your sugar with salt, water buckets over the door, and glitter bombs that went off at the right times. Small things that would momentarily get you annoyed, but ultimately have you moving on with your day. You played a big game online, but in reality, you were a measly ant along with the rest of the herd. 

Masamichi tried saving you when he could, but you always batted off his attempts. You could handle a man-child. However, everyone had their line and Gojo found out where to cut it. He had heard that you didn’t like bananas, and completely detested them. Every time that Masamichi went out for a run, you’d always ask for a smoothie, but always put the emphasis on no bananas. He saw the perfect opportunity to fuck with you. 

Your typical order that he had managed to memorize with the amount of times you recited it, but just with the addition of bananas. He learned that the drink was actually a simple Strawberry Banana smoothie, just with a few other unnecessary ingredients. He held the liquid delicacy as he walked into the building. Your vehicle parked out front notifying him that you were on work grounds today, early like you habitually are. He had the drink in a paper cup warmer to have a barrier from the condensation on it, and he had the worker write your name on the cup instead of his. He had added his own personal touch to it, writing ‘Just because’ on the side without actually letting you know it was from him. And when you weren’t looking, he set it down alongside your things and went about his day.

─────

“Ooh,” you hummed, spotting the drink on the counter next to your backpack. Picking it up, you read the sides. In a low voice, you repeated, “‘Just because…’” 

Deducing it down to Masamichi, you pull open the fridge to slide the fruity beverage towards the back before stuffing your lunchbag right in front of it. While this wasn’t your journaling career, where your food and drinks have been stolen a bunch of times, you still had to be about your belongings just in case of the off chance. That off chance being Gojo. 

You can only hope that he doesn’t make your day too difficult as you head around back. With the schedule changing biweekly and the forecast calling for an all-sunny week, your team will be instructed to use the outside court all week unless the weather decides otherwise. Adorned in a simple white t-shirt over your sports bra, you had it tied in the back as you had on sports pants. The sun was beating down on you. It didn’t even take five minutes for you to pull out your baseball cap and shove it on your head. A tall shadow started to overcast you and with one quick glance back, it’s the white-headed devil himself. Trying to keep it cordial as much as you could, you gave him your typical greeting for everyone, even a stranger. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” he yawns, crossing his arms. “Everything going swell so far?”

Quirking up an eyebrow, you give him a knowing look. “Swell? That’s been your weakest alarm so far. What is it so far? Distracting me before I realize that you’ve miraculously got the children to take your side and they’re going to start throwing water balloons at me? No—” you purse your lips, a finger on your chin. “—You’re not actually that smart.”

“No,” he scoffs. The kids still don’t like him enough to side with him. “I was genuinely checking up on you. I see my attempt has failed.”

“Like your career,” you remark. 

“Because of you.”

“Because of your abhorrent attitude and personality.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for you.”

“Do you ever accept accountability for your own actions?”

“Do you?”

The gravel under your shoes sounds as you turn to face him. You want to shout at him, to continue to throw insults at him. However, as you look up at the bastard. You let out a deep sigh, and your tough act falls. “I didn’t mean for you to really take my words to heart. I just—”

Gojo scoffs. “Like I’d believe that. You seemed to really love your little nickname a few seconds ago.”

“Only because you pushed me to—” You take another second. “Can’t you just make this easy for me?”

“No.”

“God, you’re so immature,” you breathe, before inevitably continuing, “I’m being honest, I really am. My boss— My old boss, he was hounding me that I lost my spark, and while I meant every word I said in that article, I didn’t actually think you would take it to heart.” 

“What?” Gojo snorts, despite taking in your apology for what it's worth. He can hear the sincerity in your voice. “Think that all professional athletes are conceited and heartless?”

“No,” you scoff. “Just thought you were someone more thick-skinned. Didn’t really see the fragile little boy that you still are.”

You didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. In fact, you didn’t mean to say it at all. Your eyes widen as realization strikes you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it—”

“No, you’re right,” he says uncharacteristically calmly. “You’re right. I’m still that fragile little boy, but you still amount to nothing, coaching a bunch of kids who might not ever truly make it. And if they do, they’ll still be leaving you in the dust, where you still amount to nothing.”

And it cuts this time as well, but at least you can convince yourself that you deserved it. 

─────

“I don’t know why I said it,” you sigh, slouching across the booth seat from Masamichi, still reflecting on what you told Gojo and ultimately what he told you. With the smoothie in hand, you swirl the straw around as you mix the large ice chunks with the rest of it. “I didn’t really mean how I said it. I was just trying to say that I understand him— where he’s coming from. It just didn’t come across how I wanted it to.”

“Yeah,” Masamichi hums. “You always struggled with finding the right words to say. Somehow, your journalism career lasted longer than I anticipated.”

You playfully kick at his shin, gaining no reaction from the man as the two of you chuckle. “I deserve it, though. What he said.”

“Mmm,” the older man shakes his. “That’s a reach. I understand where you're coming from and his reasoning too, but at the end of the day, he accepted his position to help learn how to manage situations like this and to build a more kind soul. He needs to build tougher skin and learn how to react under weighty circumstances like this.”

“Yeah, but still—” You reach for the smoothie at last, taking a sip from the straw.

“‘Yeah, but still’ nothing,” Masamichi points at you. “You didn’t deserve it. End of the story.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “By the way, thanks for the smoothie. You didn’t have to, because now I feel like I have to pay you—”

“I didn’t buy you the smoothie.” You didn’t have the time to process what he was saying, feeling like your throat was clogging up and like you couldn’t breathe. Hives started covering your arms as you started to drown out every sound, including the panicked shouted of Masamichi as soon as he saw your skin. 

“Shit,” he cursed, calling out your name and reaching for your bag. “Your epipen, where is it?” 

He was trying to act fast, dumping out all of your stuff, but to no avail, he couldn’t find the device. Hearing the commotion, people that were passing by peaked in to see what was happening. “Masamichi, what’s—”

“Call the ambulance!” he shouts. “Fuck!”

─────

“Gojo!” he hears his name being called from across the court. A coworker he doesn’t know the name of, but from the hurriedness in his steps, Gojo doesn’t have the time or chance to try and remember. “Bring every student inside! It’s an emergency!”

He doesn’t have to rush in the kids himself, they do it without any further instruction as everyone rushes towards the double doors. Leading the kids inside of the auditorium, they’re all instructed as everyone’s updated about what has happened. (Your Name) had an allergic reaction to her smoothie. Masamichi had to call the ambulance. 

Eyes widening as Gojo puts the puzzle pieces together. It was because of him. The sound of ambulance sirens bring him back to reality as Gojo curses under his breath. “Shit!” 

He doesn’t think before acting, running in the direction of where people were saying she was, pushing open the doors to the lounge to see you on the ground and Masamichi hovering over her. 

“I’m so sorry!” he immediately comes to apologize, not giving his boss a moment to hurry him out of the room. “I didn’t realize that she was allergic to bananas. I did it as an innocent prank! I didn’t know!”

“You what?” Forgetting about you on the ground, Masamichi comes to stand over your body and heads straight towards Gojo. “You fucking idiot! Are you aware that they could die because of your idiocy?”

Gojo’s done a lot of stupid things in his life, but he’s never felt the guilt the way that this act has him feeling right now. He nods, unable to choke out a yes as his eyes divert from Masamichi’s eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“You better hope and pray that she lives through this, boy, because if she doesn’t—”

The EMTs burst through the doors just in time, asking where the victim lies as Masamichi diverts his attention back to you. Helping the men get you on the gurney as they treat you for your anaphylactic shock and getting your vitals back on track before leading you towards the big vehicle. Masamichi doesn’t bat an eye back in Gojo’s direction, and Gojo had not managed to make himself useful as he watched the entire act go down. In too much of a shock, realizing how once again, his selfishness and rage took over that he nearly killed someone because of it. The tears streaming down his eyes have now dried up and the ongoing looks from his coworkers don’t make him feel any better. 

Again, his feet do the thinking as he heads straight outside and to his vehicle. He’s abandoning the kids, yes, but there are more capable adults inside the camp to know how to look over them. He knows that after this life-threatening ordeal, he’ll no longer be accepted back. 

He also knows that Masamichi will probably beat him down for even trying to attempt visiting you, but he’ll take his chances. 

───── 

Masamichi had forced you to take two weeks of PTO the moment you had been discharged from the hospital. Establishing himself as your second father figure, he didn’t give you much choice in the matter the moment you immediately tried returning back to the camp. You don’t remember much about the incident, except the fact that one moment you were thanking him for the drink and the next, you weren’t able to breathe. 

When you tried to ask for more details from Masamichi and the doctors, they could only tell you what you already knew— your allergic reaction to bananas nearly caused your death. It was evident that the doctors didn’t know the entire story as well and that Masamichi wasn’t telling you something. He chalked it all up to an accident, saying that he forgot to tell the worker to exclude the bananas. However, you could tell something was missing. 

Was it really just a foolish mistake or was he keeping something out? You know that it was pointless to go back to the camp. Halfway into the first week of your break, you know Masamichi will do what he did to you the first time you pulled this stunt— drag you right back outside and to your car. But would a little visit hurt anybody? 

Dressed in comfortable clothing, you wear a spaghetti-strapped top and a pair of sweats. With the sun beating down on you, a bead of sweat already threatens to drip down the temple of your forehead. You speed walk to the double doors, swinging them open to be met with the silence of the hallways. Checking the time, all the students should be on the court training right now. In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of balls bouncing and dribbling down the court. 

There’s something restricting about the air when you walk down the hallway. Tension lingering from all corners of the building. Usually, there are more people sauntering around on the outside, filling out papers and documents and running quick errands. But, it’s empty. Turning a corner, you’re finally greeted by someone, Yuuji, one of the high school volunteers looking for hours. 

“Oh,” he gasps, saying your name. “You’re not supposed to be back until another week or so.”

“Yeah, I’m just visiting,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry. Where’s everyone? Usually, there are more people out and about?”

“Well, we’re a little bit understaffed,” Yuuji squirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “With you on break and Gojo getting fired, Mr. Masamichi thought it was best that every adult got more involved until you’re back.”

“Gojo’s fired?” you furrow your eyebrows. “Why? What happened—” Before Yuuji could say anything more, you snorted. “— Don’t tell me that he pulled a prank on Masamichi instead of me?”

“N-no,” Yuuji stammers. “He, uh— Um… Actually, I think I gotta go. Megumi’s probably wondering where I am right now. I gotta head back.” 

It’s evident that the boy’s hiding something, trying to fabricate a lie to get himself out of the situation. Before he could dash off, you grab him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You can see him wince, knowing that he has no way to get out of the conundrum he put himself into now. You give him a look, it’s not stern, but a soft and concerned look. A look that has Yuuji melting before you can even ask him to tell you the truth. “Masamichi’s going to kill me, but—”

When the bell rings, you make a bee line straight for Masamichi. It’s lunch time, meaning that he’s heading straight for the cafeteria with his students in line. Yuuji’s long run off to find Megumi, heading in the opposite direction of you. When you spot him, his back is turned to you as he guides the students inside, barking at two trouble makers who refuse to follow orders the first time. “Get in line! Don’t make me say it again!” 

You don’t notify him of your presence until his entire class is inside the cafeteria before you’re blurting out. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was Gojo?”

Shoulders stiffening, Masamichi’s head swivels to see you shocked. Trying to deflect from your question, his gaze immediately turns stern as he points a finger at you. “I told you not to come back until your break’s over.”

“Answer my question,” you frown. “Why did you lie to me?”

He sighs, knowing that he can’t run from this discussion with you. After all, you had a right to know. “Let’s speak about this somewhere more private.”

He leads you inside of a vacant classroom, gesturing you to sit down at any of the available desks as he leans against one himself. He sighs, holding his head down. “Apparently it was supposed to be a prank. Heard you talking one day and thought it would be funny to give you a drink with bananas.”

You tut out a breath of air, keeping your head down as you digest the information. “He had the audacity to try and visit you in the hospital. They had to rip me off before I could do any proper damage to the boy. Tried sending flowers after that, but I threw them all away.”

“But, didn’t you think I had a right to know that he tried to kill me?”

“Yes, but—” Masamichi knew that he didn’t have a good enough reason. That his choices were all fueled by anger. “His people offered payment. Enough to cover your medical bills and enough to say that he’s sorry.”

“So, they’re giving me hush money basically,” you scoffed. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but if you want his manager’s number, I’ll forward it to you and hopefully, you can find some equal grounds to agree on.”

“I wish you told me this from the jump,” you say.

“And I’m sorry for not,” Masamichi confesses. “I thought I was doing it to protect you at first, but I was just angry that he took it this far.”

“I’m just a fool for thinking that you’d buy me a smoothie so early in the morning,” you try to laugh it off, but Masamichi keeps those same frown lines on his face. 

“I’m a fool for even allowing him to work here,” he sighs. Before you can say anything about the comment, Masamichi stands to his feet and grips you by the shoulder. “Time to send you back on your way. I’ll forward you the number to his manager and hopefully after that, you’ll get some peace back into your life.”

“I really just came to visit, you know,” you sigh. “Let me stay a little longer. I miss the kids.”

“They’re not going anywhere,” he says. Nudging him, you let Masamichi lead you right back out to your car. When you’re driving home and waiting at a red light, your phone buzzes and you receive a message from him— Gojo’s Manager (Higuruma Hiromi): xxx-xxx-xxxx. 

─────

You and Higuruma come to an agreement that you’ll take the hush money— which he claims isn’t— if you can meet with Gojo himself. However, the only way you can meet Gojo is through you signing a nondisclosure agreement about the entire ordeal. You reluctantly agree because you really want some closure, and you had no intentions of going to the police about it. After the entire situation, you’re just tired and want this all to just go away. The authorities would only add to your stress and that might kill you quicker than your allergic reaction. 

Higuruma sets up for the two of you to meet at a hotel, booking a room for the two of you to speak in private— accompanied by the manager himself, as well. It’s an extravagant and luxurious place with architecture that made you believe that you had actually stepped inside of a museum. You beam in awe, but it’s all cut short when a man approaches you, and calls your name. “That’s you, correct?”

You nod. “Yes, you’re Higuruma, right?”

“Yes,” he answers. You didn’t know what to expect of the man, thinking he’d be some older man— bald— and not a man with sunken brown eyes and stringy dark hair. His eyes clearly reflect how he always sounded on the phone, exhausted, as he instructs you to follow him. The two of you walk side by side in silence before he’s clicking the ‘up’ button to the elevator and leading the way. 

The room he’s booked is gorgeous, closely resembling a home within itself as you’re immediately greeted to a family and dining area. Vintage-style couches and rugs with intricate patterns on it. It’s gorgeous. “I will let Gojo know that you’re here,” Higuruma gestures towards the dining area. “Take a seat and I’ll be back in a second.”

It takes five minutes of you admiring the centerpiece before you hear the shuffling of feet and the creak of a door opening. Craning your neck around, you watch as a disheveled Gojo leaves the confines of the hotel bedroom to pull out a chair across from you, never once meeting you in the eye. He looks like a mess, white hair worse than it usually is, sapphire eyes that look lost as purple eyebags hang, and he looks like Higuruma just had to drag him out of bed, wearing a charcoal gray t-shirt that’s all crushed up and stained black sweats. When he slouches in his seat, his voice is more gravelly than you’re used to. “You can leave, Higuruma.”

“You know I can’t do that—”

“You can leave!”

He doesn’t have to say it again for a third time. Higuruma’s eyes flash from Gojo to you before heading towards the door, leaving the hotel room altogether. However, both you and Gojo know that the man still awaits right outside the door. When an uncomfortable amount of silence has passed, Gojo’s surprisingly the first to speak. “Go ahead. Yell and me, and tell me how much of a horrible person I am.”

“I—”

“I deserve it,” he whispers. “I— I’m a shitty excuse of a person.”

“I just—” You catch yourself. When you called Higuruma and asked to meet with Gojo, you never really had a plan or prepared anything for what you were going to say. You never did know why you wanted to speak to him. You just needed to see him, see how he was holding up. When Masamichi told you the truth, it was hard to digest and at first, you were in denial. However, when you got home, you were furious. You cried out your anger, you screamed out your anger, and you ripped out your anger. However, you could never really voice it out in actual words. But a vice inside of you just calmly told you to vent. Vent like you did the first time and the second time. So, again, you tried. 

“I just—” you clenched your fists. “—Did you realize how stupid you were?”

You said it in such a calm and low voice that it made him shudder. He kept his head low, still not wanting to meet his eyes. “Do you realize how dumb and fucking stupid you are? For days at a time, pulling off ridiculous fucking pranks all because you had a personal vendetta against me to the point you nearly killed me!

“At first, I excused it, but you had every right to be angry,” you continued. “ But, I literally could not breathe. All because you thought I didn’t like bananas. You’re so fucking stupid!”

“I know…” he whispers and miraculously you hear him. 

“I don’t think you really do,” you sneer. “You ran up and down that court like you owned it, disregarding anything and everyone because you thought you were the best. Treated your own teammates as collateral damage with the excuse of bringing home another win, then wanted to cry like a little bitch because you felt threatened about what I had to say to you.”

You continue to rant out your frustrations, feeling the tension leave your body as tears pool from the corner of your eyes. Never did you realize that Gojo’s finally mustered up the courage to finally look into them. “And you might be right,” your bottom lip quivers. “I might be left in the dust, my life amounting to nothing in the end, but I’m the person who turned you into nothing, so who really has the power, huh?”

You invade his personal space, reaching across the table to point a finger in his chest. He can feel your quick breaths against his face. “It was a shame that I couldn’t watch your soul die on that court first hand. I’d have loved to spit on your grave.”

You’re so close that he can see every speckle on your face, his eyes softening at the flicker of rage that runs rampant through you. He concludes it as a spur of emotions when his lips touch yours, tasting the faint touch of lip gloss against your lips and mint of your toothpaste. He feels the fleeting moment in which you reciprocate the taste of his supple pink tongue against yours before a sting to the face detaches his lips from yours. And he’s met back with that fiery gaze of yours before your eyes falter. “What— fuck—”

This one is more seering, sucking the breath from his lungs as he feels your fingers knot inside of his white locks. The two of you stretching across the piece of furniture, lips locked onto each other’s. His arms reach for your waist with need, pulling you to him and dragging you across the table, nearly sending the two of you flying off the seat. Catching each other’s balance, his grip around your waist tightens as a deep sigh falls from his lips. 

He presses you against him hard, making you feel the growing ache of his cock, swelling up from lust as he latches onto you. The palpitating air thickens as he attempts to swallow you whole. He pulls away, chest rising and falling, as his pupils dilate. He breathes, “Tell me how much you hate me.”

Hands wrapping around his neck, your nails dig into his skin. “I fucking hate you. I wish we never crossed paths.”

Fuck, he curses inwardly, pulling back to his lips as his arms begin to wander the course of your body. You’re wearing a simple top and shorts that stop mid-thigh. Fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, his long and slender digits send the cotton material upwards, exposing your bare waist and up to your sports bra. The sage green elastic material hugs onto your chest as he throws your shirt off. You ground your hips to his pelvis, the denim rubbing against his covered cock and eliciting foreign sounds from his lips. And your lips tremble in hurt, eyes getting glossy as you pull away from him. You hold his face, caressing it and forcing him to see how hurt you are. “I could’ve died, Satoru. Do you really realize how fucking stupid you were?”

“I do…” His eyes flicker away from yours before he feels your fingers digging into his skin. “I do… I was so fucking stupid.”

Grinding your hips down, Gojo’s hands fall back to your waist, keeping you grounded there. “You deserve to rot in jail.”

He nods, this time mouthing the two words, I do. He goes to toy with the button of your jeans shorts, undoing it and pulling down the zipper. You grab onto his wrist, stopping him from continuing. “You’re forever indebted to me, y’know that? No amount of money can silence me.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he easily succumbs. “I’ll get on my knees for you.”

“Want to get that in writing?”

“Yes.” Guiding Gojo’s hand into the depths of your shorts and past the band of your underwear, he feels the curls of your pubic hair, playing with the tufts of locks before dipping down further. Your hips rise as you latch back onto his lips and tug down your pants, kicking them off when they pool at your ankles. All the while, Gojo’s hand is still stuck inside your underwear, playing with your clit and sliding his digits down your folds. Arousal pooling from your cunt that he can only imagine tastes sweet. He can only hope that you’ll give him the opportunity to try. 

He rolls his thumb against the dark bud as his index and middle finger delve deeper, heart pounding against his chest as his back sinks into the back of the chair. Your slick is sticky, gliding against his digits as he feels your folds, dancing around your entrance. Legs spread as your hips are in the air, your spine shudders as you inhale deeply. Your nails dig into his biceps, certainly marking and bruising his delicate skin as it reddens under your harsh touch. Your hips gyrate and grind against his fingers, hoping for more friction than what he’s allowing you. 

Everytime you leave the sweet taste of his mouth, Gojo feels his soul softly crying out as his sapphire eyes twinkle in need for you. 

“Gojo,” there’s a dark look in your gaze, eyes hazy with lust that looks so good on you. Hands traveling to knot themselves back into his hair, you tug harshly. “Don’t you want me to feel good?”

Your eyes soften, feigning innocence despite the position you’re both compromised in. Still, Gojo can’t help but fall for the spell you have him under. “Yes, I do.”

You’re close, capturing his bottom lip in between your teeth as you bite down on it, nearly drawing blood before letting go. “Then, stop teasing me. Be good for me, yeah? Or, are you still that pathetic little boy I always knew you were— er, are?”

“I’ll be anything you need me to be,” he breathes. 

“Then, fuck me with your fingers,” you say. “Make me feel good.”

Gojo Satoru really is a skilled and talented man whose potential died down with his continuously poor choices. You truly meant it when you said he had so much more to unlock and hone in on with his skill, but his selfishness and greed overpowered him. But, right now, you can only see a selfless man who wants to please. A man who’s finally using those skills and practice and putting them to good use. His lengthy fingers twist and turn inside of you, your arousal dripping out of you like the sweet sap from trees. They drip down between each knuckle, messing up his calloused hands, but he couldn’t care less. However, while you saw selflessness in this moment, he still thinks he’s a selfish boy as he finds himself greedy, needing you like never before. 

With every thrust of his fingers, he feels the tips of them touch that spongy spot inside of you. And you make the sweetest of sounds, a noise that’d have sailors out at sea captivated. Your head’s thrown back, hair falling past your shoulders as your back’s arched and accentuating your breasts. He’s got your sports bra pushed up, revealing your round breasts as they gently bounce as you bounce on his digits. His lips have found home in the juncture of your neck, kissing down your jaw and to that sweet spot on your neck, making your juices continue to pour out of you. 

He’s still a selfish man, wanting for you to stay like this if he can get the opportunity to forever make amends and have you look this beautiful as he makes you feel good. Your walls would clench around his fingers every once in a while, a quick spasm notifying that he’s succeeding. There’s a soft squelch sounding in the air, the stench of you intermingling as well as Gojo’s pre stains his underwear and probably have long seeped to his sweats. However, there’s more worrying things to stress about. 

Your mouth falls open into an ‘O’ as your eyes flutter shut, your heat pulsating in alert as you feel Gojo’s fingers quicken its pace. You hear him curse, fuck, alongside you as your cries are soft. Legs tensing up as his free arm wraps around the expanse of your hips, he holds you still as you feel that coil inside of you snap. “Gojo, fuuuck—”

You paint his fingers in white, walls spasming around him as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. White dripping down to the seat of the chair before you feel an absence and a sting to your clit, a clap sounding through the dining area of the hotel room. You squeal, a high-pitched sound that makes Gojo’s chest rumble. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you nudge him, hearing him chuckle. You silence his moment of amusement with need, your eyes meeting his beautiful ones as they speak all he needs to know, but still you vocalize it. 

“I need more, Gojo,” you whine, eyebrows knitting together as you tilt your head to the side. “Y’think I’ll forgive you just for your fingers, hm?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“Y’think I’ll forgive you if you continue to fuck me against this table?” It didn’t take him long to scoop you up in his arms, displaying his strength with such ease that it takes away your breath. You go to caress his face, softly telling him, “Good boy.”

Bringing you to the private room, he places you on the bed with a gentleness before climbing over you. Like a dog trained to be loyal and obedient, he waits as he admires your beautiful state. Reaching for the straps of your bra, he pulls you out of it and rids you of your soiled panties. He admires your naked state, eyes taking in every curve and blemish that you have. Absent-mindedly, he sighs, “So beautiful…”

“C’mon,” you coax him closer. “Come and fuck me already.”

Gojo realizes that he’s still completely dressed, doing both of you the favor of shedding himself of his shirt, revealing his well refined body. His body seemed to have been carved by the gods themselves, taking extra time to care for him and make sure that he dazzled every man and woman that walks in his path. And when he pulls down his pants, he reveals his defined thighs and calves as his boxer briefs hugs onto his skin, his erection prominent underneath. You can see the wet patch of his pre, making the white fabric translucent as you see the dusty rose color of his tip. 

Gojo dips, calling the moment to a close as he presses his weight into you. His pelvis bends to meet your soaked core, still stained with your orgasm. Clothed erection rubbing against your sensitive nub and making your body shudder as Gojo kisses along your neck. His hand dips to tug down the hem of his underwear, making his cock jump out in excitement as he cups his balls and guides his length to your sopping pussy. His reddening tip gets needy as he slides his shaft down your folds, lubricating his length in you before aligning himself to your ready entrance. 

Your heart starts racing, feeling just how long he is. You lock eyes with Gojo as you dig your elbows into the bed to meet him for a kiss. Gently, you feel his head nudge open your walls, pressing deep as he enters you. This kiss tastes of longing on Gojo’s behalf, how he inhales you as he pushes inch by inch inside. The warmth of you makes him want to stay like this forever, feeling his balls tighten up as he bottoms out. This kiss is slow as you hear the wetness of your lips against each other as it goes from deep to quick pecks. It’s distracting and confusing you for what this is— a desperate and wrongly executed display of your raw emotions.

No, this is starting to feel like something more. However, you need this. You need to feel this power you have over the man. You need to feel this. So, you take it. Greedy and wanting, the both of you switch places. Though, you fear, you’ve always been a selfish person and Gojo’s starting to unravel that side of you. 

Pulling out of you, only leaving the tip in, the next plunge of his cock is purposeful. Gojo wedges himself deep inside of you, bottoming out inside of you as his hips shimmy. You gasp out, back arching as your breasts press into his chest. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathes, a pathetic sob leaving him as he continues these slow and well-calculated thrusts that force you to feel all of him. Each one spelling out how pathetically sorry he is. “Don’t deserve to be buried deep inside of your cunt.”

Gradually, his thrusts quicken, calling for sweet sobs and mewls to leave your lips. With each drill of his hips, you feel his head kissing that soft spongy spot deep within. Making your toes curl as your legs go to wrap around his waist. Your mind is a fog, but still, you find the will to speak, to say something coherent. “You don’t deserve any part of me. You’re nothing but a greedy piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, and again, he says, “Yeah? How much?”

“So much,” you cry. “I hate you so much. So, so much.”

And soon enough, those three words continue to pour from your lips as Gojo fucks into your wheeping pussy. The wetness sounds and echoes through the room alongside your mixed grunts and moans. You grip onto his biceps, marking up his arms even more as he takes in every call of hatred you make to him. And when you feel that familiar quiver to your cunt, you feel the waterworks coming, your eyes pricking with tears as you sob. And with his thumb, Gojo goes to wipe them away with his thumb. He apologizes incessantly, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

This release is different, making your entire body spasm in his hold as you feel your inner thighs become soaked. Your stomach is coiling as your legs tighten even more. He feels your release against your stomach, the translucent liquid splashing against him as he curses low. He feels the twitch of his cock, pulling his length as he goes to rub at your clit, watching how explosive your second orgasm is. He leaks onto your stomach, white dripping from his tip and making a mess of you. His chest rises and falls as body comes to slowly relax when the last of your juices splatter onto him.

Your body’s exhausted, wasting your tears and energy on a man who doesn’t care. “You tried to kill me, Gojo. I don’t— I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”

Satoru believes he’ll be able to live with that.

─────

GOJO SATORU JUST POSTED ON TIK TOK!

Each and every one of Gojo’s videos were fabricated by this management team, never truly putting in effort into using the app himself. However, he finds himself so warped inside of his mind that he feels like he needs to issue a statement out himself. Without his manager or PR Team knowing themselves. Pressing the button to begin recording, he lets out a sigh. 

“Hello everyone,” he begins. “Truth be told, I haven’t prepared a speech for what I wanted to say because of the recent course of events. I didn’t think I would ever address this, but I think it’s about time that I do.”

He clears his throat. “I want to start off with that article and all the claims that it states against me,” he begins. “I want to confirm that they’re all true.”

Within the course of ten minutes, Gojo believes that he’s spoken his mind and has given out a genuine apology. Giving him some sense of satisfaction as he ends it with, “And because of all the mistakes and misdeeds that I’ve done, I’m going to end my basketball career with this apology as I hope that the people that I’ve hurt can find some solace in it.

“I’m not expecting nor am I asking for your forgiveness,” he sighs. “Just— I just want to do right by someone that I’ve hurt and work on the path of growth. Thanks and goodbye.”

credits ⋆ thanks to my babe, @satoao, for beta-reading over this work. my favorite gojo lover.

subscriptions. @madwomansapologist @sleepynoons @gojosoups @luvvcho @cailliz @celestialceremonials @emyyy007 @gojosnutgobbler @nariminsstuff @emmaleens333 @scurfi @hoelynecujoh @bbyrugou @serafina-nyx @sorilyae @lovelyjkook @alonahh

[kunareads]

mamma mia!

satoru x reader, sukuna x reader, kento x reader

what’s more chaotic than a wedding? try three ex-lovers showing up unannounced because your son is hoping one of them is his father. one minute, you’re struggling to keep your hostel afloat. the next, you’re wrangling old flames like stray cats and wondering how your life turned into a rom-com gone spectacularly wrong.

soooo excited to be part of @indiewritesxoxo's friday night flicks event!! this will be in two parts, with some shorts along the way <3 dividers by @bronzewasp.

please comment for taglist !!!

content: smut, fluff, angst (as usual)! love polygon in some ways, unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, infidelity, miscommunication. each part will have more specific content tags

full masterlist

18+ please <3

part one: dancing queen

part two: super trouper

journal entries ink still drying...

[nonville]

slowly. deeply. the feeling of his lips on yours is near intoxicating. his hands grip your waist, palms spreading across the expanse of your back. he smells so good. deep, rich cologne, but not too overpowering. just like him. he hums in response to your broken whimper when he breaks the kiss to nose at the space between your jaw and neck, shuddering as nanami resumes placing kisses to the skin.

it's times like these where reason seems to fly out of the window. you're both fully clothed, too-panties soaked, and the outline of his cock against you thighs was driving you insane. but the kisses were so consuming. brain melting.

"darling," he muses lowly, and you can feel the smile spreading across his lips when you shudder minutely. "wife. angel. beautiful..."

"kento," you all but sob, and his answering hum against your skin nearly makes you cum on the spot. "ken-kento, please-"

his soft hushing makes you quiet down gradually, placated only by the way his hands smooth down to finally spread your thighs open. as the cold air hits your skin, the two of you groan-you, in anticipation, him, at the sight your arousal clinging your skin.

the sound of him hastily undoing his belt buckle makes you antsy, eager and ready as a big hand comes to rest at your waist. and when he finally slides inside your wet and warm heat, a low groan rumbling in his chest, your pleasure ridden mind swears you hear nanami utter what sounds like prayer.

[reignpage]

♛ Sukuna in Wonderland ♛

"W e ' r e a l l m a d h e r e"

Synopsis: a quest to search for a cursed item in a new world isn't all sunshine and rainbows — you're learning that the hard way. you just want to find what you need to find and get out of here asap. but the mystical universe must hate you because you've been paired with the biggest pain your ass: the one person that can show you up on a test or experiment. well, you won't let him get his way this time. But one question...why is everything in this place freaky? Warnings: 18+ porn with plot, fantasy au, Hogwarts-esque magic system, academic rival!sukuna, mixed with some comedy (there's a lot of self-awareness here), forced proximity, hate sex, exhibitionism, degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, pussy inspection, personification of the puss puss, dumbification, unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation, voyeurism, sex whilst inebriated - dubcon, doggy, cockwarming, slight food play, anal sex, barely proofread Word Count: 17.2k

“Walk faster,” he spits. 

You roll your eyes.

There is nothing worse than being stuck with Ryomen Sukuna for an inter-dimensional quest. Truly. 

When Professor Yaga had breached the news to you, in his office, your jaw dropped. There was absolutely no conceivable way your Intro to Exploration partner is Sukuna. The man is a monster. Truly. He stole your position on Advanced Illusions by burning your application paper, he tripped you up on the Grand Foyer, humiliating you in front of all your peers, and he calls you ‘princess’ in lieu of your actual name. 

He’s the worst. 

“Y/n, he’s your partner and that’s that,” the Professor said. 

Spluttering, you tried to reason with him. “B-but sir! I’ve been looking forward to this trip the whole year — no, all my life! I worked so hard to accumulate enough points on my Exploration licence. I need someone I can trust. Someone who won’t get in the way.”

Your pleadings were falling into deaf ears. The Professor merely sighed and conjured a journal. It fell onto the wooden desk with a mocking thump. 

“Your petty rivalry ceases here.” Leaning forward on his elbows, he fixed you a steady glare. It was so serious, so insistent, you zipped your lips tight. 

“Underland is a Grade A dimension. A place unlike any other. Everything works differently there, and you will indubitably face tasks so dangerous you will either give up your hopes of studying Exploration altogether or you will emerge as the greatest Exploration pupil I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. But all of that depends on whether you can rise to the occasion with the most difficult of partners.”

“B-but…”

That was nice to hear and all. However, you weren’t convinced. Sure, you had been sure to earn enough points to take on the advanced quests because they looked great on applications, but the ‘Underland’ place didn’t sound like anything special. In fact, when you and the others in your class had been briefed by the students in the year above who had gone through the same trial, you didn’t hear any talks about Underland.

You were worried that the dimension you’ve been assigned to was a dud. Just great. 

Meanwhile, Sukuna to your left was more interested in messing with some first year he had spotted, through the window, crossing the meadow. He was using a basic incantation to make the papers fly out of his satchel and scattering it all over the grass. 

Typical. 

When he sensed your judgmental gaze, he leisurely looked back at you, hooded eyes unimpressed even as he flicks his finger around, ensuring those papers continue to flutter in the air and out of the grasp of that poor first year. And then he raised his brow in challenge and drawled, “See something you like, princess?”

You didn’t dare look at him the whole two hours you were there. 

“As you know very well, much is riding on you providing a great performance and returning with the enchanted item. If you want to do a master’s on Exploration and then go on to become an Explorer of the Great Beyond, you will do your best to put aside your petty grievances with Mr. Ryomen, yes?”

Dejected, you nodded reluctantly. 

“Now, please, exert your energy on seeing through this quest. As you know, grades are awarded based on speed and efficiency, among other things. So do be sure to spend less time arguing with your partner and more time seeking out your assigned item. What was it again?”

In a sullen tone, you answered, “A cursed finger.”

“Ah, yes. An ancient and powerful relic. That was my assigned item many, many years ago now. And the faculty have, once again, gone through great lengths to ensure it’s been carefully hidden in Underland to really challenge our top students, so you’ll have your work cut out for you,” he remarked humorously. 

“Great.”

Seemingly pleased enough, the journal flew into the air, whizzing across the room and out the door. Your time was up, and your fate was decided. 

Halfway out of the door, Professor Yaga gave one last musing. “As wonderful as it is to follow instructions to the letter, I do hope Mr. Ryomen’s innovative thinking will rub off on you, just as your discipline will rub off on him. Let it not be wishful thinking, y/n.”

And now here you are. 

Walking through some forest in a new world, wondering where the hell the portal had placed you. From the description the Student Advisors had given you, Underland was much more colourful and interesting than this. Where are the talking animals and the sentient inanimate objects?

“Are we in the right place?” You ask. 

It’s been quite some time now and you’re ashamed to admit that your calves are burning ever so slightly; you ought to exercise more. On the other hand, Sukuna walks ahead of you, hands shoved in his pockets, and not looking the least bit exhausted. It’s as if you’re on two different journeys — you’re trekking somewhere dangerous, mysterious, a place that’s pushing your body to its limits (more or less), and the arrogant dick is taking a lovely stroll down Genesis Park. 

He doesn’t answer your question. Of course not. Because why would he, the great king that he is, bother talking to you?

Prick. 

“Oh!”

Something furry brushes up against your calf. Two sets of eyes follow it. 

“Is that a fucking rat?”

Giving him a deadpan look, you shove him to the side to run after the strange creature, suddenly invigorated. “You’re such an annoying asshole. Hurry up. It might lead us to Underland.”

It is certainly unlike any animal you’ve seen back home. But, having studied all the known forms animals can take across the expansive universe, you aren’t distressed in the slightest to come across such a well-dressed little fella. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

Jogging beside you, your partner scoffs. “‘Excuse me, sir?’ Seriously?”

Merlin, why did it have to be him? 

The rabbit doesn’t slow down. Even as the two of you have caught up right behind him, weaving and meandering around trees and dodging logs and fallen branches. Instead, the little thing continues ahead, peering occasionally at a pocket-watch and muttering, ‘Oh, dear. Oh, dear,’ repeatedly under its breath. 

“Damn. That is one stressed out rat.”

Rolling your eyes once more, you hiss, “It’s a rabbit, Sukuna. Stop fucking around. Try to catch its attention so we can ask it for directions.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re faster.” To punctuate your point, you pant. It’s a little embarrassing to be out of breath already, but in your defence, you’ve never had the time to join athletic clubs. 

Throwing you a look of judgement, likely because of your sweaty state, he jogs a little faster and manages to pick up the rabbit by its waistcoat. It dangles in the air making a face of complete alarm, and dare you say, insult. Sukuna only returns a look of revulsion. Clearly not a fan of animals. Great. 

“How dare you! Put me down at once.”

Snorting, your partner shakes him around. “Nah. Not until you tell us how to get to Underland.”

“Oh, dear. Oh, dear,” the rat— the rabbit mutters. It continues to check its watch in between looking around frantically and attempting to wriggle out of its captor’s grip with no such luck. “Let me go. I cannot be late! The Duchess needs her gloves! Oh! And her fan. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!”

Sukuna fixes you a stare of amusement and says with a smirk, “You didn’t happen to bring dried serenitea powder, did you? ‘Cause this guy could really use some.”

With your lungs full of air once more, you attempt to get somewhere with the local. It’s important that you don’t disrupt the system in any of the places you visit. That’s Section two, Article A of the Harmonious Entry Act. Of course, interacting with the world is permitted but explorers must be respectful at all times. The pink haired guy clearly didn’t get the memo. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n. We’re truly sorry to trouble you. But we really do need directions to Underland so if you could point the way, then we can all go our separate ways.”

The rabbit seems to like you better because he stops wriggling and says, “Oh! I suspect we are heading to the same place. Although we don’t really call it Underland— Oh, never mind. I don’t have time to discuss this any longer. Please put me down and follow me. We must go at once!”

And so, you and your quest partner run with your new friend through the forest and to a large tree. He doesn’t say anything else to you, he simply tumbles faster and adjusts his waistcoat sporadically, long ears twitching in an adorable way. At the tree, there’s a hole. And before you can process what was happening, he’s running inside without so much as a look back. 

“Hey! Wait!”

He doesn’t.

And he’s gone.

The hole is quite big. It’s just about big enough for Sukuna to fit through if he crawls but judging by the look on his face, he’s not exactly eager to get his clothes dirty so soon into the trip. You’re both wearing your uniforms — he wears a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, of course, with a tie and under a lilac jumper, with the deep purple St. Eden blazer hanging off his shoulders. You wear the same on top but with a purple, pink and cream tartan skirt whereas he has on plain cream trousers. 

Being of standard practice, it’s always been important to proudly represent St. Eden on every school sanctioned trip out of its grounds. Sure, it might be wasted on people from worlds that don’t know of St. Eden’s existence, or of any planes of reality beyond their own, but the sentiment is still quite nice. 

You are a student of the finest academy of mystical arts there ever was and there ever will be. The uniform reflects that, which is why you’re just as unenthusiastic about dirtying your clothes as Sukuna is, but you know quite a few enchantments you can use to rid yourself of the inevitable mess; returning to Genesis all filthy would be sufficiently humiliating, after all. 

“Ladies first.” Gulping, you ignore his challenging look, and steel yourself. This is what it means to be an explorer: being dauntless. Anything for the quest, for your dreams and ambitions. 

“Just don’t look up my skirt,” you mutter. 

He scoffs. “Get over yourself. Actually, I’ll go first. Your arrogance is so confounding, I’m irritated.”

If there’s danger in the hole, better he faces it first, you think. So, you don’t fight him on that.

Inside, it’s just as you suspected: a long, hollow tunnel, all dark and seemingly endless. Hearing Sukuna grumble under his breath is quite entertaining, you have to admit. The man was always angry. Even when he was with his friends walking down the hallways, eating in the dining hall, or loitering in the meadows, he was always frowning as if the world had done him some great injustice. 

The only times you ever saw him smile were when he was tormenting someone, whether it be a student, a teacher, or you. 

“Hey, there’s a fucking hole in a hole, watch—“

Shit. 

You bumped your head against his ass. He disappears down a sudden dip in the tunnel. A hole within a hole, just as he said. You grimace, waiting for that telltale thud to echo. It doesn’t. Actually, the only thing you hear is an elongated, ‘you fucking cunt.’

Whoops. 

Trying to stifle your laughter, you fall in headfirst, muttering an enchantment to cushion your fall. Hopefully — or not, either is fine — Sukuna remembered to do the same. 

Oddly, you realise, either this well of sorts is very deep or you’re falling very slowly. Because you find plenty of time to look around your surroundings even with your clothes flying around and you have to hold your skirt down, praying he’s too far down to look up and see something he shouldn’t. The sides of the well are filled with cupboards and bookshelves, there are maps and pictures hung upon pegs. You swear you even see a jar labelled ‘ORANGE MARMALADE’ but it’s empty. 

What is going on?

Who could have possibly hung those up? And why? Was there a larger purpose to it all? It surely can’t be for tourists if none of the displayed items are for sale. There’s no dust you can see so this passage must be used often, just as those books are. 

How big is this planet? Is it small enough to fall right through and end up in an infinite void? No, surely, it’ll get hotter as you near the core, right? You can always drink a protection tonic from your enchanted satchel to be sure, but you don’t want to waste resources. 

You couldn’t find anything about this place in the textbooks. No history, no accounts from other explorers, and certainly nothing about how to actually get into Underland.

Or maybe this isn’t a way in at all!

Maybe the rabbit was so peeved about the indignation he suffered at the hands of Sukuna that he tricked you both. Are people of this land so petty? 

You’ve heard of places where people didn’t lie or harm each other. Why couldn’t Underland be such a place?

Down, down, down you go. There’s nothing else to do but ponder all possibilities. It’s likely you’ve failed the task already. You were rude to a local and now you’re being punished. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. He takes everything from you. He’s even taken this from you. 

“Oh!”

You fall on a huge heap of sticks and dry leaves. The fall is over. Thankfully the enchantment worked well, and you aren’t the least bit hurt. Sukuna stands above you, brushing leaves from his clothes, even more pissed than before. He glares at you. 

“Thanks for literally kissing my ass. Had a great time falling, by the way.” 

Ignoring him, you look around the place. The rabbit’s no longer anywhere to be seen. And you’ve found yourself in a low hall, lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the ceiling. It reminds you somewhat of the halls of St. Eden. There are doors all-round the hall and when you begin muttering a door-opening spell, you’re interrupted by a scoff. 

“Don’t bother. I already checked. They’re all locked.”

“Did you check that, though?”

He follows your pointing finger to a three-legged table at the end of the hallway. Upon closer inspection, you see it’s made of solid glass and there’s nothing on it except a tiny, golden key. Flicking a finger, you lift the key up and attempt to slot it into every lock but to no avail. They were either too large or too small.

“That wasn’t there before” Sukuna asserts, still slightly annoyed. “Neither was that.”

There, a couple metres away, is a curtain, which you agree, wasn’t there before. You know by the tilt of his head that he thinks this place is weird. You’re inclined to agree. Behind the curtain is a door and the key slots in perfectly. You share a smile with him, which drops barely even a second later. He clears his throat. 

Kneeling on the floor, you look through that small door and see a garden. It’s lovely with beds of bright flowers and fountains. It’s not as great as any green space in Genesis but it’s better than this miserable dark hall. 

Sighing, you stand up. “We can’t fit through that. Do you remember any enlargement spells? I didn’t bring a biggening tonic ‘cause the Student Advisors didn’t say to.”

He fixes you a blank stare. Oh, right. He’s not even carrying anything with him. Classic. 

What was he even thinking venturing to a foreign place without any of the recommended items? Not a vial of invisibility, a language-adapting elixir, Grimoire of Spells All Travellers Need Volume I to VI, not even a bottle of water. He’s useless. And to think Professor Yaga genuinely believed he has something to teach you. Please. 

“Quit judging me, prissy princess. I don’t need textbooks. Everything I need is in my head. And in any case, look. There’s something on the table. And it wasn’t there before. What kind of fucked up magic system do they have here? Shit’s just appearing out of nowhere for no goddamn reason.” 

You pay his grumbling no mind.

On the table, is a little bottle. Around its neck is a paper label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ written quite beautifully. And on the back, in small writing, appears to be instructions. “It says, ‘To get out, drink this. Share with your companion.’”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening. If I get food poisoning, I’m gonna kill everyone here.”

Hissing, you argue, “That’s not funny, Sukuna. We have no choice since you didn’t bring anything.”

“Well, then, by all means, go fucking ahead.”

The Explorer’s Guide to Otherworldly Travel advises against consuming food from unfamiliar places. One, they may not sit well in your stomachs, and two, they could be poisoned; not all places deal well with foreign interference. 

Well, anyways, down the hatch it goes.

“Woah, don’t actually drink it, idiot,” he chastises you, but it’s too late. In one pour, it’s in your mouth. All of it. Your eyes are wide. You hadn’t meant to drink the whole thing. Thank Merlin you didn’t swallow immediately. “Good going, idiot. Now what?”

Muffled, you make sounds of panic and attempt to say through a mouthful of the mysterious drink, “Quick. Do something.”

All you see is an eye roll and a frustrated brush of his hair before he smashes his face to yours. You’re taken aback by the feel of his firm hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you still, and even more shocked by the softness of his lips. That softness disappears instantly, however, when his tongue plunges inside your mouth and the drink pools from yours to his. 

He pulls away, swallowing, and sees the wideness of your eyes. Grunting, he mutters something to himself before you feel his tongue lick up the errant drop of juice on your chin. 

Your lips tingle. And then they stop when he hastily wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his blazer. 

The drink doesn’t burn and you’re not feeling odd. It tastes quite nice, actually. Like a mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pineapple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast. Oddly, you want more. 

“Fuck.”

You look up at Sukuna. And you blink. The hall had grown. The table is metres tall and the door to the garden is suddenly big enough to get through. No, wait. You’re smaller. So is he. 

You’ve shrunk. 

“This is weird as hell.”

Sukuna suddenly laughs. And it’s a sound you’re completely repulsed by. You’ve only ever heard him laugh like that when he was making someone’s life miserable, and so to hear it in any other context is off-putting. Especially as your lips continue to tingle.

Silently, you make a note to yourself — drinks in Underland can resemble potions in Genesis, where they have the ability to transform the body into something else. You do wonder, however, how things appear out of nowhere with seemingly no conjurer in sight. Energy is transferred and controlled; it doesn’t have a mind of its own. This place is growing curiouser and curiouser by the minute.

Now, just to get out of this place. 

“Shit. The key.”

Shooting you a mocking look, your quest partner walks ahead to the door and fishes out something from his pocket. “Relax. Wasn’t dumb enough not to hold onto it. Come on. We gotta find that damn finger. And the faster the better. I’m already growing tired of this damn place.”

And out of the darkness you left. 

——————

“We’re lost.”

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. This place’s all turned around.”

For the past hour, you two had been wandering around yet another forest searching for —well, anything. And nothing is what you’ve stumbled upon. As interesting as the different coloured leaves are, you can’t spend your time appreciating the forage. 

With every passing moment you sense Sukuna getting more and more irritated. He walks a brisk pace ahead of you, and all your attempts to catch up and stroll beside him are ignored in favour of walking faster. You knew the guy couldn’t stand you, but this is just another level. Everything about him is so unprofessional. For one, his shirt is untucked, and his hair is all roughed up and messy. Two, he curses far too often by anyone’s standards. And three, he can’t even pretend to get along with you for the sake of this quest. 

There’s no way you’re going to maintain your perfect record of A’s and it’ll all be because of the arrogant prick. The one consolation you have is that he’s coming down with you on your fall. 

“I can’t sense the finger’s cursed energy at all,” you mutter, slightly anxious. 

He side-eyes you and then shoves his hands in his trousers. “Relax. Quests, on average, take a week to complete. Of course, if we could complete it in much less, that’d be ideal but we’re not in a rush right now.”

“I know that. Don’t mansplain this to me.”

The eye roll he gives you is especially scathing. Typical. You two only ever seemed to look at each other just to exercise your eyes a little. Even when your gazes meet across a lecture hall one would make a face and the other scowls. It’s routine. You’ve long since convinced yourself to not let it bother you, but you won’t lie, many nights have been spent scouring the archives for a spell on how to swap someone’s asshole for their mouth. 

In the distance, there’s a clearing and a house. 

You smack him in the chest. He groans. “I fucking saw it. You didn’t need to hit me, idiot.”

On the door of the neat little house is a bright brass plate with the name “W. Rabbit,” engraved upon it. Sharing a look, you know you’ve both come to the same conclusion: you might just run into a familiar face.

Raising a hand to knock, you hear a scoff before the door’s being spelled open and Sukuna pushes past you. Even in a different dimension, he’s still a bitch. You don’t even bother to tell him off for trespassing, it seems he’d been looking forward to terrorising the inhabitants of this world long before he stepped foot here. 

“You don’t think the professors hid the finger here, do you?”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually replies, “Nah. Too easy. This is a Grade S plane and we’re advanced students. It would never be this straightforward. I reckon they’re trying to lead us around, encouraging us to become one with nature or some shit.”

Can’t argue with that. 

“So why are we here? It’s not like the rabbit’s home; we can’t ask him if he’s noticed anything out of the ordinary recently.”

Admiring the paintings on the wall, Sukuna’s response comes out a little distracted when he says, “We need a map, idiot. We can’t just keep walking everywhere hoping for the best.”

Flustered over him one-upping you, you don’t entertain his callous tone and instead you walk around. The little house is nice. It’s cozy and homely. Somewhat messy and untidy but you aren’t really surprised considered how neurotic the rabbit appeared upon first meeting, the poor thing. 

You find yourself in a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves. This must have been what the rabbit was looking for but if they’re still here that means you beat him to it. Where had he gone that two outsiders would stumble upon his home faster than he would himself?

“What’s this?”

There, near a looking-glass, is a bottle. It’s similar to the one in the hallway with all the doors but this one doesn’t have a label with the words ‘DRINK ME’ and instructions. Guess this one isn’t for drinking. Or maybe it is?

Maybe this is a trick. 

What if the professors had placed these odd concoctions here? It can’t possibly be a coincidence that two drinks would appear all perfectly bottled after all, right?

Biting your lip, you contemplate what to do with it. It’s a terrible risk to take but it could pay off. It’d be great if you could get a leg up over Sukuna, even if you succeed together as partners, if he somehow found the cursed finger before you, you’d never be able to live with yourself. You just can’t let him have any more justifications for his arrogance. 

Fuck it.

Uncorking it, you put the rim to your lips and smell. There’s no immediate suspicious scent, like the bitter smell of poison. That’s a good sign. You know something interesting is sure to happen whenever you drink anything here, so you’ll just have to see what this bottle does. You hope it’ll make you large again, because even though you’ve only just adjusted to the world here, you’re quite tired of being such a tiny little thing. 

Maybe you can even step on Sukuna and pass it off as an accident. 

The thought makes you smile. And without even thinking, you’ve already drunk half the bottle. 

Watching your limbs, you wait for a change to occur. Nothing happens. You haven’t grown taller or shorter. Slightly disappointed, you place the bottle back down and stagger to a window. 

“It’s hot in here,” you mutter. 

You’re a little dizzy and out of breath. It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and when you push the panes out, you take desperate gulps of air. 

“Fuck are you up to?” Unsurprised by his sudden appearance, you don’t turn. Instead, you continue to pant. You feel itchy everywhere. “Oi, don’t ignore me.”

Quiet mumblings come out of your mouth.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You’re panting like a damn dog.”

Prick. 

“Shit, did you drink that? You’re a fucking idiot. What kind of logic are you operating under? Are you trying to sabotage us? No, wait, ha! You were trying to sniff out a clue, weren’t you? What’d you think was gonna happen? You’d find the finger all by yourself and then ditch me? Nice fucking try.”

He never shuts up, but you can’t tell him to shove his accusations, accurate as they are, up his ass. Head thumping against the wood, you grip the windowpane tight, fearful you’ll fall over. You’re not yourself right now. The drink did something to you. 

A hand presses itself to your forehead. It’s hot and your lashes flutter. “Fuck. Talk to me.”

“Mary Ann! Mary Ann! Fetch me my gloves this moment!” Light pattering of feet can be heard on the stairs. Through the haze of your sudden light-headedness, you know it to be the rabbit, though you know not who this ‘Mary Ann’ is. You tremble. 

The pattering is inside the room and an aghast sound reaches your ears. Sukuna gathers you up in his arms, grunting when your head lolls to his chest. He smells like sin, and you hate it. 

“W-what are you doing here? Goodness, this is my home! I say, get out this instant.”

Darkly, your partner asserts, “Not happening until you tell me what the fuck that drink was and why she’s like this.”

“You drank that? Oh, dear. W-well, that is not my concern. You wandered in here and did as you please. It is your fault. Now leave. Please, old fellow.”

Dropping even lower, you barely recognise Sukuna’s voice. “You didn’t hear me? If you don’t fix her, I’ll roast you on a spit and chew you up.”

What is he even saying? He can’t do that. It’s illegal. He’d be shunned from St. Eden and by the whole of Genesis. Oh, right. He’s bluffing. You laugh against his jumper. He sure does sound convincing. 

“My! You must withhold your threats. You needn’t be so angry. Your friend, Y/n, if I remember correctly, will be just fine…eventually.”

“How long is eventually?”

The rabbit makes some noise you can’t decipher, and he coyly answers, “Two weeks or so.” And then he splutters, gasps and coughs. “Put me down! Ah! No, good fellow, you must calm down! She can be cured faster!”

You sure do hope Sukuna isn’t misusing his abilities to literally shake out the information he wants out of the poor thing, but you know, without looking, that’s exactly what he’s doing. This can’t possibly be what Professor Yaga meant by ‘innovative thinking.’ Or if it was, then you seriously need to consider idolising another teacher.

Without needing further prompting, the rabbit mumbles the secret. You don’t hear it, but you do hear the door click shut and an abrupt swear word hiss out of Sukuna’s mouth. He throws you down on an armchair and kneels down.

“What’re you doing?” You slur.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he reluctantly makes eye contact with you. “The rat said the effects wear off once your limbs tense up and you shake out the numbness in your body. Shit doesn’t fucking make sense but nothing in this goddamn place does so, do you consent or what?”

Firm hand gripping your knee, he parts your thighs. Heat rises up your face and you can’t argue with him — you don’t even have the energy to kick him in the face for alluding something so ridiculous. There’s no way he’s suggesting the cure is an orgasm, is he?

“N-no,” you breathe out, “we can’t.”

Grunting, he reminds you, “We have to. We can’t wait two weeks. That’ll be way too late, and we’ll fail the fucking quest. And that’s if your body is anything like theirs. It could take longer and I’m not staying here longer than I have to. So, you gonna let me make you cum or you just gonna fuck up our grades?”

This is crazy. 

“I’ll do it myself. Get out.”

Sukuna blows frustrated air out of his nose and brushes his hair back. He’s growing impatient. Snatching an arm up, he waves the limp limb in front of your face. It flails embarrassingly. 

“You can’t do shit in this state. Don’t be difficult. Let’s just get this over with.”

“F-fine,” you acquiesce and then hurriedly add, “but just your hand, okay?”

And that is all he needs. 

Through the haze, you feel cold air blow over your core when your panties are pulled off your legs. There isn’t even any time for embarrassment before long fingers are pushing your slit apart and a thumb is circling your clit with expert navigation. 

“Talk me through it. Tell me how you like your pussy played with.”

Why does he sound like that? 

Raspy and with a chocolatey smooth timbre, you can’t focus on your breathing when you can feel the vibrations of his words on your skin. Everything is constrained — your clothes feel suffocating, your body is heavy, and his spare hand is keeping your legs wide open. He can see everything and there isn’t a hint of shame on his face when he leans in closer and presses down harder on your clit. 

You moan. 

“Like that. I like it like that.”

“Yeah?”

Humming, you watch him watch you. 

His heated gaze slides from between your legs to your eyes, searching for any sign that this is working, that the extra gravity on your body will go away and you’ll go back to normal. And you can feel it working too. Can feel your fingers twitch, aching to grip his wrist and urge him away or to go faster, you can’t tell anymore.

A grunt leaves his lips. “You’re fucking soaked. You think you ready to take my fingers?”

No answer comes from you, only a whimper. And that is good enough for him, so he shoves two fingers inside, to the hilt, and wastes no time in curling them against that soft spot inside you.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right.” He laughs, breathlessly. “You’re crazy tight. You always like this or is that the damn drink?”

In and out and in and out. Sukuna is pumping his fingers inside of you, feeling your ridges and thumbing your clit. They feel great, even when you wish they didn’t. They’re long and nimble, but thick and filling. Manoeuvring inside your pussy as if they’ve been there before, as if it’s their second home, moans are being wrenched out of you.

“Watch the nails, idiot.”

Your eyes open — you didn’t even realise they had shut— and you notice your hand has loosened enough to clutch his wrist, digging into his skin, and pulling him closer. So so so close. Just a little more. Just one more push and you’ll be rid of the adverse effects of the stupid drink. 

“You’re much more tolerable with your pretty pussy plugged than when you’re free to nag my ear off,” he mutters.

And you cum. 

——————

“Those are some fuck ass mushrooms.”

They are, indeed. But you don’t voice your agreement. In fact, since walking away from that little house and that very angry rabbit, you haven’t said a word to him at all. You don’t even look at him. 

You can’t.

What transpired in that house was wrong. Completely wrong. It was unprofessional, unethical, and shameful. To think, you had been so competitive that you drank some unknown drink just to get ahead was one thing. To have made your expedition partner finger you to completion?

Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.

Not that Sukuna seems to mind — he’s acting like normal. He snarked about how weird this world was, how the sandwiches you packed are shit and he misses the canteen food on campus (he still ate it all), and he made fun of you when you tripped over a rock. You’re a little hurt, but you don’t dare dwell on that for too long. 

Now, you two are staring at large mushrooms, about the same height as you are, all different, with wacky colours and more importantly, you’re staring at a gigantic caterpillar by your world’s standards, and you have to remind yourself it isn’t that the creatures here are big but rather that you have grown small. 

The caterpillar, oddly, is sitting on top of a mushroom, a pair of arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and not taking the faintest notice of either of you or of anything else. 

“Is that a chain-smoking worm? Fushiguro owes me money, ha.” Sukuna sounds quite pleased.

Then, when its eyes met yours, it took the hookah out of its mouth and addresses you in a languid, sleepy voice. “Who are you?”

“Hi, sir,” You begin nervously, “we’re travellers from another world, you see.”

“No, I don’t see,” says the caterpillar. 

You meet Sukuna’s amused stare. He’s content to let you take the reins on this one, clearly. Merlin, he’s useless. “I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly, especially not when we’ve had quite the day; it’s all been so very confusing.”

“It isn’t.”

Frowning, you try again. “I assure you; it has been. But that is neither here nor there. We’d just like to ask if you’ve noticed anything strange. Maybe other travellers like us? Or an odd energy about the place? A finger more specifically.”

“A finger? I have many. We all have fingers.”

Sukuna snorts. You feel heat rise to your face. And he finally steps in. 

“Listen, forget whatever she just said. Tell us how to get bigger. Being like three inches tall is a pain.”

The caterpillar rears itself upright and says angrily, “Three inches is a very good height to be!”

Okay, so clearly, you’re not going to get anywhere with the worm— caterpillar. At least not with those two being argumentative creatures. So, stepping in between them, you ask, being sure to sound extra polite, “Are these mushrooms edible? They wouldn’t, by any chance, help in making us grow taller, would they?”

Calming down, the thing takes the hookah out of its mouth, yawns once or twice, and shook itself. It comes down from the mushroom and crawls away in the grass, remarking merely as it goes, “Eat. And eat from each other. You will grow. Or don’t and you won’t.”

But before you can ask what the hell he meant, it’s already out of sight. 

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Sukuna growls. “Eating shit clearly isn’t a good idea so don’t go chomping on mushrooms.”

“But we have to grow taller. You really think we can return to Genesis at this height?”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “You gonna trust a worm? Knew you weren’t all right in the head when you substituted silver-beetle for the bronze one in first year, but this is just another level of idiocy, seriously.”

“Merlin, shut up! I was trying something new. The textbook said it ‘recommends’ you use silver-beetle, but it never said to only use silver-beetle. I was trying to be innovative.”

You get an eyeroll. “That’s not your fucking style, is it? You’re a rule-follower, a goody-two-shoes. You don’t trial new things.”

“Yeah, not since then. When it quite literally blew up in my face and I was made the laughingstock of our potions class. But I was just…”

Regretting letting your emotions get the best of you before you say something undeservedly vulnerable, you shut your mouth. But your partner isn’t blind or stupid. He saw that. He heard it. And the guy is a pest. 

“Finish your sentence.” You press your lips tighter together. He steps into your space and when you don’t look at him, he grabs your face and smooshes your cheeks, glaring down at you. “You were just what?”

Words muffled, you reluctantly, and with a lot of shame and embarrassment, admit, “I just wanted to be more like you. You always try new things. Even back then. You did something different the week before. Using moonflower oil instead of nightbane and you were applauded for your so-called ‘genius.’ No one’s ever done that for me.”

Sukuna stays silent for a minute and then he groans. His hand, and his heat, leaves for just a second and then the next, something is being shoved in your mouth and once again, you’re ingesting something you really shouldn’t but there doesn’t seem to be any other choice. 

The mushroom doesn’t really taste of much and there aren’t any sudden changes. You watch him chew, observing his body for anything out of the ordinary and nothing. 

“If you feel off, even just a little, say something, alright?”

You nod. 

“I don’t feel different at all. Was he just messing with us? You don’t think he took actual offence to the height comment, do you?” 

Time is passing and you don’t have a clue whether Underland’s time and Genesis’ are compatible. What if a month and passed within a day here? 

Getting this quest done in a week gets you a C, getting it done within two days is an A, but finishing in a month or longer would be a fail. No, it’d be worse than a fail. You’ll be humiliated. All your chances of pursuing this as a career will be over before you could even really try. 

“Now what?”

Sukuna throws a glance at you and then he shrugs. “Guess we gotta keep moving. Can’t sense the finger here so we shouldn’t stick around too long. I’d ascend and scan the area for the direction but since I’m the size of a fucking pinkie, I’d use up more energy than I can afford.”

“Wait. The caterpillar said something about eating from each other, didn’t he?”

“Dunno. Wasn’t really listening.”

Ignoring that, you continue, “What’d you think he meant by that?”

“Cannibalism?” 

You shoot him an unimpressed look. That couldn’t have possibly been what he meant, and even if it was, the casual way in which he said that puts you on edge. Cannibalism is not a standard practice, it’s not a practice at all, except for maybe a few groups of people in the far reaches of the worl— No. Stop. Don’t entertain his ridiculous ideas. 

Think. 

The drink that made you small. The instructions had been similar. ‘Share with your companion.’ At first, you thought you made the mistake of taking too big a gulp, but you were sure you didn’t. You’d never be so stupid. And that led him to kiss you. You quite literally shared with your companion. And then the drink from the rabbit’s house. That slowly paralysed your body, and the cure was to push your muscles to its limits. 

No. It really was an orgasm. It wasn’t just one way to make your muscles tense, it was the way, that’s why the rabbit knew to leave and give you two space. 

In a world where things appear and disappear conveniently, things out of order actually do have purpose. None of it was a coincidence. 

“Sukuna.”

He kicks a mushroom absentmindedly and assesses the height from where he stands and all the way up to where he needs to be to get a clear picture of the land. “What?”

“You need to eat me out.”

There’s a pause. A palpable silence so thick it could be cut with a knife. If you listen closely enough, you’re sure you can hear the creaking of his neck as he slowly turns his head back towards you. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite decipher but you imagine it’s something similar to confusion, disbelief and a ‘you’re fucking kidding.’

“If you’re horny,” he begins, exasperation lacing his words like he’s talking to a child, “go deal with it yourself. I’m not your walking rattletoy.”

Shuffling on your feet, you reassert, “No, I’m serious. I think that’s what the caterpillar meant. He said we need to eat the mushrooms and then we need to eat from one another. Through some weird logic, I can only guess he means that to activate the enlargement effect of the mushrooms it must be ingested from bodily fluids.”

“No fucking way. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Nothing in this world does!” You yell.

It isn’t like you want this to happen. This is humiliating beyond speech. When your friends ask how your first quest went down, you’re never going to be able to tell them the full truth. This will be a secret you take to your grave. And if you have to kill him once you get the finger to keep this shame a secret, you’ll do it without a moment’s thought.

Pinching his nose bridge, Sukuna growls out, “If I eat you out, I’ll grow faster and you won’t even be able to reach my fucking dick so you’ll stay that height. And I’m not gonna carry you around in my pocket whilst I do all the work.”

An idea comes to you. 

You grimace. “Well…”

“No. Absolutely fucking not.” He sees you inch closer to him, eyeing his belt and he steps back. “This is insane. Get the fuck away from my crotch.”

Once in his face, his body backed up against a mushroom leaving him nowhere to run, you whisper, embarrassed, “We have to try. We’ll be able to cover more ground when we’re bigger and we can’t afford to waste time. We have absolutely no clue where that cursed finger is and we’re at a loss, Sukuna. I need to complete this quest. So do you…please?”

“Ah, fuck.”

That’s all he says before you’re being pulled to the ground and flipped around. Facing the crotch you’d been eyeing before, you take this as a sign to unbuckle his belt, zip down his fly, and fish his cock out of his boxers. He’s big. Huge. It’s scary. 

Veins scale up his long length, leading you to his angry-red tip. And the carpet does not match the drapes. How interesting. But more than that…his cock is delicious looking. Something about it looks like it’d devour you whole instead of the other way around, and you lick your lips at the challenge.

A finger feels your slit through the gusset of your panties and a warm breath fan over it. You shiver. 

“Didn’t think I’d see her again,” he mutters.

Somewhat uncomfortable by this entire thing, you get to work. Licking a stripe from base to tip, you familiarise yourself with the smell, feel, and taste of him. He’s very musky in the best way. Like salt and danger. He’s rock-hard, hot and you need to lick him again. 

Not one to be shown up, Sukuna palms the globes of your ass from under your skirt and then flips it over. He wastes no time in diving forward just as those firm, calloused hands pull you down onto his face. Merciless lips suck at your clit through your soaked panties, making slurping sounds that you really do not want to be hearing. 

When you suckle on his tip, he hisses. “Go gently at first, idiot. Not a fucking lollipop. And put those hands to good use. Jerk me off and play with my balls.”

So fucking bossy. You have half a mind to tell him to get over himself but you need him to cum faster so you can get this over and done with. So, you fondle his heavy balls, venturing up and down his length with your hand as you hollow your cheeks and take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck yeah. Always been a good student, haven’t you?”

As if to reward you, he pushes your panties to the side and feasts on your dripping cunt with no reservations. You can hear the shameless squelches he’s making, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, to embarrass you, to rub it in your face how wet you’ve gotten for him, for someone you supposedly hate.

“Look how sloppy you are. Ha!” He spreads your lips apart, blowing cool air right into your pulsing hole. “She wants my -hngh yeah keep going- fingers. Almost feel bad to tell her -ha- she can’t have it. N-need her to leak all her juices out so I can drink it up. Be a good girl and feed me good, yeah?”

Your legs lock around his head, shaky and sweaty. Sukuna is sucking your clit like a vacuum, using two fingers to spread your wetness around your inner thighs, painting them. And the way his big hands are digging into your flesh, claiming you, is driving you crazy. Your hips begin shaking, grinding itself on his mouth just as you bob your head up and down his cock, eager to make a mess of him too. 

“Sukuna! You’re being too -ngh!- rough” 

He snickers and the vibrations make your eyes roll back. “She likes it. Hear how wet she is?”

Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!

“Pussy tastes so good. So fucking sweet can’t believe it’s yours. Maybe you should be as nice as your cunt is to me. We’d get along much better.”

If you thought he was the worst before, now you think he’s a completely irredeemable bastard. He’s no gentleman. He doesn’t treat you with respect or care, he’s just using you as his personal entertainment. As if he can hear your thoughts and wants to prove you right, he braces himself and begins to fuck your throat just as his fingers thrust inside your wet canal. 

You’re being jostled around by his monstrous whims and there’s nothing you can do but hold on tight as you feel that tsunami of pleasure rising and rising. 

“Y’know,” he mutters, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, “no one -ha- applauds you for your -shit that’s good- g-genius ‘cause they just expect it from you, right? Don’t gotta have a -oh fuck your mouth’s tight- a-a complex over it. Don’t need to prove a thing. Just gotta cum. Can you do that? Can you be a good little princess and cum for me?”

Everyone knows you’re good at following instructions. 

Mere seconds apart, you both cum. Hot, salty cum laced with his magical essence floods your mouth. It burns its way down your bruised and battered throat until all you can see and hear is how good he sounds when he groans your name out. 

“Oh fuck! Sukuna!” He won’t stop lapping up your juices, thumbing your clit and shoving his fingers inside. Even through his orgasm, he’s dragging yours out, pulling waves and waves of pleasure from your body like he can’t get enough. “S-stop! No more!”

Overstimulated from his relentless sucking and licking, you climb off of him and fall down on the grass, cupping your poor pussy, still soaked and spasming. 

There, you both catch your breath. 

So delirious, you don’t even notice you’ve grown much taller, towering over the mushrooms and you’re back to your original size. That wasn’t supposed to be as good as it was. It wasn’t supposed to feel mind-blowing. And you really shouldn’t be wanting more. 

“Did you mean what you said? About me being smart?”

He’s the first to get up. “I may be a lot of things, all negative in your eyes I’m sure, but I’m not a liar. Meant it when I said you’re smart and you shouldn’t try so hard.”

You meet his gaze and something in your eyes must strike him deep because he scoffs and mumbles an enchantment, conjuring a handkerchief that gets to work between your legs. 

“Also meant it when I said your pussy’s sweet. You get an A from me. Should stop by my dorm whenever you’re bored.”

Aaaaaand he’s back.

You throw his handkerchief, all wet from your juices, in his face. Irritated by his arrogance, you fix your skirt and wipe the sweat from your forehead on your sleeve and then you fly yourself up, searching for the next place to go where the finger might be. 

This isn’t personal. This is just for the quest. He knows that and so do too.

——————

“I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

Having seen a path along to a castle, you led your partner to where the gravel began and followed it up. It was on that very path that you ran into an odd creature. A cat with a grin so wide you were immediately put off. No words were exchanged but with just one look at each other, you knew better than to engage any further with the odd inhabitants of this curiouser and curiouser Underland. 

It would have been a great plan, meander and keep an eye out for anything odd, any sign that your teachers had been here, looking for an appropriate place to hide the finger, except…

The damn cat kept following you. 

Sukuna blew a gust of wind at it, but it disappeared before it could hit a tree. And then it reappeared with the same shit-eating grin. Then, sensing that he was going get even more aggressive, you attempted to converse with your new companion against your better judgement. 

“Hi. We’re travellers in search of….an item our teachers have hidden here. You wouldn’t have happened to see something odd recently, have you? Maybe other travellers or a strange glow?”

Purring, it blinked and grinned wider. “Why, yes, I have.”

“Oh, great. Would you tell us please which way we ought to go from here?”

The cat said, “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.”

And Sukuna piped up. “We don’t have a destination in mind—“

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.”

“—as long as we get to wherever the finger is.”

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Sukuna snatched your hand and dragged you away, very clearly fed up. Neither of you mentioned the cat that kept popping up along the trail, grinning and occasionally humming, nor the fact that your hand was still firmly held in your partner’s grip. 

You made the mistake of looking at the cat and saw that its mischievous eyes were on your intertwined hands and then the shyness in your face. Its grin grew wider. 

Eventually, a dreaded scene appeared: a fork in the road. Of course, neither of you knew where to go and asking the cat was out of the question for, he surely would have toyed with you back and forth, up and down, and side to side until you either grew too dizzy to string logical thoughts or you grew so frustrated you march ahead, leaving it up to chance. 

Tapping his foot, Sukuna seemed to be weighing his options, and it was somewhat endearing, especially when he subconsciously brushes his thumb against your knuckles whilst deep in thought.

The cat said, “I could point you in the right direction. For a price.”

“No fucking way,” your partner growled. “Knowing this fucked up place, it’s gonna be something sick and perverted.”

“Let’s just hear him out.” Turning to the innocently smiling cat, you asked, “What’s the price?”

POOF!

It appeared right in front of you, suspended in the air. As if walking on a platform, it trots around your heads, tail slithering across your necks, and whispers, “A Hatter lives in one direction and a March Hare in another. To find out which is the right direction, you’ll have to put on a show, just for me.”

“Fat fucking chance. We’ll try our luck, dumb cat.”

Pulling on his hand, you argued, “This is our first real lead, Sukuna. We can’t pass it up.”

His nostrils flared. He wasn’t happy but he knew you had a point. 

“Fuck, alright. Oi, cat. How do we know you even saw shit? You could just be making it up.”

“Oh, well, I saw two people wearing your clothes —ugly things by the way— carrying a glass box with a finger. They spoke of a quest and tests and marks. Very tedious, I thought. But they sounded curious and so I followed them down one of these paths.”

Well fuck, you thought.

So, he was telling the truth. Sukuna understood the implications, but he looked conflicted. Maybe he wasn’t keen on the possibility of having to do more perverse things with you, and you have to admit, you couldn’t blame him. Despite his horrible attitude, he had still gone above and beyond to help you. If your partner had been anyone else, you would have been stuck here for weeks. 

“Sukuna.” You tugged your hand out of his grip and bit your lip. “We should split up, that way we can cover more grou—“

His glare cut you off. “No. Splitting up is dumb, idiot. Who knows what kinda dangers lurk around this place? And in any case, we need to return at the same time to complete the quest. So, cat, name your price and stay true to your fucking words, or else I’ll kill you and wear your tail as a tie.”

Spinning in the air, the cat grinned. 

“Wonderful!”

And then it poofed onto a tree branch, getting itself all nice and cozy before it languidly blinked and demanded, “Show the pretty lady how you like to feel good.”

That it brings us to now when Sukuna snarls, “I’m gonna rip your stupid fucking head off.”

“Yeah, I actually agree with him. We can’t do that!”

The cat makes a gesture a lot like a shrug and began to disappear before the man beside you curses under his breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. How long do I have to keep going for?”

“Why, until the very end, of course.”

You’re gobsmacked. Truly. Your jaw is slack, and it falls down even further when for the second time today, Sukuna throws his blazer and jumper to the side, leaving him in a wrinkled white button-up, the sleeves of which he rolls up, and then finally, he unbuckles his belt. The sound of metal clinking makes you flinch. His semi-hard cock comes out. Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still packing something significant. It’s yet another thing you hate him for. 

His eyes meet yours before he sighs and throws his head back, muttering some kind of mantra to himself. It’s bad enough that you’re watching but a mean cat is here too — you can’t even imagine how uncomfortable your partner must be. 

“This place is fucked. Why do the Supremes even allow it to exist? Merlin be warned, I’m snitching about the depravities of this forsaken place as soon as we get back.”

Yet, his huge hand wraps around the base and he gives himself a couple pumps before he spits into his palm and rubs the head. You can’t look away, not even because you’re not allowed to but because fuck, he looks good. With one hand, he loosens his tie, showing off the well-defined veins in his muscular arm.

“The fucking cat better not be lying or I’ll burn it alive.”

Up, down, up, down and up, around the head, thumbing the slit, and then down again. He starts off slow, heavy breaths pushed out of his lungs, gradually increasing his pace and you swear you can feel each pump into your pussy.

“I hate this fucking place,” he growls out.

Growing frustrated with the white shirt getting in the way, he curses under his breath and lifts up the hem to bite on it, exposing his toned torso. The muscles there tense with his exertion and despite his age, you sense the strength that courses through his veins, imbuing his body with terrifying prowess. 

You’ve seen that very body bulldoze students in the hallway, wrangle beasts from all corners of reality, and have felt it grip you today. “Fuck, quit staring so hard.” 

You mutter an apology but he’s not listening, he’s focused on the way your eyes can’t stick to one place to look at and that spurns him on, thumb pressing into his slit with a hiss and spreading the pre cum down his length.  

Even the way he treats his own dick is unforgiving. His pace is rhythmic and elegant but also just plain mean. When your eyes flutter at the intensity in his, roving over your features, dropping for just a second down to the hem of your skirt where your skin is exposed before rising to your face again. Red tints the tips of his ears and he curses again like he had been caught. 

An hour passes, or maybe mere seconds, but you forget all about the cat and the quest and the fact that you’re supposed to hate him. Though, you can always count on Sukuna to remind you — with practically no shame, he fishes out something from his pocket. It’s the handkerchief he used to clean you earlier. 

Not having to spend a single moment wondering why he’s got it or what he’s going to do with it, the man presses it up to his nose and inhales deeply. So deeply, in fact, you see his eyes roll back.

“You sure love to stare at me, don’t ya? You -ngh- do it all the time during lectures and even across the meadows. Just can’t help yourself, can you? Always so damn inquisitive.”

Managing to find the will, you fire back, “T-that inquisitiveness helped me beat you in Professor Miya’s class last year, don’t forget.”

His pace increases. “Merlin, your voice is fucking annoying.”

Panties soaked, you resist the urge to press a hand to your pussy to alleviate the growing need there, settling instead for pressing your thighs together.

“S-seriously. You’ve -ha- seen my dick before. Quit fucking staring. You’re acting like you think it’s pretty.” His tone is unnecessarily sarcastic and aggressive, but you let him have this one. 

Just as breathless, you reply, “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

“Fuck!”

Spurts of white cum spew out, landing on the ground between you two. They haven’t touched you and yet you feel their heat. Or maybe it’s coming from his body which glistens ever so slightly with sweat. Maybe it’s even coming from the way he glares at you — eyes dark and blaming, he accuses you of pushing him to release early. 

You hadn’t meant to; you could have watched forever. 

Sukuna packs his softening cock back in, clean hand running through his hair. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and conjure a handkerchief. You offer it to him, but he stretches his hand out. Biting your tongue, you allow him that one thing too since that couldn’t have possibly been easy and you consider the favour repaid.

Diligently wiping his spend away, muttering an enchantment to thoroughly clean him up, you flinch when his clean fingers skim your cheek, pushing a strand of hair back. 

The cat spins in the air. “You put up a great performance. It was very…revealing.”

“Spare me your bullshit. Hold up your end of the deal, cat.”

It begins disappearing, starting from the end of its tails and ending with the grin, which remains. Widening, it finally reveals before leaving, “Go right. To the Mad Hatter.”

A rock flies through the air and thuds against a tree. When it falls, a huge dent is left in the trunk. Sukuna had just tried to kill the cat. This quest is dead. 

Worried, you muse, “I’m not sure how I feel about a ‘mad’ hatter. Everyone here seems pretty mad to me so by their standards, he must be truly insane.”

A mischievous whisper grazes your ear. “You’re right. We’re all mad here.”

And then it’s gone again, but not without another rock flying near your head, whizzing past just a second too late. You give Sukuna an unimpressed look but he’s already picking his clothes up, dusting them off, and marching ahead without looking back. 

——————

There’s a table set out under a tree in front of a house. The ‘March Hare,’ you guess, and Hatter are having tea at it with a mouse sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two are using as it as a cushion, resting their elbows on the mouse and talking over its head. You fear it’d be very uncomfortable for the mouse, but it doesn’t seem to mind as it snoozes. 

“That cat lied to us. They were both here all along. That bitch.”

Again, can’t argue with that.

The table may be large, but the three are all crowded in one corner of the table and when they spot you two approaching, they cry out, “No room! No room!”

“Fuck are you talking about? There’s plenty of room. Move over,” Sukuna snarls. You elbow him and he rolls his eyes.

Two chairs pull out and you feel the crackle of his magic in the air. You take the seat and are offered wine by the March Hare. 

“I don’t see any wine,” you remark. 

The March Hare says, “There isn’t any.”

“Then why the fuck would you offer?”

The March hare says, “Why would you sit down without being invited?”

Fair enough. 

“Your hair wants cutting,” says the Hatter. He’s been looking at you for some time with great curiosity. Dressed in a patchwork of many different cloths of various colours and textures, he is an oddity. You both study each other

“You should learn not to make personal fucking remarks,” Sukuna snarls with some severity; “it’s fucking rude.”

The Hatter opens his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he replies is, “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

Somewhat eager to ease the sudden tense atmosphere, you force an enthusiastic tone. “I love riddles. I believe I can guess that.”

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” Asks the March Hare. You nod. “Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare goes on.

“I do,” you hastily respond; “I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” Shouts the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” adds the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” mumbles the mouse, who seems to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

THUD!

All eyes fall on Sukuna who’s hit the table with a fist, seemingly innocently as he reclines in his seat the way he does in lectures and classes. You sigh. This whole thing is a mess. It’s impossible to get through any of these people and you’ve got no real clue where the hell the cursed item is. 

“We were directed here by a cat. A grinning cat. He said you might know something about this thing we’re looking for. It might sound odd but it’s a finger. It should feel weird, not at all a good feeling.”

The mouse mumbles, “Finger…we saw…it’s taken.”

You both sit up. “Taken? Where?”

“Tea!” The Hatter exclaims. “Since the Queen screamed that I was murdering time at her concert, it’s always been six o’clock here. So, we must have tea!”

Two cups find their way in front of you and your partner. A thick sense of dread fills you; you already know where this is going. What will it be this time? Lick each other’s toes? Spank each other on the ass?

“We’re not drinking this.”

“Oh, but you must. Tea is a great drink! It’s the best drink. This one offers clarity of mind. Perhaps it will lead you to where you’d like to go.”

Great. 

The day’s almost over and you’d really hate to spend a night here. Again, who knows how much time has passed in Genesis. You really can’t afford to dilly-daddle anymore. When you share a look with Sukuna, you know he’s thinking the same thing, albeit begrudgingly.

And so down it goes without much further argument.

Just as you had suspected, the tea is no ordinary tea — you feel its effects immediately. Your head is growing heavy, and your sight is blurring, but you feel alive. Your body is far more sensitive than it was before. Every breeze sets goosebumps on your arms and heat rises to your cheeks at the sensation of clothes brushing against your skin. 

“Shit. I t-thought you said this gives clarity of mind,” Sukuna spews out accusingly. 

They all laugh. Or maybe none of them do. 

“Let’s have some fun! The Dormouse will tell a story, and you must make it till the end.”

“The catch,” you croak out. “What’s the catch?”

The March Hare remarks, “Clever! Well, you two must be in embrace. It is simply how things are done here. Otherwise, how else will we know if a story is good?”

Flexing his hand like he’s worried he’s losing control over it, your partner presses, “You want us to hug? How does that make sense?”

“No, of course not. She must hug you. The most intimate of hugs!”

“The warmest.”

“The tightest!”

Oh fuck.

“Oh fuck,” Sukuna groans at the same time the thought occurs to you. “There’s always something with this fucking place. I’m losing my mind. Hey, let’s just quit this entire thing.”

“What!”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so horrified. Does this shit mean that much to you? Everything we’ve done here is unethical as fuck. If we return and explain, they can’t fail us. We’ve already gone above and beyond.”

“B-but what if they don’t go easy on us? I can’t get a bad grade, Sukuna. I just can’t.”

“Grow the fuck up! This is too fucking far. What they’re suggesting… it’s insane and you know it. We’re both top students, they wouldn’t dare kick us out of the course or the fucking school, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

The chair is pushed back and he’s leaving, shrugging his blazer on and tightening his tie. He’s ready to throw in the towel. You’re not. Heart beating out of your chest, your hands shake as you stand, lunging for him. “N-no! Sukuna, we’ve come so far already. We’re close. I can feel it. Please. It won’t mean anything, we can just get it over and done with.”

Darkness clouds his eyes and the heaviness in his body from the tea makes sweat bead down his neck. Rolling his head around, he tries to calm himself, collecting his mind and resisting the warming effects of the tea. 

“Stop talking. We’re going back. Hate me all you want but I refuse to take a part in this farce any longer. This whole thing was fucked from the beginning.”

He’s reaching in his inside pocket, searching for that one thing that would end this. You’ve looked forward to this all your life, you can’t just let this go without having given it your all. 

“Sukuna!”

Something about your tone stops him in his tracks and his unfocused eyes find yours. 

“My dad…H-he was an explorer.” You blame the tea on the tears welling up and threatening to humiliate you further. “He gave his life to the cause. It was everything to him. A-and this is the only part of him I can keep alive so please one more chance and then I’ll do everything you want. I’ll do your homework, I’ll give up job opportunities for you, I’ll rescind the complaint I made about you where I complained about your bad breath.”

“I don’t have bad breath.”

“Yeah, I know! I just wanted to be petty, fuck. Please?”

Combing his hair with his hand, a tick in his jaw jumps and you think maybe he’ll kill you, strangle you finally after years of…whatever the fuck you two have been doing. Instead, he says…

“Take off your fucking panties and let’s fucking hope the hamster is a good orator.”

And so, you find yourself sitting on Sukuna’s thick thighs, panty-less, and stuffed full. Easing him in is difficult beyond belief — you’re already wet, or had remained wet, the details are unclear, and he’s hard, which is the problem. His huge cock doesn’t make the easiest of entrances. 

“Loosen up, princess. You’re gonna cut the circulation off my damn dick,” he hisses in your ear. It sends shivers down your back and when you tighten up in response, his fingers dig into your hips as punishment. 

“Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse begins in no hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well—”

“What did they live on?” Asks the Hatter. 

Sukuna doesn’t feel anywhere near close to being buried to the hilt inside your pussy and he’s pushing his way through your gummy walls, fingers rubbing your clit to encourage you to loosen up. You’re already sweaty and well out of breath. To maintain some dignity, you decide to blame it on the tea. 

“They lived on treacle,” says the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.

“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” you gently remark, attempting to distract yourself from the fact that they’re watching you ease yourself down on the pink-haired man’s throbbing length; “they’d have been ill.”

“So they were,” says the Dormouse; “very ill.”

“But why did they live at the bottom of a we—Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

He’d grabbed you by the hips and shoved you down, forcing your walls to stretch impossibly quickly. A dull pain vibrates inside, it causes you to tear up. Shushing you, a hand reaches up underneath your jumper, it rips your shirt open, buttons falling down. That hand, calloused and scalding, weighs up your breast. Your head falls back on his shoulder when he pinches a nipple.

“Don’t fucking interrupt him, dumbass.”

The Dormouse again takes a minute or two to think about it, and then confirms, “It was a treacle-well. And so, these three little sisters—they were learning to draw, you know—”

“What did they draw?” You wonder, forgetting yourself. Sukuna thrusts inside you. 

Pooling under, your wetness coats his cock, dribbling down his balls. He’s so much bigger inside you than outside and by the Heavens, it’s like he’s in your lungs. Every ridge, every vein, every throb — you feel it all. Sukuna’s lips skim your neck. “Are you interrupting the fucking thing ‘cause you want to elongate this? Huh, you irritating -hngh- p-pain in my ass? So quiet now that you’ve got a cock plugging you up, aren’t you? Maybe that’s all you -ha- needed from the very beginning, you dirty little thing.”

A moan leaks out just as he flicks your nipple again and again. 

“Treacle,” says the Dormouse, with a little amusement in his words. 

You can’t even remark about how ridiculous this whole thing is anymore because now it’s your fault. You had an out and you didn’t take it when offered. Now you’re practically drooling against Sukuna’s neck as he holds back from thrusting into your wet heat. 

“Did you ever think that w-we’d -ha- end up like this? When you shoved me out of your way years ago, unprovoked, did you know I’d be balls deep inside this pretty fucking pussy, hmm? Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. Is it turning you on to be watched? Do you like how e-everyone’s listening to your -ngh fuck don’t clench down on me- y-your moans, watching you grind on my dick? What would your s-snooty friends think?”

“They were learning to draw,” the Dormouse goes on, yawning and rubbing its eyes, for it’s getting very sleepy; “and they drew all manner of things—everything that begins with an M—”

“Why with an M?” Enquires the Hatter.

 The March Hare asks, “Why not?”

You’re silent, or as silent as you can be with the way you feel him pulsing inside of you. His clutch on you is much sweeter than you’d like it to be, so are the words of praise he’s whispering in your ears. Sukuna’s being unfair. Your knees are shaking from the pressure building up inside you and you really have to fight back the whimpers that claw their up your throat, reminding you how he filled it mere hours ago. 

“Just filled your sloppy cunt with my cock and you’re -mhm- already fucked dumb? Always wondered how long it’d take to wipe that pretentious smirk of your face, you self-righteous brat. Now look at you.”

“You’ve been -hgnh!- thinking about f-fucking me?”

He laughs and you feel it rumble behind you. “More times than I’ll ever admit. And only ever when you pissed me off. You’re always glaring at me when I talk in lectures, walking fast so you won’t h-have to breathe the same fucking air as me, and worse of all, when you wear these short fucking skirts and if I looked hard enough or conjured a breeze, I could see your prissy little panties. Always with frills and always with bows.”

“S-shut up, Sukuna. Your crazy talk’s scaring me.”

Sharp teeth cling onto your neck, digging just a little to draw out a sudden moan. Satisfied, he licks up the mark. “Didn’t you learn anything from Professor Hinata’s class on spiritual attachments? Love is fear. Y-you falling -ah fuck, I won’t last- falling for me, prissy little princess?”

“No, he said, people f-feel a different sense of -ooh fuck so full ha- fear when in love.”

“Same fucking difference.”

The Dormouse closes its eyes by this time, and is going off into a doze; but, on being pinched by the Hatter, it wakes up again with a little shriek, and goes on: “—that begins with an M, such as mouse-traps, and the moon, and memory, and muchness—you know you say things are ‘much of a muchness’—did you ever see such a thing as a drawing of a muchness?”

“How much longer?” You all but scream out at the three other people. 

Looking startled, they laugh. The Hatter confesses. “The story was over before it began.”

The March Hare adds, “Or there was no story to tell to begin with.”

“The finger! Where’s the finger?”

“The Queen has it. Took it away.”

Your orgasm hits you like a shooting star, piercing you from inside. Back arching, head thrown back, eyes rolling, you tense all over. Sukuna’s grip on you tightens impossibly and triggers his own orgasm. Together, you both moan and groan, shaky knees hitting the table. It rattles. “Fuck, Sukuna! So b-big! I c-can’t. So good, so so so good.”

“That’s it, baby. Ride my dick, that’s it. Ah, fuck, you’re so damn good at that. Better than I coulda ever dreamed. Smell and taste better too, ha! Shit!”

The world fades away. All you can hear, feel, see, and hear is Sukuna. Pink hair, steel muscles, piercing sword buried to the hilt, and careful hand wiping an errant tear from your cheek. Hot ropes of cum paint your insides, driven by an intense throbbing. It’s the fullest you’ve ever been — the most satisfied too but you can’t dwell on that for too long.

You slump against him, completely spent and drenched. 

His chin rests against your shoulder and sometime later, with the three Underlanders talking among themselves, bored of you two now, he whispers, “Didn’t pull you down too hard, did I?”

“A little…but it was good.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. 

Standing, you wince when cool air kisses your swollen lips. There’s a gaping Sukuna-sized hole inside you and it’s leaking cum, which trails down your thighs before the man responsible kneels down and wipes it up with a new handkerchief — man you two are going through handkerchiefs like it’s nothing and well, you suppose it is considering they’re so light, they can be easily conjured with little to no effort. 

Once clean, he helps you slip into the panties you had discarded, what feels like, a millennia ago. And then, with a distracted instruction from the Mad Hatter, you two leave the tea-drinkers in search of the so-called, ‘Queen of Hearts.’

Neither of you mention the fact that your hands are interlinked the whole way.

——————

A large rose-tree stands near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it are white, but there are three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. From your hiding spot behind a hedge, you hear one shout, “Look out now, Five! Don’t go splashing paint over me like that!”

“I couldn’t help it,” says Five, in a sulky tone; “Seven jogged my elbow.”

On which Seven looks up and sarcastically agrees, “That’s right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!”

“You’d better not talk!” Demands Five. “I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!”

“What for?” Asks the one who had spoken first.

“That’s none of your business, Two!” Says Seven.

“Yes, it is his business!” Five says, “and I’ll tell him—it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.”

Sukuna snorts, “Fuck’s their problem?”

“It looks like they’re painting the roses red. Why?”

At this moment Five, who’s been anxiously looking across the garden, calls out, “The Queen! The Queen!” and the three gardeners instantly throw themselves flat upon their faces. There’s a sound of many footsteps, and you look around, eager to see this woman.

First comes ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these are ornamented all over with diamonds, and walks two and two, as the soldiers did. After these come the royal children; there are a ten of them, and the little dears come jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they’re all ornamented with hearts. Then the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them you recognise the White Rabbit: it’s talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that’s said, and goes by without noticing you two. Then follows the Knave of Hearts, carrying something on a velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, comes the King and Queen of Hearts.

“And who are these?” Asks the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who are lying round the rose-tree; they’re lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs are the same as the rest of the pack, so she can’t tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children. Then, sensing they won’t want to out themselves, she screams, “Off with their heads!”

“What a bitch,” you mutter.

Beside you, Sukuna shrugs. “Nah, she’s valid.”

Ignoring him, you point to the cushion. “Do you feel that?”

He nods. There’s an intense energy coming from the velvet cushion. You already know it’s the finger encased in a glass box. The box itself would have been crafted with keeping most of the cursed energy contained in mind, so you know its malevolent effects are limited, but the sooner you can retrieve and return to school grounds, the better. You’ve overstayed your welcome, the proof of that is still pooling in your panties. 

“Let’s grab it and get the fuck outta here.”

Grabbing your bag, you search for something you’ve been saving for this very moment: a vial of blue liquid swirls in your hand. You uncork it and with a nod to Sukuna, you take a gulp. Hand outstretched to offer the rest to him, you’re somehow not surprised to feel hands on your head and lips on your own. 

The liquid sloshes into his mouth. You both gulp. 

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

And then you’re invisible. 

Creeping through the shrubbery, you wander into a curious game. 

“Get to your places!” Screams the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people begin running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they get settled down in a minute or two, and the game begins. You’ve never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it’s all ridges and furrows; the balls are live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingos, and the soldiers have to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.

The players all play at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the Queen’s in a furious passion, and stomps around, shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” about once in a minute.

If there was anyone to avoid pissing off in here, it’s surely her. So, you two make your way around, avoiding soldiers, children, hedgehogs, kings and queens and flamingos. 

Upon reaching the Knave, you pluck the box in your hands and feel immense energy coursing through your veins, sparking your hair up. Something fizzles and splutters. 

Gasps stagger around. 

“W-who is this interloper with dreadful clothes?” The Queen screams. “She’s taking my finger! It’s mine. I found it!”

The cursed item must have off-set the effects of the potion. This thing is strong, there’s no doubt about it. Everyone’s looking at you, some in curiosity, inching closer, and others in horror, lunging back when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Off with her head! Off with her head! Off with her head!” The bitch repeats on a loop, growing red in the face as she stomps about the place. 

Just as guards reach for you, you’re grabbed back by a pair of strong arms. Sukuna’s still invisible but you know it’s him when a calloused hand brushes your hair back and fixes up your uniform in quick succession. Something soft and warm brushes your forehead and then a purple coin is flipped in the air. 

Bright lights blind, encircling you in a cool and refreshing hug, before your body is vanishing in spots. 

Blink. 

You’re standing on solid ground. 

A hall of uniformed scholars and students alike are waiting. They beam at you; deafening rounds of applause meets your ears, and you stumble back into a hard body. Sukuna’s visible again, thanks to the effects of the portal. Gone are the angry kings and queens, the oddly shaped soldiers, and talking animals. Instead, you’re face with academics who express impressed respect.

“Congratulations!” Professor Yaga smiles. He shakes your hand and then your partner’s. “You’re the first students to return — as expected of my best students. Come, drink some water, replenish yourselves, and then I’d like to introduce you to recruiters.”

And so that’s how your return proceeds.

You meet so many people, most you’ve already forgotten, that your head actually hurts by the time you’re able to slip away into your dorm-room. Showered and fed, you lay in bed trying desperately to grasp the events of the day. The professor had revealed that you made it back in record time, which of course will look great on your application, so that’s one chip off your shoulder. 

Still, everything feels unreal. You had travelled, unchaperoned, to a world unknown to you. You explored and discovered and stumbled and learnt — most of which you’d never feel comfortable sharing with anyone else, try as they did in the reception. 

In hindsight, there were things you could have done differently, should have done differently. None of that seems to matter now though. You’ve done it. You’ve succeeded. Passed with flying colours. An A-grade dimension on your first go, too. You should pat yourself on the back. 

For some reason, however, you don’t feel like celebrating. The friends that hugged and pressed you for information didn’t really understand that numbness in your chest. This is all you’ve ever wanted and now that you have it, you feel empty. Is it because now you have nothing? 

Is it guilt? Shame?

You don’t know. 

Your feet meet the cold, wooden floors. Slipping into slippers and tying a robe around you, you sneak out into the hallways, this time not to study, but rather to do the opposite. There’s one thing you need to know. One thing that might set your mind and soul at ease. Facing a high likelihood that that something would not take kindly to being disturbed late at night, you brave the hardest journey so far, and come upon a door, this time, at a good height. 

You knock. 

Every second that passes drives away that confidence but when that door opens and you see a startled Sukuna, shirtless and glistening from a recent shower, it seems, you feel assured again. It’s just him. There’s no reason to be nervous. You’ve seen and felt him, just as he had done with you. Despite the years of petty rivalry, you’ve learned, he’s not that bad actually. 

“Fuck do you want?”

Nevermind. 

Rolling your eyes, you begin walking away. A solid grip wraps itself around your arm and you’re yanked back. Your hand grabs purchase on his torso —hard, hot and wet, images are conjured in your mind that you shouldn’t be thinking about. 

“Don’t get all prissy. Was just asking.”

One or two students pass by, sparing a glance but mostly at Sukuna’s impressive bod. Neither of you care that gossip will pass around; you’ve done a lot of being watched. It no longer bothers you. He leans against the door, arms crossed and raising a brow at you. 

“I just wanted to talk, or something. Like, we didn’t really get to when we got back because it all got so crazy, y’know?”

He grunts. “That’s an understatement. Those stuffy old goats were somehow more annoying than the freaks in Underland.”

You smile. 

“Can’t believe we actually survived. It seemed so impossible at so many points, didn���t it?”

“Yeah, it did. But we did good.”

“Yeah, we did...”

The conversation’s dwindling. You thought you would have so much to say, and well, you do, but none of it is coming out. What do you say to someone’s who’s been inside you?

‘Hey, thanks!’ Or ‘Nice?’

In a flash, he tugs you by the fuzzy belt of your robe. You’re in his arms and he growls out some insult to a passing student who had almost bumped into you. Just as quickly, he spins you two around, closes the door and you’re inside his room. Both leaning against his door now, he doesn’t let you go, and you don’t shuffle out of his embrace. 

Gaze softening, he pinches your chin and tilts your head back so you can meet his eyes. “That story about your father…”

“Didn’t happen,” you confess. 

He laughs. “Fucking knew it. You can be such a nerd, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, grades are important, Sukuna. If you knew that, then you wouldn’t be five points behind me.” 

“Fuck you.” He walks forward, pushing you back until you fall on the bed. He follows, drops of water splattering on your face and the sheets. “I was seven points ahead before. I’ll get you back soon.”

You’ve never thought him foul-smelling, even when you searched the deepest darkest parts of yourself to find the most creative insults you could gather to satisfy your need for vindication. But now, his scent fills your nose in an overwhelming, almost suffocating way. 

Clean and mature, you’re suddenly aware of the stubble on his chin when his face skims past yours to smell you. “Hmm, don’t change your shampoo.”

“Do you conjure a breeze to get a whiff of my hair too?” You tease and just as the last word comes out, a ‘yes’ reaches your ears. He’s being painfully transparent and vulnerable and you don’t know how to feel or what to say, so you settle on nothing but silence. 

Truthfully, you don’t know what you had expected to happen when you come here, but this sudden change in your dynamic isn’t terrible.

There, in his bed and in his arms, you rest. Neither of you are asleep, you’re both much too aware of each other to do so, but the quietude’s nice. Just the day before, if you had been told you’d end up like this with him you’d have laughed and levitated a book into their head. It would have been worse than impossible — if it had happened, the world, all the dimensions and planes of existence that fills it, would have folded into itself, swallowed into nothing. 

But it hasn’t and it won’t. 

“Your heart’s beating quite fast,” he murmurs against your neck. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

The question is loaded, and you can’t help yourself when you fire back, “Are you afraid of me, Ryomen?”

“Terrified.”

His face is all you see when he leans on his forearms, then slowly, he leans back down, skimming his sharp nose against your jaw and all the way up to your ear where his lips just barely touch the shell. 

“So afraid I was actually getting dressed to go to your room…but you just had to one-up me, didn’t you? My little overachiever.”

Sukuna doesn’t stop there. 

He kisses you on your temple and then pushes the robe open, revealing an oversized shirt which he pulls up. He presses a kiss onto your clavicle, then your stomach, and the hem of your shorts. He looks up at you. “So afraid that I enjoyed every single fucked up thing we did today, and I’d do it all over again, cursed finger be damned.”

Those shorts are ripped away and, once again, you’re laid all open for him. You should be embarrassed, or feeling shy at the very least, but you aren’t. Because Sukuna isn’t looking at you like he used to — with disdain. No, he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and might ever see even if he explored all the corners of the universe. 

“I was terrified when you yelled at me for burning your application paper for Ad-Ill.”

You smack him on the head. “You were such a prick for that, by the way.”

Big hands push your thighs open, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs, keeping you nice and spread for him. “It was an accident.”

“The hell it was.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, and you moan. Just that one taste had him feral — he dives in like he had done before. Practically making out with your pussy, he laps up the essence steadily building out of your slightly sore hole. “It was. I didn’t know you were -mm- applying too until you came to hand in your paper. Thought it’d be fun to have someone who actually -fuck you tastes so good- knows a thing or two in class so I tried to set alight someone else’s paper, but some loser bumped into me. Made me miss and shit.”

There are so many more incidents you want to bring up, but when he’s suckling on your clit so diligently — far more than diligent than you’d ever seen him be — you can’t do anything but tug at his hair and writhe beneath his hands. 

“Quit fucking moving.” Sukuna smacks the bundle of nerves, and you cream onto his tongue, which earns you soothing caresses on your clammy thighs. “You’re taking the tonic, aren’t you?”

You nod, distracted. 

“Good, because I’m not fucking you with a barrier. Can’t possibly downgrade when I’ve had the real thing, can I?”

That sinful tongue is forcing moans and moans out from you, noises you’ve never heard yourself make. Your eyes fly open when it begins venturing lower, tracing a hole you’ve never touched. “S-sukuna, don’t.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. It presses in and you feel stretched in a way so different than you’ve ever been stretched before. The sensation isn’t bad. No, not at all but it’s an addictive feeling you’re not sure you can stomach. 

With fingers pistoning inside you and a tongue exploring you in that hole, it’s no surprise to either of you when you squirt all over his face. You screech, back arched painfully and tearing at the sheets beneath you. 

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe before you’re being spun around and positioned onto your knees. Arms pulled back, he thrusts into your sloppy pussy with a long squeeelch. 

“Ah, fuck! Sukuna!”

“God, do you ever loosen up?” He growls. 

Powerful hips make quick work of you, pushing in and out, cock head massaging that gooey spot inside your gummy walls. His balls are swinging with the force of his thrusts, and they kiss your clit. You’re being stimulated inside and out, especially when every time he smacks into you, you’re shoved forward, shirt around your neck, and your tits graze deliciously against the silky sheets. 

“T-too rough…you’re being too rough!”

Sukuna makes a noise of amusement. “You like it rough, though. Can fucking feel -ngh- h-how much you like it. No use in lying to me, baby.”

“Fine!” You huff a laugh. “Fuck me harder then, Ryomen.” He pulls out till only the tip is in your cunt and then he shoves it all back in. “Fuck!”

His groans are making you delirious: “How do you feel so damn good? Seriously. It’s like you were -ah shit- created just to spite me, ha.”

You’re being fucked stupid, and no one can help you. You just have to take his relentless pummelling over and over again. And thank the Heavens you’re not the type to back away from a challenge because he’s fucking you better than anyone else has before, and this kind of euphoria is a crime to miss in anyone’s lifetime.

“Eat.” Through the blurriness of the tears in your eyes, you see a cake hovering in front of you. “Swiped it from Underland. Had it tested so I know exactly what it does. Go on. Be a good girl and open wide.”

Despite better wisdom, you lick up the frosting. He pulls you upright, still ramming his huge cock inside your sopping pussy. A hand grabs your head back, his tongue shoves into your mouth and you share the cream. Through the sweetness, you can taste him, and you just can’t help but lick up the dribble down his chin and meet his lips again for a kiss. 

“Ow! Suku—Ah! Fuck! Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

Sukuna had bitten your bottom lip. Blood pools in your mouth but he sucks away the iron and distracts you with the flicking of your nipples. Just as he’s had his momentary fill, you’re shoved back down onto the bed, a hand on your head keeping you down as he bulldozes into you with little care. 

“Even your blood tastes sweet ha. God, I can’t get enough of you. I don’t care what you -ngh fuck- have to say. I’m keeping you.”

You explode all over his cock, cream pooling out of your pussy and soaking the sheets underneath. The soreness in your back is barely felt over the maddening pleasure radiating all over your body. “Yes, fuck! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Body limp, you let him keep pummelling you until he pauses suddenly. You look back.

Two cocks meet your stare. 

Bewildered and literally afraid, you attempt to inch away but he grips your ankle in one hand whilst the other strokes the new one. There’s a sadistic smile on his lips and that’s far more horrifying than anything else. It’s the kind of smile that promises pleasure and pain on levels you can only ever achieve with him. 

“You like, baby? Don’t worry your dumb little head -ha- only men grow this. Aren’t we lucky? The women, on the other hand…”

Before you can even think of a reply, he’s spitting onto your second hole and prodding the head of his temporary —at least you hope it is — cock there. You brace yourself for pain, hands flying to try and push him away, but when he pushes in, you’re surprised to find your hole stretching accommodatingly. It wraps around him just as your pussy does when he pushes his original cock in at the same time. 

Thoroughly filled, you’re breathless. Truly. All you can think about is Sukuna. Nothing about your shared history or the insane events of the day. Just Sukuna. You were already being driven crazy by one of him and now there’s two monsters fucking you from behind, rubbing against parts you didn’t know could feel so good. 

“Oh, God, Sukuna. It’s all too much, I can’t.”

He laughs and it’s an incredibly cruel sound. It’s also incredibly hot. “You’ve said that -ngh- before and you’ve been doing j-just fine. Can’t believe we waited so long to do this.”

You’re yanked back by your hair. Your eyes roll back. 

“Don’t make me wait again.”

“Let me do -oh Sukuna!- b-better than you in the next test and I’ll let you fuuuuck! fuck me whenever.”

Body towering over you, he leans forward, driving deeper inside of you at an angle that makes you see dancing gryphons. His jaw clamps down onto your shoulder, leaving, you’re sure, indents that you’ll curse him out for tomorrow. “Yeah? How about you try your damn best to beat me, and I fuck you whenever and wherever I want? I can be quite good with words, after all.”

“Bullshit.”

So many noises echo in the room. The neighbouring students will surely complain to the Head of Student Housing, but you don’t care. The bed is creaking as it slams into the wall with loud thuds. Your moans and his low groans and hisses are making your clit pulse. Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! And smack! Smack! Smack!

It’s like Sukuna’s purposefully being as loud as possible to drive you more and more insane. And it’s fucking working.

“Yeah? You don’t believe me?” He licks a stripe up your spine, laying a firm slap against the glove of your ass just to watch it ripple. “Try this one.”

Steeling yourself, you brace for the impact of whatever lie spews out of his mouth. You don’t want to let him get the best of you; you need to remind him of who’s better out of the two of you. Whether it’s in the examination hall, in a quest, or on the damn bed — you have to come out victorious. 

He kisses your nape before he whispers against the skin there. “I was so fearful of you I convinced Professor Yaga to pair me up with you.”

You cum. 

Stars explode in your vision, and you’re stunned. Your vision must have disappeared. Or maybe your mind has vaporised. Whatever the case, pleasure erupts in both your pussy and your ass, and the feeling is so overwhelming you’re screaming bloody murder into his pillow, drenching it in your drool. 

“Ah, fuck! You’re fucking choking my cocks.” 

With a hiss, Sukuna unloads his cum inside of you. There’s so much of it. It’s overfilling, flowing out of your holes even as he’s still got you stuffed full. You can feel phantom cum pool in your mouth and the taste of him, the branding sear of his body on and in you, relieve you of tension you didn’t realise you had. 

Knowing he’s suffocating you; he rolls you two over so you’re lying on him. His skin is sweaty, as is yours. Through his curtains, you see rays of light peek in — you hadn’t realised you’ve been at it for hours, though you’re sure to feel it later. 

A stillness hangs in the air. For the next couple of weeks, you’ll be busy. Recruiters will conduct interviews, you’ll write reports, and answer questions for local papers and even lead classes on what you’ve learnt. You’ll indubitably meet many more people and go through a different kind of hell. For reasons beyond you, however, you don’t feel any kind of dread. 

“Did you mean what you said? Any of it?”

He snorts and then pecks your forehead, pulling up the blanket over the two of you. “Every damn word, unfortunately.”

“So now what?”

Eyes closed and body shuffling to get comfortable, you can do nothing but be compelled by the sudden call for sleep luring you two away from consciousness. “Whatever you want.”

Somehow, ‘whatever’ is the perfect answer. 

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, fulfilled and satisfied on levels you hadn’t expected to be when you set off that morning. Wherever this goes, neither of you know, but the fact that you’re both willing to see it through, means everything to you. 

That morning, your dreams are filled with visions of delicious drinks, animated animals, and a malevolent monarch who cradles your head close to his heart.

[aquasoftware]

⌕ Giving ōral, for dummies! ★

Snippet | "Hmm. Increase suction gradually... Got it."

FT║ Fem!Reader ✘ Nerd!Choso K.

Desc | Your boyfriend was a perfectionist—so when you told him his heąd game wasn't that good, he took it personally ➜ Now, with a book and determination, he's is set on proving you wrong. But when he starts flipping pages mid-act, you realize you might've created a monster.

Cw║ ørāl f!xát!on, crack/šmųț (proceed with caution 18+ ⚠️) ōvėrstım, praısė, service dom!choso, fınġer!ng, pıv implied at the end, volleyball!player reader, mărk!ng, choso has braces & glasses, nerd/dork! Choso duh, sızę difference (if you squint,) + college au.

WC ➜ 2.1K ♪ ML

11 min read & Oneshot.

Your boyfriend was a perfectionist at everything he did. And when it came to pleasing you? Best believe there was no exception.

When you were reluctantly honest with him, telling him his head game skills weren’t that good, it hurt at first, yes, but he urgently became dedicated to getting that statement to eventually change. Proving he could take criticism well, he studied multiple articles and at one point even bought a few expensive books that fairly put a hole in his wallet on how to give a woman pleasure.

Which led you to being here in his neat dorm room after volleyball practice.

Head spinning like whirlpools as you leaned up on both elbows, staring down extremely fascinated at your boyfriend in between your spread thick thighs.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, pale flushed face buried into your pussy all while checking every second to read another step.

“Cho, w-what’s with the book,” you stammered, already becoming a breathy whiney mess, from the tutorial he was following. “You could’ve–”

He must’ve finished reading a step off of the page or something, since he cut you off. Not with words, but with slow gentle wet kisses on your clit. As if he were taking little nibbles on his appetizer before getting to the main course.

Your whole body jerked. “Oh, fuuuck…” A long drawn out cry fell out from your mouth, sauntering over to his ears that were painted light-pink at the tips.

Choso hummed like he’d just confirmed one of the fun-facts about the clit having 10,281 nerves. Briskly adjusting his tortoise-shell glasses before flipping to the next page in the book propped open beside him titled “Giving Oral Sex, For Dummies!”

He kept his face relished between your legs, licking long, careful stripes across your slit—like he was terrified of leaving you unsatisfied again.

“Choso!” You abruptly gasped at his mouth working itself on you, tossing your head back, before blinking up, staggering eyes watching him. Unsure whether your stomach began to twist in arousal or secondhand embarrassment.

You were too lost in ecstasy to fully process what was happening either way, the only thing your brain could maybe manage to pick up was the faint buzz of the TV static in the background.

He continued, moving away for a moment to bring his head towards your slightly sweaty inner thigh lips latching onto the soft flesh, sucking delicately, as if the spot had a fragile sticker placed on it.

His tongue flicked against the skin in lazy strokes while a deep low groan vibrated against your thigh, and you felt it—the sensation rumbling through your skin, sinking into your bones.

You shivered. A whimper left your lips before you could stop it, secretly hoping his roommate wasn’t there. Your thighs twitching ever so slightly as heat charged through you.

Choso lifted his lips about thirty seconds later, admiring the deepening mark blooming on the fat of your thigh. He smiled, exhilarated at the sight of his masterpiece, his fingers kneading possessively at the painted flesh.

“Shit, it looks so beautiful on you, angel.” He murmured, voice spilling with warmth. His half-lidded eyes dragged over your skin, pupils dilated with admiration.

Your stomach flipped at the lovesick haze in his expression, heart hammering at how beyond gone he looked over a single bruise.

Then, Choso’s lips curled into a small, knowing smirk, fingers tracing the sensitive mark he’d left behind.

“Damn,” he uttered, amusement sprinkling his voice, “what’s the team gonna say when they see this, huh?” His confidence had soared—fed by the pretty sounds you repeatedly gave him, the way your body responded so easily to his mouth. Thanks to this little guide he knew he’d never receive poor ratings on his oral skills again.

Your breath hitched. A fresh wave of heat rolled through you at the realization—your shorts weren’t long enough to hide it.

“Shut up, and just make me cum.” You shot back, face heated in embarrassment, still making it your business to humble him somewhat.

Choso let out a deep, throaty chuckle against your thigh, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

“Yes, ma’am!” He grinned, flashing just enough of his braces to make your mind dizzy, eyes gleaming as he lowered himself back between your legs. His wet muscle circled your bud at a deliberate, teasing pace—never too fast, or too slow, just enough to keep you desperate.

His mouth was hot, breath fanning over your slick sticky folds. When he pulled back just slightly—lips and chin glistening—his braces caught the bright light.

You swore you felt weak at the immense sight, everything about this man turned you on.

Choso licked his lips, not even bothering to wipe the mess off his face, and let out another low hum.

“Mmph, the book didn’t mention you’d taste this good, baby.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the comment—if his tongue wasn’t currently making your legs shake.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s violet eyes switched back to the page in front of him, scanning the text like he was preparing for a damn exam.

“Choso—oh my god—what are you even…”

“Shh, relax for me, okay?” He mumbled shushing you, pink lips still strikingly warm against your pussy.

Then—he turned the page, mouth poked out paired along furrowed brows. Tilting his head seriously too concentrated on what he read.

You blinked in disbelief, jaw dropping wide at the action nearly like you’ve seen a ghost. Did he just skip to another page?

“I need to see what step five is.” He added on, eyes glued to the details on what to do next.

“STEP FIVE?!”

Your head shot up, barely able to focus through the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But sure enough—Choso was nodding to himself, eyes scanning the page, mustering under his breath like he was taking mental notes.

“Hmm. Increase suction gradually… Got it.”

A second later, he wrapped his lips around your puffy clit and sucked, languid but firm, and your whole body convulsed. Your legs snapped around his head, locking him in place as your face contorted in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

“Choso—fuck—what exactly are you studying for?!” you yelped, genuinely confused, fingers tangling into his dark brown ponytails for support.

Your boyfriend actually pulled back, pushed up his glasses, and raised an eyebrow at you like you asked him the most obvious question ever.

“For you,” he answered back, completely calm. Then—without hesitation he dove right back in, swishing his head back and forth as his pointed nose brushed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Holy. Shit.

You were fully losing it, while he remained completely composed, taking his sweet time applying every technique like he was testing out a new experiment. His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you extended open like a damn science project.

“Ooh…ngh—Choso, wait!“

He did NOT wait.

In fact, he casually flipped to another page and straight away tried a new tongue technique.

Your back almost arched off the bed. Your head fell back. You were so gone.

And then you heard a fucking pencil scribbling?

“…Baby, the hell?” You heavily panted chest rising and falling on loop. “Are you seriously taking notes?!”

A long pause poured throughout the room, then sheepishly followed behind a high pitched…

“Maybe.”

If you weren’t seconds away from falling apart on his tongue, you’d burst into rib-hurting laughter.

“You’re doing amazing,” he praised, like you were the one putting in work—like you weren’t the one seeing stars.

And as you felt his fingers easily push inside, curling just right, your stomach tensed.

Your own fingers never felt this good.

Your body recognized that telltale tightening in your core—the coil rapidly winding down.

No fucking way.

No way your boyfriend—who was literally using a goddamn manual—was about to make you cum off of it.

You swallowed hard, body trembling.

But with the way Choso was fingering you—intent, precise, full-on committed—you had a sinking feeling this was about to be the best orgasm of your life.

And you were right.

“F-Fuck—Choso, I’m…“

He didn’t stop. His fingers pressed up against that spot, tongue moving faster, tighter, messier, fully loyal to the task at hand. His glasses slid down his nose a second time. His face was dripping with you, and he didn’t even care.

If anything, he looked like he was thriving.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, lapping you up like you were his drug. “I know you’re close.”

You were. Too close, causing you to have an almost love-hate relationship with his attentiveness.

Your thighs shook around his head, your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, the tension snapped in your belly, and suddenly—

You were coming so hard you forgot your own name for a minute.

A sharp sob tore from your lips as your back arched off the bed, pleasure crashing over you in thick, electric waves.

Trembling, while Choso whimpered low. Desperate with arousal, like you just did something to him.

Then you felt it.

His hips rolling against the mattress, shaking the whole bed.

Grinding into it like he was losing his damn mind, whining softly as his fingers dug into your thighs nearly leaving more marks.

The awareness sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Even with his mouth on you, his hands on you, his tongue deep in your pussy—he still needed more.

Finally, your body collapsed—unable to lean on your elbows anymore. Boneless, breathless, outright ruined.

Choso pulled back, shining with your slick on his chin, glasses fogged, pupils blown like a hot air balloon as he stared at you, awestruck. His breath came in uneven pants, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a marathon—except the only thing he had been running was his tongue against your cunt.

You let out an unhurried, quivery breath, body still trembling in the aftermath.

“…Gosh, you’re so ridiculous, babe.” You sighed, still trying to catch your composure, the remnants of pleasure making your voice weaker than intended.

Choso grinned, bashful, swiping the back of his hand over his chin as if to wipe away the mess—only to smudge it further. “Listen… it helped at least?”

Your core throbbed, empty, still fluttering around nothing. The ghost of his fingers, his mouth, the relentless precision of his tongue, lingered between your thighs, and it was very clear—you weren’t stopping here.

You tilted your head, voice firm. “I want your cock inside me. Now.”

Choso choked on his own spit.

His whole body tensed, hands gripping your thighs a little tighter, lips parting like he wanted to say something—but nothing came out. His pupils were blown, his breath shaky, and fuck, he was practically vibrating with restraint.

But who was he to deny you?

His fingers fumbled to undo his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his cock—already painfully hard.

The tip drooled an ample amount of pre-cum, glistening under the dim light, a desperate testament to just how much eating you out had ruined him.

He exhaled sharply, giving himself a few slow, measured strokes, watching the way your thighs trembled, the way your lips parted when you saw him. A deep moan rumbled in his chest, and he finally lined himself up, running the swollen tip along your entrance, smearing his slick against your heat.

Then—he fucking picked up the book again.

Your eyes popped open.

“Choso.” Your voice was sharp and dangerous.

Forcing him to freeze.

“Uh—“ He glanced at the book. Then at you. Then back at the book. “I just wanted to see if there’s a section on penetration—”

“Boy if you don’t put that damn book down.”

Choso’s eyes widened, and the book was on the floor in seconds.

“Okay, okay—fuck,” he laughed breathlessly, his hands finding purchase on your thighs again. “You’re so sexy when you’re all bossy.”

You felt the massive tip press against your entrance, splitting you open as he steadily pushed in.

Yeah, you could tell you were in for a long night.

By the time morning hit, your entire body ached—not the good kind of sore after a tough practice, but the kind that made you rethink all your life choices. Your legs felt like jelly, muscles strained and overworked in a way even the most brutal drills had never managed.

It was worse than endless blocking reps. Worse than the time your coach made you do wall sits for five straight minutes after missing a serve.

You groaned as you shifted, a sharp ache shot up your thighs. Your abs protested, your hips throbbed, and as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you had a horrifying realization.

There was no way in hell you were walking normally today.

Your toes barely touched the floor before your knees buckled, forcing you to grab onto the nightstand for balance.

Already dreading the moment you had to step onto the court.

All you could do now was pray your coach wouldn’t notice how funny you were walking.

➜ Masterlist.

➜ A reblog, like, or comment is highly appreciated!!

➜ A/n | I had this silly little idea a few days ago, so I hope you enjoyed it :) + this was lowkey supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Divider/Boarder creds | hyuneskkami + adornedwithlight.

[cherryblossom-heart]

Nine lives (2/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

You can't get quite get rid of him and, like the storm he is, brings back mistakes from your past

Content Warning: Mentions of past fwb relationship, Sukuna is his own warning, cat dad Kuna, slut shaming (for a cat haha), mentions of reader ghosting him and Uraume.

A/N: Hi! I didn't really expect this to get so much traction haha but I'm glad to see everyone is in love with cat dad!Sukuna 😂 I got this bit of inspiration from a fan art by @agmtist, check them out!

Here's the picture Sukuna sent to reader

<Part 1 Main Masterlist. Part 3>

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Taglist

@vorfreudevortex @magalimachete @chosolovrrr @moonchild701 @fairygardenprincesss @garejuremuzum @lorain07

[starboye]

kento wasn't one to shy away from letting you know what he wanted, if he wanted to marry you some day he was gonna tell you, if he wanted you to wear some slutty lingerie for him he was gonna tell you, if he wanted to fuck you raw and fill you with his cum he was gonna do that

and do that is what he did, he had you splayed out on his huge bed taking every inch of his cock and pumping load after load into your hole until it was overflowing and dripping down your thighs and his cock was a mess but he still couldn't stop

only thing coming out of his mouth were heavy grunts and hungry noises, he had one hand on you hip to help you match his pace and his other hand had his fingers slipped into your mouth, he just loved how you looked right now, the cum in you creating a little bulge n your stomach that had his mind reeling

he wanted to get you pregnant so bad and although it isn't physically possible that doesn't mean he'll stop trying, both of you couldn't even think at this point, you were both to drunk off each tohers body that the only thing in control was your hips

you were bucking yourself onto kento while he continued fucking you into the bed, that of which will definitely need to be replaced because they were completely soaked with your and his mixed cum and other fluids "i wanna put a baby in you so bad darling" he finally spoke looking down at you with lusty yet soft eyes

"please do i want it so bad kento" you whimpered wrapping your legs around his waist which sent him on a spiral so much so that he just mindlessly slammed into you for the rest of the night until he actually couldn't cum anymore and after that it was lights out

hopefully some miracle will happen and you get pregnant

[m1stm3]

having a conversation with satoru while you’re both on your lunch break. you’re making jokes and going over useless gossip, his eyes fixed on you behind his blindfold.

suddenly you pause, sending a small, knowing smile his way. “my eyes are up here, satoru.” you say simply, looking back down at your food to hide the way you were trying your best to stifle a snort at his sudden silence.

your efforts to hide your laughter were useless when he leaned over the table with his brows raised.

“how’d you know?” you’re practically clutching your stomach with how intense your laughter had gotten at this point. the urgency behind his words was so genuine.

to this day satoru remains convinced that you have a secret cursed technique he doesn’t know about. you make no efforts to convince him otherwise.

[sxkuraiii]

an: this is my first post on tumblr in a while.. i’ve been inactive on my previous blogs and i had an urge to wright hehe. i hope you enjoy this!! likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

cw: 18+, f and m masturbation, nanami is a uh camboy? i dunno whatever he streams himself jerking off

you’re pretty certain that your coworker, nanami kento, is a pornstar in secret.

a few months ago, you stumbled upon a certain creator’s stream(as one does, naturally) and he has been your hyperfixation ever since because of the content he makes.

his videos have a signature style—clean, professional, effortlessly seductive. no flashy edits, no over-the-top theatrics. just him, raw and unfiltered. the lighting is always warm, intimate, highlighting the sharp lines of his body and the flex of his fingers as he works himself over. his camera angles? perfect. not too revealing, but enough to make his audience crave more. enough to make you stay on his stream and watch it until the end.

he doesn’t show his face, but that almost makes it worse. just broad shoulders, strong hands, and the occasional glimpse of his toned torso when the camera shifts just right. his voice? low, smooth, and devastatingly calm. whether he’s giving slow, breathy instructions or just letting out the occasional low groan, it’s enough to drive you insane.

he never talks much in his regular uploads—just the occasional low groan, a rough exhale, maybe a deep, quiet “just like that.” but his instructional videos? oh, those are dangerous. slow, deliberate, filthy. his voice never wavers, never stumbles, guiding his viewers through every step like he’s teaching a lesson.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve gotten off with his “lessons”, shamelessly whining and moaning into nothingness whilst your eyes were trained on the stranger, still muttering instructions into your ear.

“take your time,” he murmured in one, the sound of slick movements filling the space between his words. “no need to rush. pleasure should be savored.”

his videos always have a purpose. sometimes, it’s slow and teasing—long, drawn-out touches, soft exhales, deliberate movements that make his audience beg for more in the comments. other times, it’s rougher, more desperate—his breath hitching, his hands gripping the arms of his chair, the kind of performance that makes people ache for him, makes you ache for him.

and his streams? lethal. they always start slow—a shot of his hands undoing his tie, rolling up his sleeves, a soft sigh like he’s just finished a long day of work. he takes his time, fingers tracing over his stomach, teasing himself just enough to make the chat suffer. the comments are always begging, desperate, but he only ever moves at his own pace.

sometimes, he reads them out loud, voice low and amused.

“faster?” he echoes, stroking himself at an agonizing pace. “hmm. i don’t think so. i like watching you squirm.”

you’d be amused at the crazed comments too, if you weren’t so focused on trying to relieve the painful ache between your legs, with your fingers deep in the wetness of your cunt as you drooled over the sight of his hand wrapped around his hard cock.

“impatient, aren’t you?” he muses, palming himself over his slacks, exhaling softly. “patience is a virtue, you know.”

other times, he teases just by not speaking, just letting out quiet groans, small sighs, letting the sound of his movements tell the story. the best part? he never finishes on camera. the stream always cuts off just before, leaving his viewers wrecked and desperate for more.

and you? you are probably reaching the point of desperation so high that you start associating this stranger with your coworker, nanami kento. well, not just associating— straight up thinking that he is the stranger who basically posts himself masturbating online.

it’s when the two of you are left alone in the office, working late on some paperwork that your boss flooded upon you, that you start noticing things.

first, it’s the way nanami rolls up his sleeves. the precision in his movements as he doesn’t even bother looking away from the screen, skilled fingers expertly going over the fabric. and the sight of his bulging forearms and veins that run under his smooth skin makes you gulp down and take a moment to leave with an excuse of getting some water, because what the hell. why did it look so familiar?

when you come back a few minutes later, everyone’s already left. the air around the dimly lit office is oddly intimate as you step back into it, steps slowing down at the sight of nanami leaning back on his chair, with his sleeves rolled up and a warm towel draped over his eyes. you almost think about leaving to not disturb him, but paperwork doesn’t wait so you proceed forward and the clicking of your heels causes him to straighten up with a tense groan and a low exhale after.

your brain short-circuits because those sounds are engraved in your brain.

and then, when you are debriefing about the projects mentioned in the files and go over various points your boss has mentioned, you can barely focus on what he is saying because his tone and voice are exactly like the stranger’s; low, velvety, deliberate and careful to not disturb the quiet atmosphere. the stranger on those videos used that voice to coax you into cumming your brains out whilst nanami here was trying to get the job done and go home as fast as he could.

and his hands— his fucking hands are also the same. every vein that travels down from his forearms and ends on his knuckles, every crease and every trace: you have stared at them for so long you have burned them into your eyes. how the close over the mouse on the table, how they hold the pen, how they scratch the side of his jaw, how they wrap around the small cup of coffee— how they fisted around his cock and how they teased over its tip, eliciting a sinful groan… you rub your thighs as you look away from nanami, pretending to look for something on your own monitor.

when nanami is throwing on his jacket, you catch yourself trying to measure the width of his shoulders and curse under your breath. no, it can’t be him, you tell yourself even though your lovesick brain tries to convince you that it’s not a coincidence how nanami’s slacks have the same hem stitching and crotch area design as the stranger’s, and how his button-ups sleeves have only 1 button just like stranger’s, and how nanami exhausted sighs sound just like stranger’s and how the line of his collarbones you accidentally see is far too familiar for you to forget.

i’m going crazy, you think, but you’re pretty certain that your coworker, nanami kento, is a pornstar in secret.

-> next part ;)