#sukuna x reader

[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.

[reignpage]

Am I The Asshole?

Smau: in which you think you did something bad Warnings: fluff, crack, not proofread (just a quick nonsensical smau for the weekend) 🫶 Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Yuji, Megumi, Inumaki

[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.

[retiredteabag]

Asking to be big spoon

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, Yuuji, and Megumi

my smau masterlists one and two

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[coralbae]

is that me?

you walk in on him watching… wait why does she look like you? (pre-relationship)

minors and ageless blogs DNI!!

characters: toji, gojo, sukuna, choso, geto, nanami

warnings: nsfw, masturbation, porn mention, dirty talk, morally ambiguous?

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ BARBIE DOLL GF

summary. how your boyfriend feels about you, his barbie doll girlfriend

though he doesn’t outwardly say it, you boyfriend adores how much of a doll you are.

your perfect pedicures with your expensive acrylic nails that he always pays for, your picture perfect makeup that he can’t help but always stare at and all your girly habits that always bring a small smile to his face when he sees just how much you enjoy it.

he’s always calling you a barbie doll because of your appearance, it’s sorta become a nickname for you now.

he loves picking out the pink girly designs of your nails, always hinting at you to get his initial on them as he hands you however much money you need to pay for them. he especially loves the way they look wrapped around his—

what he really loves is when you give him little hauls and fashion shows of the new clothes you bought (with his card). the different tones of pink and white, the cute and sexy lace trimmings. you just look so good in everything, and he seems to have a hard time keeping his hands off you.

and don’t even get him started on the pretty lingerie you buy. the way it hugs your body, showing off you pretty skin that he can’t keep his eyes off. he definitely gets told off a few times for his wandering eyes but he can’t help himself! you’re just so pretty! and he’ll show you that by having you in for a very long, tiresome night.

he even remembers the first time he came into your room. the pink bedding and huge display of plushies on your bed that threw him off a little. like, would they be watching the two of you have sex?

he was super mesmerised by all your little trinkets dotted around your room, having to keep his hands to himself. though, he did feel super out of place as he sat on your pink bed, moving over a hello kitty plushie so he had some room.

but after a while he got used to it, even feeding into your habit by buying you even more stuffed animals and paying for your ridiculously overpriced makeup and clothing. he kinda likes the fact he can dress you up like his own little doll.

what he did notice though was the bratty attitude you started to get. the eye rolls and heavy sighs that escaped your glossy lips, the snarky comments you made in front of his friends. it was starting to get a little too much.

but don’t worry! he knows just the thing that’ll get you to drop that attitude of yours and have you resort back into your sweet, girly self that he knows and loves!!

yoichi isagi , meguru bachira , seishiro nagi , oliver aiku, sae itoshi , satoru gojo , toji fushiguro , ryomen sukuna , katsuki bakugo , hawks | keigo takami , dabi | touya todoroki , tengen uzui , sanemi shinazugawa , kyojuro rengoku

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[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...

[metranart]

➡️ Choose Sylus ➡️Choose Sukuna ➡️ Choose BOTH! ✨ NSFW part 2

[all-with-angel]

𝐂𝐔𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀! •°. *࿐

Summary: Sending them your little... 'homemade video' !~

Including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen, Shoko Ieiri, Uraume

Tags: Established relationship, suggestive, swearing, gn!reader

A.N. Ive noticed that my suggestive/angsty smaus blow up so much! yall are really either sad or horny huh? MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. smau masterlist

Taglist 💞: @mikorinstan

[reignpage]

Candied Picture

Smau: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you sent them a nude? Warnings: cursing, sexual language, mostly crack, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

[bluukive]

Desi Girl

coɴтεɴт - MDNI, PLEASE have age in bio when interacting, sfw, jjk men x desi/south asian!reader, fluff, crack, general South Asian things

cнαrαcтεrѕ - Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Toji, Sukuna

an - idk why I didn't think of writing this sooner LMAO. Yes, I'm bengali. Also clearing up that the way we say the word 'packet' sounds similar to the f slür. I have no intention causing offence as someone who is also in the LGBT community ❤️

Khombol - āss

[coralbae]

bedroom mishaps

accidents happen all the time, right?

minors and ageless blogs DNI!!

characters: toji, geto, gojo, nanami, choso, sukuna

warnings: nsfw, kinda kinky in some, sexy time

a/n: a day will come where i won't bully toji but (un)fortunately, today is not the day

[fangdokja]

"If I fail, I’m blaming you."

❤︎ Synopsis. He swore he could last—thirty days of restraint, thirty days of self-control. But as the weeks drag on and your teasing turns cruel, the tension festers into something darker, something hungrier… until No Nut November isn’t just a challenge—it’s a countdown to his breaking point.

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Soft! Modern AU! Various x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Characters Include. Nerd! Gojo, Biker! Soft! Sukuna, Professor! Half-Dragon! Rex Lapis, Academic Rival! Alhaitham, Older Brother! Sunday, Father! Human! Boothill, Step Brother! Caleb, Bully! Soft! Bakugo, Fuckboy! Atsumu, Virgin! Barou

♡ Kidnapper x Captor Series. The Thirsting - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 11,739 (about 1K each character)

♡ TW. dom + top + older + soft sadist yanderes, non-con + rape, implied Stockholm Syndrome + husband x wife dynamics, dark humor, BDSM + DDLG, incest, language, forced orgasms, overstimulation + raw fucking, inappropriate use of kinks, degradation + humiliation, implied blackmail, public sex, physical assault, slapping + spanking + biting + slight choking, fingering, general manipulation + gaslighting + abuse + trauma, abuse of authority, fingering, fear + primal play + dacryphilia, drugging, somnophilia, slight omegaverse inspiration, breeding + knotting

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝! 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✦✧✦✧

He lasts exactly four days. Four miserable, frustrating, agonizing days.

At first, it was just a stupid challenge—something he saw online, some meme about mental fortitude, about proving you're a real man by abstaining for a month. Gojo laughed at it. Scoffed. He’s an apex predator, above all these pathetic mortal compulsions. Sex? It’s fun. It’s entertainment. It’s a game he plays with you because he can.

The first day is easy. He’s amused by the whole concept, smirking at his phone as he lounges on the couch, watching you move about the apartment like some oblivious little prey animal. You’re always so serious, so unaware of how much he enjoys winding you up.

The second day, he’s a little irritated. Not because he’s struggling. (Of course not.) But because you look extra nice today, and he doesn’t appreciate being inconvenienced by his own self-imposed restraint. He tells himself it’s fine. He’ll just tease you a little, maybe rile you up for fun.

The third day, he starts thinking about how soft you are. How easy you are to break. How much he loves watching your body struggle, shiver, seize up around him. It’s not fair, really. You’re right there. In his space. In his home. His. He catches himself staring at you too much, fingers twitching with the desire to touch. He spends the entire night in bed, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, thinking about the way you sound when he fucks you deep enough to ruin you.

By the fourth day, he’s feral.

And it’s your fault.

Because you’re walking around, existing, breathing, wearing that stupid oversized sweater he bought you, drowning in the fabric like you don’t even realize how damn tempting you are. It’s infuriating. He watches you tuck your knees up onto the couch, tilting your head at your book, completely unaware that he’s sitting there, gripping his phone so hard it might crack, trying to remember why the hell he ever thought this was a good idea.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he mutters.

You blink, confused. “Doing what?”

His eye twitches.

Fucking hell. You actually don’t know. You’re sitting there, curled up like some delicate little thing, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s been battling the urge to pin you down and break you open for the past twenty-four hours.

“Doesn’t matter,” he breathes out, pushing himself up from the couch. He has to leave the room. Has to get away from you before he does something regrettable.

He barely makes it three steps.

You shift. Just slightly. Just enough that the hem of that godforsaken sweater slides up your thigh, exposing the soft skin beneath.

And it’s over.

He’s on you before you even realize he’s moved. A startled gasp leaves your lips as he yanks the book from your hands and tosses it aside, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Satoru—”

“Shut up,” he hisses, voice raw, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

His breath is hot against your ear. His fingers squeeze tight around your wrists.

“I’ve been patient.” His teeth graze the shell of your ear, his weight pressing you down into the couch. “I’ve been good. I’ve been so fucking good.”

Your stomach twists. There’s something unhinged in his voice, something dangerous in the way his entire body trembles against yours.

“But you just had to make it hard for me, huh?” His lips ghost over your throat. “Walking around like that. Looking at me like that.”

You weren’t looking at him in any particular way. But you know better than to argue.

His hands slide beneath your sweater, yanking it up and over your head, leaving you exposed. You shiver at the sudden cold, at the hungry way his eyes drag over your bare skin.

“Fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than you. He palms at your chest, rough and greedy, like he’s making up for lost time. “You’re unreal. So fucking soft. So fucking perfect.”

He’s already pulling at your shorts, dragging them down along with your underwear, fingers pressing against the heat between your legs. He groans, low and guttural.

“You’re already wet?” His voice is dripping with condescension. He presses a finger inside, slow, teasing. “You’re filthier than I thought.”

You bite back a sound, turning your head away.

He doesn’t like that.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” he croons, shoving another finger in, stretching you open. “I want to hear how much you need me.”

Your body betrays you, arching into his touch, clenching around him in ways that make his restraint snap entirely.

“Fuck, I can’t—” His voice is a mess of frustration and desire. He shoves his sweats down, free hand gripping your thigh, forcing your legs apart. “I need this. I need you.”

You barely have time to gasp before he thrusts inside, bottoming out in one rough stroke. The stretch burns, forcing a strangled cry from your throat.

His head drops against your shoulder. His breath is ragged, shuddering, like he’s just barely holding on to the last thread of his sanity.

“Holy shit,” he groans. “So tight. So fucking tight.”

You dig your nails into his arms, gasping, struggling to adjust, but he doesn’t give you the chance. He pulls back and slams into you again, rough, deep, needy.

“I’m not stopping,” he warns, grip bruising as he pounds into you. “I don’t care how much you beg.”

You don’t beg. But you do sob. Do whimper. Do cry out as he fucks you with all the pent-up frustration of the past four days, holding nothing back, taking and taking until the only thing you can do is cling to him and endure it.

And he loves it. Loves how helpless you are beneath him. Loves how you squeeze around him, gripping him like you were made for him.

“You feel that?” he pants against your throat. “Feel how deep I am?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Say it.”

You don’t, so he slaps your thigh, sharp enough to make you yelp.

“Say it.”

“You’re—” You gasp as he thrusts particularly deep, your whole body jolting. “You’re deep—!”

His laugh is breathless, wicked.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t stop. Not until you’re shaking beneath him, reduced to a mess of choked sobs and broken gasps. Not until he’s had his fill, until he’s spilling inside you with a guttural groan, pressing his weight against you, keeping you trapped as he rides out his release.

His breath is uneven against your skin. His fingers loosen just slightly on your hips.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Fuck that challenge.”

He kisses your temple, slow, mocking.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 ✦✧✦✧

You were a good girl.

That was the problem.

The worst fucking problem, actually, because Ryōmen Sukuna had always been in fucking control. Of himself, of his gang, of every fucking thing in his miserable excuse of a life. He prided himself on his ability to override base instincts, to never get played by his own urges. He was a damn legend in the underground, and his name alone had men pissing their pants.

But it had been twenty-eight days.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-eight fucking days of No Nut November because his gang had called him out, and he was no shitty pussy. He'd laughed, sneered, spat on the floor, and told them all to eat shit if they thought he couldn’t handle it. And for a while, it had been easy.

He thought it was beneath him, just a dumbass social challenge that only weak-willed men struggled with. But now, staring at you—his wife, his property, his ultimate possession—he was realizing something.

He was going to fucking snap.

You weren’t even doing anything.

That was the worst part.

You were just there, sitting in his apartment in one of his oversized shirts that barely covered the tops of your thighs, legs tucked up on the couch as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. So fucking innocent. So fucking oblivious to what you did to him.

He wanted to rip that innocence apart.

His hands curled into fists as he sucked his teeth, his jaw flexing. He shouldn’t be this worked up, shouldn’t feel like his skin was on fire just from looking at you, but fuck, damn it—

You were his.

And he had rules.

“You should cover up,” he muttered, voice low and rough as he rolled his shoulders, trying to ignore the throbbing in his jeans.

You flinched slightly at his tone, but your fingers tightened around your phone, and that made something ugly burn in him.

“I—”

He was already on you before you could finish.

His body moved on instinct, months—years—of control slipping like sand through his fingers. His knees hit the couch, trapping your legs under his weight as he wrenched the phone out of your grip and tossed it onto the coffee table.

You barely had time to gasp before his hand was fisting in your hair, dragging your head back as his mouth crashed against your throat.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t soft.

It was violent, teeth sinking into the delicate skin just below your jaw, his other hand yanking the hem of the shirt up, exposing your bare thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“I’ve had enough.” His voice was a snarl against your throat, frustration laced with something darker, something that made his vision blur. “You fucking did this.”

“I—” Your hands scrambled against his chest, pushing against the leather of his jacket. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Exactly.” His laugh was sharp, cruel, breath hot against your skin as his grip tightened. “You just sit there, acting all innocent, like you don’t know what you fucking do to me.”

You whimpered as he spread your legs apart with his knee, pressing between them, forcing them open.

Twenty-eight days.

He had never gone that long without fucking something—someone. His self-control had been admirable. Legendary, even. But you?

You were his fucking kryptonite.

His patience snapped like a live wire.

His mouth was on yours before you could scream, swallowing the sound with a vicious kiss, biting down on your lower lip until he tasted blood. Your nails clawed at him, a weak, pathetic attempt to push him off, but it only made him harder, made him hungrier.

“Too late to run now,” he growled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand.

His other hand shoved your thighs further apart, fingers pressing against your slit, finding you untouched, unready. He groaned against your mouth, grinding against your core through his jeans, feeling the rough denim scrape against your soft, sensitive skin.

You were shaking under him.

Good.

You should be afraid.

Because he wasn’t stopping.

Not this time.

His fingers forced their way inside you, stretching you open, punishingly slow, savoring the way you gasped and clenched around him.

“Fuck—so tight,” he gritted out, eyes flashing as he watched your face contort, your brows furrowed, your lips parted in an involuntary moan.

Your body betrayed you.

It always did.

And he loved it.

“Bet you thought I’d keep playing nice,” he murmured against your ear, curling his fingers inside you until you whimpered. “Thought I’d keep my hands to myself, be a ‘good husband,’ huh?”

Your eyes welled with tears, your breath coming in ragged, choked sobs as you shook your head frantically. “No—Sukuna, please—”

“Please?” He let out a cruel laugh, pulling his fingers out just to push them back in harder, deeper. “Please what? Please fuck you?”

Your face burned with shame, your body arching despite your desperate protests.

He ripped himself out of his jeans in the next second, pulling your hips up, spreading you wide.

“No—no, wait, please—”

But he didn’t wait.

He slammed inside you in one brutal thrust, forcing your body to take him, ignoring the way you cried out, ignoring the way your nails dug into his forearm.

You were too fucking tight, too hot, too perfect.

Twenty-eight days.

And it was worth every single fucking second.

His body caged you in, his weight pressing down, suffocating, drowning you in him. His pace was punishing, brutal, every thrust dragging a sob from your throat, every snap of his hips pushing you further into the couch.

He was going to ruin you.

Own you.

Like he always had.

Your breath hitched as he pressed his forehead against yours, his hand still pinning your wrists, his other hand gripping your hip so hard it would bruise. His eyes were wild, frenzied, filled with something dark and violent and all-consuming.

He wasn’t just fucking you.

He was claiming you.

Every single thrust sent you deeper into submission, your resistance breaking apart piece by piece, until all you could do was sob, moan, take it—take him.

Your body betrayed you again.

It always did.

You clenched around him, your walls tightening, pulsing, dragging him deeper.

And he laughed—low, breathless, almost cruel.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger, pressing his lips to your cheek, your jaw, your throat, biting down. “Fuck—squeezing me so good.”

You whimpered, shaking your head, the last vestiges of your defiance crumbling as he fucked you harder, deeper, faster.

“You love this,” he groaned, his pace growing erratic, desperate.

You gasped, body arching, your thighs trembling.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice dangerous, threatening.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out—only choked sobs, whimpers, moans.

His grip tightened on your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it.”

You shuddered, your body going rigid as pleasure crashed over you, violent and unforgiving.

He felt it.

Felt you coming undone around him.

And he followed, his body tensing, his breath catching as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself so deep you could feel every pulse, every throb.

A shuddering, possessive exhale left his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours.

He’s done playing. Done pretending he has control when you’ve stolen it just by existing.

Ryōmen Sukuna never loses.

Except to you.

And he’s going to make sure you fucking feel it.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫! 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧! 𝐑𝐞𝐱 𝐋𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬 ✦✧✦✧

The first mistake was overhearing his students. The second was letting his curiosity get the better of him.

It had started as a whisper—muted, nervous giggles from the back of his lecture hall. He didn’t need to look to know they were slacking, but the unfamiliar phrase caught his attention.

“No Nut November.”

A ridiculous mortal invention, no doubt, but it had his students flustered. When he turned his head, sharp ochre eyes slicing through the sea of desks, the culprits had frozen in place like rabbits caught before a dragon’s maw. He did not entertain foolishness in his lectures. A single raised brow had them fumbling for an explanation.

“Professor Zhongli! We—uh—uhm—it’s a, uh, challenge—”

A challenge? He expected something academic.

“—A celibacy challenge.”

He had scoffed, shaking his head at their nonsense. Mortal men and their desperate, pathetic attempts at self-control. What weak creatures, undone by the absence of indulgence.

And yet—he found himself entertained by the notion.

So he tried it.

For two days, it was nothing. For five, irritation gnawed at his patience. But by the seventh, he was suffering. His discipline had never failed him before, and yet every minuscule movement, every insignificant scent—everything—was suddenly too much. He smelled your perfume on his papers. He caught the memory of your voice in his empty office. And when you passed by, oblivious to the monster unraveling at the seams, he had to grip his desk to stop himself from dragging you inside and snapping the foolish, self-imposed chains that kept him in check.

It was no longer just about the challenge. No longer about proving his willpower. It was about you. It was always about you.

And now—now he was in heat.

His instincts had been manageable before. A nuisance at best. A buried instinct. A dragon who learned to sleep within its host. But the longer he held back, the stronger the cravings became. His rationality fractured, giving way to base urges he had long since tamed.

It wasn’t just about release anymore.

It was about sinking his teeth into the softness of your neck. About caging you beneath his weight, forcing you to take every inch of him, to whimper and tremble as he filled you again and again and again until his body had wrung every last drop into yours.

He had no choice.

✦✧✦✧

You were unprepared when it happened.

The door had been unlocked. You hadn’t thought anything of it—he was always in his office late, correcting papers, drinking tea, perfectly poised in the way that made your skin crawl. You had only meant to drop off the assignments, a brief interaction, nothing more.

But the moment you stepped inside, you knew something was wrong.

A heat—heavy and suffocating, thick in the air like the press of an unseen predator. The scent of him, something richer, muskier, clawed its way down your throat, leaving your head spinning. The papers slipped from your fingers.

He was already behind you.

“Professor—”

A hand curled around your waist.

The breath hitched in your lungs as a broad chest pressed against your back. Heat. Overwhelming, scorching heat, rolling off of him in waves, like the breath of a beast ready to consume. You stiffened, every nerve screaming in warning, but it was already too late.

“I tried,” he murmured, voice thick with something beyond mere desire. His lips ghosted along your neck, tracing the rapid pulse beneath fragile skin. “But you make it impossible.”

Your breath caught. A shiver raced through you, a stark contrast to the molten need coiling in his chest.

“R-Rex Lapis—”

A mistake. Speaking only made it worse. Your voice—soft, uncertain—had him rumbling deep in his throat, the vibration reverberating through your spine. He spun you in his grasp, pressing you against the desk in a single, fluid motion.

And then you saw his eyes.

No longer amber, but slitted gold, burning with something ancient, something ravenous. His pupils, narrowed to dagger-thin slits, raked over you with the ownership of a beast who had found its mate. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, scenting you, memorizing you.

Your stomach dropped.

“This isn’t—”

“You will take it,” he interrupted, tone brooking no argument. “Because I have held back long enough.”

His mouth crashed over yours, devouring, claiming. Fangs dragged against your lips, sharp enough to break skin. His tongue forced its way inside, swallowing your protests, your feeble resistance, smothering you in the suffocating press of his hunger.

Then his hands were on you. Tearing at fabric. Peeling away barriers that had no right to exist. His breath was ragged, his growl reverberating through your chest as he pushed you onto the desk, a predator pinning its prey.

Your voice was hoarse, words lost between desperate gasps. “No, please—”

His grip tightened.

“You’re mine.”

Then he was inside you.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as he forced himself into you, splitting you open, stretching you far beyond what you could handle. He was too thick, too long, a monstrous shape fitting into something far too small. Your body fought against him, instinctively trying to push him out, but he didn’t relent. He shoved in deeper, until you were filled to the brim, until your walls clenched around him, helplessly trying to accommodate his sheer size.

A guttural groan rumbled from deep within his chest. His hands caged your wrists above your head, rendering you utterly powerless beneath him.

“Perfect,” he hissed. “Made to take me.”

He pulled back, only to slam into you again, forcing a scream from your lips. Again. Harder. His claws dragged against your skin, leaving faint trails of red, marking you, branding you. His pace was relentless—brutal thrusts designed to break you, to mold you into something only he could own.

Your legs trembled, your body wracked with shock, overstimulation, helpless pleasure tangled with raw pain. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His instincts roared, demanding more, demanding everything.

Then you felt it—his knot swelling at the base, locking him inside, preventing any escape. His grip tightened as he rutted against you, chasing his release, desperate to breed, to claim you in every sense of the word.

And when he finally spilled into you, it was with a vicious snarl—a beast triumphant in its conquest. The sensation was unbearable—thick, scalding heat filling you, overflowing, your body forced to take everything he had to give.

You gasped, shuddering, trapped beneath the weight of him.

He exhaled heavily, nuzzling into your hair, inhaling the scent of his victory.

“No more foolish challenges,” he murmured darkly. “You are all I need.”

His knot throbbed inside you, locking you in place.

You weren’t going anywhere.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥! 𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ✦✧✦✧

Alhaitham was supposed to be above this. Detached. Unmoved. The cold hand of logic, sculpting the perfect experiment.

But you—

You were the flaw in his theory. And now, he was going to ruin you for it.

It started with a challenge. A careless remark, thrown his way in the middle of yet another heated argument in the library. Your voice laced with that infuriating self-satisfaction, eyes gleaming with the prospect of besting him at something—anything.

“I bet you wouldn’t last a month without touching me.”

Foolish.

He had let the words sink into his mind, assessing the probability of your provocation being a genuine wager or simply a means to tease him. Either way, it was irrelevant.

He accepted.

Not because he feared losing—he wouldn’t. He was a man of discipline, of reason, of pure intellectual pursuit unmarred by base instinct. He’d observe. He’d collect data. And, at the end of the thirty days, he’d have the satisfaction of proving his theory: you would crumble first.

You always did, in the end.

Day one passed without difficulty. Day three, and he noted a spike in your awareness of his presence—sharpened posture, sidelong glances. By the end of the first week, your defiance had started to wane. You were always so easy to read, every shift of your body an unconscious confession.

Except you weren’t breaking.

Weeks passed, and you remained—infuriatingly—unchanged.

But he was not.

By day fifteen, his observations had turned into obsessions. He thought about you in the silence of his study, in the middle of lectures, in the suffocating hush of night when the only sound was the relentless pulse of his own breathing. The memory of your voice, your scent, the unbearable softness of your skin—he had assumed these were variables he could control.

A miscalculation.

Day twenty, and the frustration had settled into something deeper. A primal, gnawing hunger that reason alone could not temper. He found himself dissecting your every movement, cataloging the way your lips parted when deep in thought, the absentminded way you bit your pen. He should have been writing research papers; instead, he was memorizing the way your thighs shifted when you crossed your legs.

By day twenty-five, it was unbearable.

It was not merely the absence of pleasure that tormented him—it was the fact that you knew.

That look in your eyes, that slow, taunting smile whenever he stiffened under your gaze. The way you would brush past him just a little too close, your breath ghosting over his ear. It wasn’t conscious, it couldn’t be—you didn’t have the capacity for such deliberate cruelty. And yet, every unknowing tease was a blade to his restraint, carving away the last vestiges of his resolve.

Day twenty-eight, and he could taste the inevitable.

It was your fault.

You shouldn’t have provoked him. Shouldn’t have stared at him like that, shouldn’t have spoken in that hushed voice, shouldn’t have looked so damn untouchable.

Day twenty-nine. He lost.

You never saw it coming.

One moment, you were studying alone in the library, bent over your notes, and the next—a shadow loomed behind you, his presence a suffocating weight. The warning was barely a whisper, his voice a cold, shuddering rasp against your skin.

“Experiment concluded.”

Then he struck.

The chair scraped violently as he yanked you back against him, his grip bruising, unrelenting. Your protest died in your throat as he dragged you from the room, past the shelves, past the empty corridors—until the world narrowed to four locked walls, suffocating silence, and the realization that there was no escape.

You squirmed, thrashed, spat curses at him, but it only made his grip tighten, his breath slow, measured. Studying. Always studying.

“Do you even realize,” he murmured, his voice a velvet snarl, “what you’ve done to me?”

He forced you against the desk, the edge biting into your stomach as his hands traced their way down, pressing, claiming, branding.

“I was supposed to be above this.”

He buried his face against your neck, inhaling, reveling in the scent that had haunted him for weeks.

“But you—”

Fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt, riding up. The moment he touched bare skin, something in him shattered. A growl, low and primal, ripped from his throat.

“You ruined me.”

Then he took you. Violently. Mercilessly. Every ounce of pent-up rage and starvation turned to raw, unforgiving force. He pinned you down, his body caging yours, devouring every sound you made.

There was no preamble, no warning, just the sudden, brutal stretch of intrusion. Your cry of pain only made his grip tighten, his hips jerking forward in a punishing rhythm. He didn’t care that you weren’t ready. He didn’t care that you were trembling beneath him, gasping, clawing at the desk in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

This was his experiment.

And you were the data.

His thrusts were sharp, deliberate, calculated to tear you apart. His breath was ragged against your ear, words spilling out in dark, venomous whispers.

“Look at you. You thought you could win?”

Your hands scrabbled against his grip, but he only pressed you harder into the desk, bending over you, trapping you in place as he drove into you relentlessly.

“I should have known,” he hissed, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise. “You were always so infuriatingly arrogant.”

A sharp slap against your thigh made you jolt, the sting amplifying your helplessness. He laughed at your reaction, a cruel, breathless sound.

“You wanted to break me.”

A particularly vicious thrust knocked the air from your lungs, and your whimper only seemed to spur him on.

“Guess what, little scholar?”

Another slap, this time against your ass. Your body jolted forward, and he caught you by the throat, dragging you back against him, forcing your spine to arch as his pace turned frenzied.

“You failed.”

And so he fucked you—until you were a ruined, trembling mess beneath him, until your throat was raw from screaming, until there was nothing left but the shattered remnants of his broken restraint and the brutal certainty that he would never let you go.

By the time he finished, spent and panting, his hands remained locked around your hips, his weight heavy against your back. He pressed a final, lingering kiss to the nape of your neck—a mockery of tenderness.

Then he leaned down, his voice dripping with the satisfaction of a man who had just rewritten his own hypothesis.

“I lost the challenge,” he admitted, his lips curling into a smirk against your sweat-slicked skin.

Then he pulled you up, tilting your chin back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“But you,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bruised lips,

“lost far worse.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 ✦✧✦✧

He sits at the dining table, posture elegant, swirling the wine in his glass with the practiced ease of someone who has long mastered the art of control. Everything about him radiates refinement—his pristine white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, the expensive watch that glints under the chandelier, the way he sips his drink with deliberate slowness. He is a man of discipline.

And yet, his hands tighten around the stem of the glass when she moves.

You sit across from him, oblivious, nursing your own meal in silence. The domesticity of the scene is normal, even peaceful—except for the way his muscles coil, the way his gaze darkens, the way his mind fights against the need that has been clawing at him for weeks.

No Nut November.

It was a ridiculous concept, a meaningless challenge men put upon themselves to boast about their so-called self-control. It should have been effortless for him. He had restraint woven into his very being, a man who lived by his own unyielding principles.

But that was before you.

Before you entered his life, before you became his, before the sight of you—your quiet defiance, the way you carried yourself, the way your lips pressed together when you were deep in thought—began to gnaw at his carefully maintained composure.

"Oh, I was talking to my friends today," Robin chirps, her presence disrupting the heavy tension that only he seems to notice. She sits at the table beside him, completely unaware of the war raging in his mind. "Apparently, their boyfriends are all trying this thing called ‘No Nut November.’ Have you heard of it, Sunday?"

His jaw ticks. "Hn."

"It’s, like, where guys don’t—y'know—for a whole month. Can you believe it?" She laughs, shaking her head. "I don’t get it. Why do they do that to themselves?"

His grip tightens on the glass, knuckles whitening.

He doesn’t need to be reminded. He is already suffering.

"And guess what?" Robin leans in conspiratorially, grinning. "Most of them already failed. It’s only been two weeks. My friend’s boyfriend lasted like… three days. Can you imagine?"

You shift slightly, crossing your legs, and his gaze immediately zeroes in on the movement. His breath comes slower, heavier. His mouth feels dry.

"How pathetic," he murmurs, voice smooth as silk. "A man with no control over himself is hardly a man at all."

Robin giggles, nodding in agreement. "Right? That’s what I thought too! I bet you could do it, though. You’re, like, the most self-disciplined person I know."

He exhales through his nose. "Of course."

And yet, he already knows he’s going to fail.

The second Robin retires for the night, he moves.

✦✧✦✧

The bedroom light was dim, casting soft golden glows over your sleeping form. The sheets barely covered you, slipping off your body, revealing the delicate silk nightgown that clung to your curves.

Sunday inhaled deeply. He knew you weren’t awake—the drug ensured that. Your breath was slow, deep, your lashes fluttering slightly. He had done this before, after all. The dose was perfect: enough to keep you in a helpless dreamscape, not enough to endanger you.

You were so defenseless like this.

His beautiful, unwilling little wife.

His fingers ghosted over your bare thigh. He could already imagine it—the way you’d wake up aching, bruised, slick with evidence of what he had done. The confusion in your voice, the horrified realization when you shifted your legs and felt it. He almost smirked.

But tonight, tonight he was beyond desperate.

Undoing his belt, he let his cock spring free, thick and hard, twitching at the very sight of you. The weight of the past few weeks had been unbearable. The pent-up frustration, the heat, the sheer madness of knowing you were there, day after day, untouched. He had deluded himself into thinking he could endure it.

Foolish.

He spread your legs slowly, savoring the motion. You sighed softly, a small unconscious noise. His cock throbbed at that, at the sheer intimacy of it. You had no idea what he was about to do, what he was about to take.

It made it all the better.

He pushed inside you in one slow, relentless thrust.

Even drugged, your body reacted. A small twitch, a shift in breath, muscles unconsciously tightening. He groaned, gripping your hips as he buried himself deeper.

“So tight,” he murmured against your skin. “Even in your sleep, your body knows who owns it.”

The stretch was divine, the heat near unbearable. He moved, thrusting slowly at first, savoring every second, feeling the way you molded around him. His hands roamed, fingers trailing over your stomach, your breasts, your throat. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to feel your pulse beneath his palm.

He imagined you waking up like this.

The way your eyes would widen, realization dawning. The way you’d try to move, only to find yourself weak, helpless, at his mercy. He’d hush you, coo in your ear, tell you how beautiful you looked like this, how you should be grateful for his love.

The bed creaked slightly as he fucked into you harder. He was drowning in it, in you, in the sheer ecstasy of finally breaking his ridiculous restraint.

He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear.

“You should thank me,” he murmured. “I was such a good husband this month. But you don’t mind, do you? You love being my perfect little wife.”

A small moan escaped your lips, involuntary, soft and broken.

His cock twitched at the sound.

God, he wouldn’t last.

The past weeks had been pure torture. He should’ve never entertained the thought of abstaining. It had only made him crazier, made him need you more.

His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, the pleasure coiling hot in his gut. He gripped your chin, tilting your head slightly so he could see your face—so peaceful, so unaware, so perfectly his.

He came with a shuddering groan, spilling deep inside you, filling you with the proof of his obsession.

For a moment, he just stayed there, still buried in your heat, panting softly.

Then he pulled out, watching the way his cum slowly dripped from your abused hole. He traced a finger through the mess, pushing some of it back inside.

You shifted slightly, but didn’t wake.

Good girl.

He cleaned you up, smoothing the sheets back into place. He wouldn’t want you suspecting too soon. No, the true delight was in the morning—in seeing your confused, hesitant expression, the way your fingers would trail over your body, the way horror would bloom in your eyes as realization struck.

And when you turned to him, searching for answers, he would only smile.

Because, really, who else could it have been?

He kissed your forehead softly.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧! 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦✧✦✧

The old bastard lasted a whole two weeks. Fourteen damn days without stuffing his cock into something soft and willing—or unwilling, like you. It was a personal best, truly, but you knew the moment you opened your bratty mouth and taunted him, he'd snap like a rusted barbed wire fence under too much tension.

"C'mon, Daddy. Do you really think you can last all month? Pathetic," you scoffed, your arms crossed beneath your chest, the smirk on your lips something cruel.

Boothill’s eyes went dark with a simmering heat, the kind that scorched earth and burned bridges. A deep, slow inhale through his nose, like a bull about to charge, nostrils flaring as he set his jaw. His fingers twitched at his sides, gloved hands flexing.

“Darlin',” he drawled, that thick cowboy accent heavy with warning. “You got a real bad habit of runnin' that pretty mouth.”

You knew what you were doing. Teasing him, flaunting yourself around the house in nothing but thin little shorts and tank tops, stretching in front of him, acting so fucking untouchable. That damn mouth of yours spewed venom, but it was your eyes that really set him off—the way you looked down on him, like he was some old dog barking up the wrong tree. Like he was weak.

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Of you prancing around, of him gripping his cock late at night and gritting his teeth until his jaw nearly cracked, all to keep himself from breaking this stupid fucking challenge. He could have anyone, any desperate whore in town, but it had to be you. It was always you.

And tonight, you’d made the mistake of calling him pathetic.

You barely had time to process the shift in the air before he was on you. A sharp inhale, a step back, but there was nowhere to run. He was bigger, stronger, faster. Always had been. A calloused palm caught your wrist, yanking you forward so hard you nearly tripped into his chest.

“Nuh-uh, don’t get shy now,” he cooed, voice syrup-thick with amusement. His grip tightened. “You was runnin’ that mouth just fine a minute ago.”

His other hand slid down your spine, slow, deliberate, before palming the curve of your ass through those little shorts. He hummed low in his throat, a deep, gravelly sound of approval that sent something ugly twisting in your gut.

"See, I been real nice, sugar. Real patient." He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he exhaled, hot and damp. "But now, you done gone an' poked the damn bear."

You gasped as he hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, his arm locking over your thighs to keep you from kicking. The world tilted, your fists hammering at his back, but it was useless. He was solid muscle beneath that worn-out flannel, all brute force and raw power. You were nothing but a little thing in his grasp.

"Lemme go!" You snarled, twisting in his hold.

"Oh, I’ll let you go, alright," he mused, kicking open the bedroom door with his boot. "Right onto my fuckin’ cock."

The bed creaked beneath his weight as he threw you down onto the mattress. Before you could scramble away, he was on you, pinning you with his sheer bulk. His thighs caged yours apart, and he grabbed your wrists, forcing them above your head in a bruising grip.

His belt buckle clinked. The leather slid free in one smooth motion, and before you could fight, he looped it around your wrists, tightening it until the soft flesh pressed against the worn leather.

"There," he murmured, admiring his work. "Now, ain't that a pretty sight?"

He was hard. So fucking hard. The thick length of him strained against his jeans, the outline obscene as he rolled his hips against your trapped body.

Your breath hitched.

"Boothill—"

"Daddy," he corrected sharply, fingers curling around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Those dark, molten irises were blown wide, barely a sliver of brown left. "You wanna talk big, sugar, you better know how to address me proper."

Your lips pressed into a defiant line, and his smirk widened.

"Mm. That so?"

The next thing you knew, he had you flipped onto your stomach, yanking those flimsy shorts down to expose the soft swell of your ass. A rough palm smoothed over the flesh before landing a sharp, stinging slap that made you jolt.

“Look at this. Ain’t even touched you yet, an’ you already squirmin’,” he chuckled, voice dripping with condescension. “Like a bitch in heat.”

You cursed, but it only earned you another slap. Harder this time. The force of it sent heat lancing through your core, and the shame that curled in your gut made your eyes sting.

A shuffling of fabric, the unmistakable rustle of a zipper being undone.

He pressed the blunt, leaking head of his cock between your legs, dragging it along your slick folds with a low, satisfied growl.

"Knew it," he murmured, voice smug. "Knew this little cunt was lyin’ to me. Y’mouth says no, but this?” He rolled his hips, smearing precum along your slit. "This fuckin’ drippin’ little hole says ‘please, Daddy, fuck me stupid.’”

You tried to squirm away, but his arm looped around your waist, dragging you flush against him.

Then he pushed in.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as his cock stretched you wide, the intrusion too much, too thick. His hands dug into your hips, keeping you pinned as he bottomed out with a low groan.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he rasped, breath hitching. “Takin’ me so damn good.”

You shook your head, nails digging into your palms. “S-stop—”

Boothill laughed, a sharp, mean thing.

“Nah, baby, you started this.” He snapped his hips forward, knocking the breath from your lungs. “An’ now? I’m gonna finish it.”

He set a brutal pace. Deep, punishing thrusts that had you clawing at the sheets, your cries muffled by the mattress as he fucked you like a damn animal. His grip was bruising, fingers digging deep enough to leave marks. Each roll of his hips sent heat sparking up your spine, every drag and push forcing your body to betray you.

The worst part? He knew it.

“Knew you’d take it,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice thick with hunger. “Knew this little cunt was made for me.”

You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, but the way he was hitting that spot inside you made it impossible to hold back the pathetic whimpers spilling past your lips.

His hand slid between your legs, two fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles.

“Go on, sugar,” he murmured. “Give in. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

You choked back a sob, body tightening, traitorous pleasure coiling in your stomach. The heat built, higher, sharper—until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Boothill groaned as your walls fluttered around him, his thrusts growing sloppy. He was close.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, his rhythm faltering. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Give this pussy what it’s beggin’ for.”

You barely had time to register his words before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside you with a low, satisfied growl. His cock twitched, pumping you full, his breath hot against your sweat-damp skin.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air.

Then, finally, he sighed, satisfied.

“Guess that means I lost the challenge, huh?”

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pressed a lazy kiss to your damp temple. “Oh well. ‘Spose I’ll just have to make up for it by fuckin’ ya all month long instead.”

You whimpered.

He grinned.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 ✦✧✦✧

The challenge was a joke.

"There's no fucking way you can do it," they had laughed, slapping his back. "A whole month without touching her? Please, Caleb, you worship that woman. You're going to fail day one."

His smile was slow, lazy, that of a man humoring a bunch of idiots. "Watch me."

And now, two weeks in, he wanted to fucking kill someone.

It was absurd, really, how much self-control he had to exert. He was a grown man, a rational one, and yet the sheer thought of you—his little wife—was enough to send blood surging to his cock. You, oblivious and sweet, existing in his space, completely unaware of how deep you were in his grip.

Caleb had been patient. Patient when you never saw him as more than an older brother. Patient when you played hard to get, not realizing you were never playing at all—because you never fucking wanted him. He had let you pretend you had a choice, let you live in blissful ignorance, all while orchestrating every step of your downfall. And now, after finally claiming you, this stupid challenge was forcing him to pull back.

It was unbearable.

He sat on the couch, watching you move around the apartment. You were in one of his old shirts—too big, slipping off one shoulder, riding up your thighs. No bra. He knew because he had been staring at the curve of your tits through the thin fabric, watching your nipples pebble against the cool air. His jaw ticked.

"Something wrong?" you asked, noticing the way he was looking at you.

Something wrong?

Yes. Everything was wrong.

His cock was hard. Had been for days. His balls ached with the force of his restraint, and every single part of him screamed to bend you over and fuck the challenge to hell.

"Come here," he said instead, voice low.

You hesitated—smart girl—but you obeyed, stepping into his space.

Big mistake.

His hands were on you before you could react, gripping your hips, pulling you between his legs. You made a noise of protest, one that immediately died when he yanked you down onto his lap.

"C-Caleb—!"

"Shhh." His voice was smooth, but there was nothing kind in it. "I've been good, haven't I? Been real patient."

Your breath hitched as he shifted, making sure you felt the full weight of his cock pressing against your core. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

His laugh was sharp. "Lying's not a good look on you, sweetheart. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Been prancing around like a fucking tease. And I’ve been trying so damn hard—”

His grip tightened, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in. "—but you’re making it impossible."

You swallowed, stiffening against him. "This is about that challenge, isn't it? The stupid No Nut thing?"

He grinned against your throat. "See? You do know."

You shifted, trying to pull back, but he didn't let you. "I didn’t— I wasn't trying to make it hard for you—"

"You weren't trying, huh? Walking around in my shirts, looking all soft, all sweet." His hands trailed under the fabric, squeezing your thighs. "Making these little sounds when you stretch, like you're just begging to be fucked."

You shuddered. "Caleb—"

"Tell me to stop."

You froze.

His hands didn't move. His voice was calm. Controlled.

"Tell me to stop, and I'll let go."

You hesitated. Because you knew the truth. Knew that even if you said it, even if you fought, it wouldn’t matter. Not really.

His fingers dug into your skin, dragging you harder against him. "See? You won't. Because deep down, you know you’re mine."

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering as he lifted you, carrying you to the bedroom with ease. He tossed you onto the bed, watching you bounce, watching the way your thighs pressed together in some futile attempt to block him out.

Pathetic.

"I was going to be good," he murmured, stripping his shirt off, revealing the sheer size of him. The broad frame. The thick muscles. He looked like a gentle giant to everyone else. But you? You knew better. "I was going to win."

You scrambled back against the pillows, shaking your head, but he was already on you, caging you in, his body massive over yours.

"But then you had to go and make it so fucking difficult."

His mouth was on yours before you could reply, devouring, rough and insistent, swallowing your protests. His hands tore at your clothes, fabric ripping under his grip, baring you to his gaze.

And then—his cock.

Too big.

Your body tensed, panic setting in. "No—Caleb, I can't—"

He hushed you, pressing you down, positioning himself at your entrance. "Shhh, sweetheart. It'll fit."

Your nails raked down his back as he pushed in, splitting you apart. You sobbed, body clenching around the intrusion, but he only groaned, sinking deeper.

"Fuck, you feel good," he panted, voice wrecked. "Knew you would."

Your legs kicked against the mattress, tears streaking your face as he bottomed out. He was too deep, stretching you too wide, leaving no room for escape.

Caleb pulled back only to slam back in, forcing a wail from your throat. He was rough, relentless, hands bruising against your hips as he fucked you into the mattress.

"Been holding back too long," he gritted, breath ragged. "You think you can just exist like this? In my space? In my clothes? And I’m just supposed to sit back?"

You whimpered, nails clawing at his arms, but he only laughed, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. "Nah, sweetheart. You're mine. And I’m done pretending otherwise."

Each thrust drove the air from your lungs, his size overwhelming, splitting you apart like you were made for him. The weight of him, the sheer strength, was too much. You could feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your body betraying you, responding to the brutal pace.

He felt it too. "There you go," he murmured, licking the tears from your cheek. "Knew you'd take me like a good girl."

You sobbed, shaking your head, but your body didn’t listen. Pleasure crept in, unwanted and cruel, mixing with the pain.

Caleb's thrusts turned desperate, his grip bruising. "Fuck—gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Make sure you never doubt who you belong to."

You choked on a scream as he drove in to the hilt, his cock pulsing, his body shaking as he spilled inside you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, trapping you beneath him as he rode out his orgasm, hips still moving, making sure you felt every drop of him.

And then, finally, silence.

His breath was hot against your ear. His arms wrapped around you, holding you in place, ensuring you didn’t slip away.

You shivered, broken and spent, staring at the ceiling, mind blank with shock.

Caleb pressed a kiss to your temple, voice a satisfied murmur.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 ✦✧✦✧

The first week, he almost made it.

Almost.

The challenge had been stupid to begin with, a dumb joke from Kirishima and Kaminari that escalated into some pathetic show of "discipline." "Only the strongest can last all thirty days," they’d taunted, slapping down bets, laughing like this was just another dumbass dare. Bakugo didn't back down from dares. He never backed down from anything.

And in the beginning, it had been easy.

But then there was you.

You, moving through his fucking house like a damn temptation personified, not even trying—

—or maybe you were trying.

His wife, his property, his perfect little captive, his broken, docile doll who had learned (after so much screaming, after so much resistance) that fighting only made things worse. You had settled, grown quiet, learned how to exist within the lines he allowed, learned to be his good little girl.

And yet—

You were still so fucking infuriating.

Your soft, oversized sweaters slipping off your shoulder when you stretched. Your bare legs tucked under you on the couch, the delicate curve of your thighs exposed when you shifted. Your tiny little sighs, the mindless noises you made when you read, breathed, existed.

His patience, his self-control—both were a razor's edge.

And by the second week, he was losing his fucking mind.

✦✧✦✧

Week Two. He Wants to Kill You. He Wants to Fuck You.

The gym isn’t helping.

Neither is patrol. Neither are the long-ass shifts as a Pro Hero, the brutal workouts, the weight of his responsibilities. Nothing burns out the heat coiling low in his gut, the aching frustration that tightens his fists, his jaw, his whole fucking body every time he steps into his own damn house and sees you.

It isn’t fair.

It isn’t fucking fair that you get to sit there, oblivious, while he suffers.

He wonders if you really don’t know.

Or if you’re testing him.

It’s the only thing that makes sense—because lately, you’re worse.

Lately, you’re doing little things that make him want to rip his hair out, smash his fist through the nearest wall, grab you by the throat and—

You wear his shirts, the fabric drowning your smaller frame, barely covering anything. You hum in the kitchen, tapping your fingers against the counter, oblivious to how his eyes lock onto the curve of your hips. You chew your fucking lip, licking away the taste of your own chapstick, sitting in his lap when he pulls you there, squirming just slightly, the friction sending fire up his spine.

(You don’t fight him anymore. But you don’t obey the way he wants you to, either.)

He can barely sleep. Every night, he lies in bed, fists clenched, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw aches. You sleep beside him, curled up in a little ball, your breath soft and even.

You have no idea what you do to him.

You have no idea how badly he wants to ruin you.

✦✧✦✧

Week Three. He Snaps.

Kirishima laughs when Bakugo loses his shit over something small—some dumbass villain encounter that didn’t even warrant a reaction. “Dude, you’re fucking feral.”

Yeah. No fucking shit.

He’s been on edge for days, his patience worn so fucking thin that every little thing makes him want to snap someone’s neck.

By the time he gets home, he’s seeing red.

And then he sees you.

Sitting on the bed in nothing but one of his hoodies, legs curled beneath you, a book resting in your lap. Hair messy, soft and sleepy, your bare thighs just fucking there.

He stops breathing.

Something inside him fractures.

And then—

He’s moving before he can stop himself.

You barely have time to react before he’s on you, yanking you down, his grip brutal, possessive. A strangled gasp leaves your lips, your book knocked to the floor, your hands automatically rising to shove at him—

Too late.

His mouth is on yours, harsh and bruising, his tongue forcing past your lips, swallowing your protests. His hands are everywhere—pushing up the fabric of your hoodie, gripping your bare waist, fingers digging so deep into your flesh he’s sure you’ll bruise.

“Fuck the challenge,” he growls against your mouth, breath hot and ragged. “You think I’d let some dumbass bet stop me from taking what’s mine?”

You whimper, your nails scraping at his arms, your body twisting beneath him. He doesn’t let up.

Not this time.

He yanks you beneath him, knees spreading your thighs apart, shoving them open with his body weight. Your breath hitches—

And the sound makes him snap.

A growl rips from his throat as he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, trapping you. His other hand tears at your underwear, ripping the fabric aside, shoving his knee between your thighs to keep them spread.

“Don’t,” you choke, already struggling, your eyes wide, lips trembling. “K-Katsuki, don’t—”

“Shut up.” His voice is a snarl, his control shattered. “You’ve been driving me fucking insane, and you’re gonna pay for it.”

You gasp, a pathetic, terrified sound—

And then he’s inside you, forcing himself in all at once, stretching you too fast, too rough. You cry out, body jerking beneath him, legs kicking uselessly as he slams into you, bottoming out with a low, guttural groan.

“Fuck, you’re tight—”

You sob, your body writhing in pain, your nails digging into his arms, pushing, clawing—

He doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t want to stop.

Doesn’t care that you’re crying, that you’re gasping, that your body is desperately trying to escape. You’re his. His to touch, his to use, his to fuck whenever he wants—

And right now, he wants to break you all over again.

He pulls back and slams into you harder, setting a brutal pace, fucking into you so violently the bed creaks beneath you. Your breath comes in ragged, broken sobs, your hands flailing, grabbing at anything—

He grabs your throat, forcing your eyes on him, his grip tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You love this,” he sneers, panting, sweat dripping from his temple. “Doesn’t matter how much you fight me—your body always gives you away.”

Your face twists in horror, in shame—

And fuck, that look alone makes him cum.

He buries himself as deep as he can, grinding into you, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you, his groan mixing with your choked sob. He stays inside you, panting against your neck, arms wrapped around you in a bruising grip, his cock twitching as his cum drips out of you, leaking onto the sheets.

You’re shaking beneath him, gasping for breath, body limp.

He presses a lazy, possessive kiss to your temple, teeth scraping your skin, smug, satisfied.

“Fuck November,” he mutters, lips curling into a smirk. “I’d rather fuck you.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 ✦✧✦✧

It starts with a bet. A stupid, meaningless bet.

Osamu, smug and taunting, had thrown it at him like a damn challenge: "Bet ya can't last a whole month without touching 'er, Tsumu."

It was meant to be a joke. Something to rile him up, make him snap back like always. But Atsumu, stubborn bastard that he was, had scoffed, chin tilted high like he was above it all. "The hell I can't."

And that was how he found himself in this hellish predicament. Day seventeen of No Nut November. Seventeen days of restraint, of tightening his jaw every time you so much as breathed in his direction. Seventeen fucking days of agony.

The worst part? You had no idea.

You—his wife, his possession, the woman he’d broken down piece by piece until you barely had a will left to fight—had continued living like normal. Walking around the apartment in those little cotton shorts, stretching on the couch with that arch in your back, oblivious to the monster watching you from the shadows.

You don’t even need to try. You just exist, and he is unraveling.

His balls ache. His cock twitches at the mere thought of you. Every night, he sleeps facing away from you, fists clenched tight, jaw locked—because if he so much as brushed against you, he’d lose. Every morning, he wakes up hard, painfully swollen, and he forces himself into a cold shower, panting through gritted teeth. His body is desperate, furious, screaming for relief. But he refuses. He’s strong. He’s better than this. He won’t let Osamu win.

But tonight…

Tonight, you ruin him.

It’s innocent. Of course it is. You don’t have it in you to be cruel. Not like he does. Not like the predator watching you from the doorway, his fingers digging into the frame so hard his knuckles go white.

You’re on the bed, reading some book, knees tucked to your chest, lips pursed in concentration. The neckline of your oversized shirt sags just enough to tease him with a glimpse of collarbone. It’s nothing. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. But after seventeen days of this torture, it might as well be a full-fledged striptease.

His cock throbs. His breath shudders out of him. His patience—his fragile, already-fractured self-control—snaps like a thread.

You hear him before you see him. A sharp, uneven inhale. The weight of his footsteps, slow and deliberate. You look up just as he reaches you, just as his hands find your ankles and yank you flat against the mattress.

"A-Atsumu—?"

You don’t get to finish. His mouth crashes onto yours, brutal, all tongue and teeth, swallowing the startled squeak that escapes your throat. His grip is unforgiving—one hand cupping the back of your head, the other pinning your wrists above you. There’s no room to breathe. No space to think. Just him, overwhelming, drowning, consuming.

You struggle, because you always do. It’s cute. Pointless, but cute. He growls into your mouth, shoving a knee between your thighs, wedging them open despite your weak attempts to press them together. His grip is steel. His strength is absolute. You are nothing beneath him.

"Fuckin’ tease," he rasps against your lips, his voice ragged, frayed at the edges. "D’ya even know what you’ve been doin’ to me? Huh? Walkin’ ‘round like that—actin’ all innocent—when ya know damn well I ain’t touched ya in weeks."

You shake your head, wide-eyed, breath coming in soft little pants. "I-I don’t—"

He laughs. Sharp. Mean. "Yeah? Then lemme show ya."

The sound of fabric tearing fills the air. Your shirt—your only barrier—shreds in his fists, exposing soft skin to his greedy hands. He palms your breast roughly, fingers tweaking a nipple just to hear you yelp, just to feel you squirm. His cock aches at the way you tremble. His mouth waters at the sight of you sprawled out, helpless, right where you belong.

You try to twist away, try to push at his shoulders, but he’s not having it. Not tonight. Not after all this suffering. He flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, shoving your face into the mattress, pressing a knee into the small of your back. You whimper, voice muffled, but he doesn’t care. He tugs down your shorts—no panties, fuck, you’re not wearing any panties—and suddenly, he’s gone.

Gone from reason. Gone from sanity.

His cock slaps against your ass, heavy, leaking, desperate. He fists himself, groaning deep and guttural, dragging his length along your skin, smearing pre-cum over your untouched, untouched—

"You ain’t ready, are ya?" he breathes, almost delirious. "I should prep ya. Should take my time."

But he won’t. You both know he won’t.

He grips your hip with one hand, lines himself up with the other, and without warning, without hesitation, without an ounce of patience left in his depraved, feral body—he shoves in.

The scream you let out is raw. Broken. He barely gives you time to adjust before he’s slamming into you, pace ruthless, relentless. Your walls squeeze him, choking him, fighting him, and he groans through gritted teeth, fingers biting bruises into your hips. You’re sobbing. He can hear it, feel it in the way your body shakes beneath him, but fuck if that stops him.

"Tight—" he chokes, throwing his head back, sweat dripping from his brow. "So fuckin’ tight—" He should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve thrown the stupid challenge out the window and fucked you raw the second he started this miserable month.

You claw at the sheets, gasping, sobbing, body rocking forward with every brutal thrust. "Atsumu—please—"

Please what? Stop? Slow down? You know better than that.

"Fuck, princess—" He grits out a curse, yanking you up so your back slams against his chest. His arm snakes around your throat, forcing you to arch against him, while his free hand finds your clit, rolling it between his fingers. "Y’think I’d let ya go that easy?"

You jolt, breath catching, and he fucking smirks. "Ah, ya like that, don’tcha?"

Your head shakes wildly. Liar.

His thrusts grow erratic. His grip tightens. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy squelch of his cock pounding into your unwilling body—it’s obscene. It’s intoxicating. It’s all too much.

He’s close. So fucking close.

"Gonna fill ya up, baby," he groans into your ear, rutting deep, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you jolt. "Gonna pump ya so fuckin’ full, you’ll feel me for days."

You shake your head again, voice cracked and wrecked. "No, please—"

"Yeah? Too bad."

His hips snap forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, hard, hot, shuddering against you. He groans—loud, guttural, spent—but he doesn’t stop. Not yet. He fucks it into you, forcing you to take it, making sure every last drop stays buried deep inside.

You sag against him, boneless, wrecked, barely breathing. He exhales sharply, lips brushing the shell of your ear, grin smug, satisfied.

"Guess I lost the bet, huh?"

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 ✦✧✦✧

He thought he was untouchable.

A man like Shouei Barou—discipline incarnate, self-control molded into steel—wasn't supposed to fall victim to something as humiliating as lust. He had survived years without it, untouched, unfazed, knowing his own body belonged to him and no one else. He had trained himself to deny distractions, to ignore useless desires. He had gone seasons without indulgence, untouched by the idea of another's body—yours included.

Then you had to go and ruin everything.

No Nut November wasn’t supposed to be a challenge for him. He was the one who suggested it, who smirked at you with that cocky arrogance and told you he’d win easily. He had dismissed your playful taunts, shrugged off your teasing smirks, even when your eyes glimmered with something dangerous, something cruel.

But now, at the very last hour of the last fucking day, he is about to lose.

And it is all your fault.

Barou’s breathing is ragged, his broad chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint. His fists clench, his muscles locked so tight that he could snap his own bones if he dared to move. He stands there, hovering over you, his massive frame casting you in shadow, his sharp red eyes dark with something terrifying.

You did this. You set him up. A perfectly laid trap.

A simple, stupid trick—one that should not have worked.

But you underestimated how much he had been holding back. How much he had suffered, restraining himself.

Because you—his fucking wife—you had spent the entire month unknowingly torturing him. Every glance. Every accidental brush of your skin against his. Every time you stretched, yawned, or bent down to grab something off the floor. The tiny things. The things that should not have affected him. The things that burned themselves into his skull and ruined him.

And then, tonight, you had walked into the bedroom wearing something so fucking transparent he could see everything.

The challenge is over.

Because Shouei Barou, the self-made king, has just lost in the worst way possible.

He grips your waist so suddenly that your breath chokes in your throat. His fingers dig in, the sheer power of his grip forcing your body against his. His massive frame engulfs you entirely, heat radiating off him like a furnace. You don’t have time to react before he shoves you onto the bed, his body caging you in, his sheer weight pressing you down.

“You fucking cheater.” His voice is gravel, a deep growl that shakes against your bones.

His hands are everywhere—pushing up the flimsy fabric of your nightwear, spreading your legs open, forcing you to submit. The month of denial has turned him into something monstrous, something more terrifying than you’ve ever seen.

Your protests die in your throat the moment his mouth crashes against your skin. Sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave evidence. He drags his tongue over the mark, hot and possessive, and then moves lower, his mouth claiming every inch of you, as if punishing you for making him wait.

His hands tremble. His entire body shakes with the sheer force of holding back.

“I should make you beg,” he snarls against your skin, voice rough with restraint. “I should make you cry for this.”

But he’s the one who breaks first.

Because the moment his cock—aching, twitching, painfully engorged from weeks of torment—finally presses against you, all control shatters.

He doesn’t ease in. He doesn’t take his time. He slams into you with a force so brutal it knocks the breath from your lungs. The stretch is instant, blinding, an intrusion so sudden your body struggles to accommodate his sheer size. A sound—half-gasp, half-sob—escapes your throat, but Barou doesn’t stop.

He can’t.

A broken groan rips through him as he bottoms out, his massive cock buried deep inside you, his entire frame shuddering with the unbearable pleasure of finally being inside you.

“You… you did this.” His voice is wrecked, barely coherent.

His hands pin you down—one gripping your thigh, wrenching your legs apart wider, the other wrapped around your wrists, trapping you beneath him. His body trembles, his cock twitches inside you, as he grits his teeth so hard they might crack.

Then he moves.

Brutal, relentless thrusts that leave no room for air, no room for protest. Every slam of his hips knocks your body against the mattress, every drag of his thick length against your walls forces another choked whimper from your throat. His hands tighten, his grip bruising, possessive, unyielding.

He growls low in his throat, a sound so deep, so animalistic, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Fucking take it,” he grits out between ragged breaths, his voice strained with months of pent-up frustration, desire, and the pure fucking need to ruin you. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to see me lose?”

You can’t answer. He doesn’t give you the chance to.

His rhythm is brutal, every thrust shoving you deeper into the bed, every movement claiming you entirely. There is no escape, no reprieve. His cock pulses inside you, thick and unrelenting, stretching you in ways that feel impossible. The sheer force of his movements sends heat pooling deep in your core, your own body betraying you with the way it clenches around him.

Barou notices.

His red eyes darken, lips curling into something wicked.

“Oh, you like this?” His voice is dangerous, taunting. “You like getting fucked by a man who can’t stop?”

A hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, reminding you of the power he has over you. His pace doesn’t falter, doesn’t slow, doesn’t give you a second to breathe. The bed creaks beneath his brutal thrusts, the room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, of heavy, ragged breathing, of the wet, obscene noises of your body accepting him.

“You ruined me,” he groans, his grip tightening. “Made me wait. Made me suffer. And now you’re just gonna fucking take it.”

He’s losing himself.

His pace becomes erratic, thrusts growing sloppy, desperate. His breathing is uneven, his entire body tensing as he nears the inevitable. His balls, heavy and aching from a month of denial, slap against you with every movement, each impact sending another wave of pleasure coiling through his spine.

Then his body seizes.

A choked sound rips from his throat—a groan so deep, so raw, it barely sounds human. He buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching violently as he finally, finally releases.

It’s endless.

Weeks of pent-up frustration, of restraint, of holding back—now completely unleashed inside you. His body shudders, muscles locking, as he spills inside you, hot and overwhelming. He groans against your neck, his entire weight pressing down on you, trapping you in place as he rides out the unbearable pleasure, emptying himself completely.

His grip loosens. His breathing slows. But he doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he shifts, his lips brushing against your ear, voice still rough with exhaustion.

“Next year… you’re not getting a fucking chance.”

His cock twitches inside you, still hard.

Barou isn’t done yet.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Character TAG LIST of “HSR Sunday”: @yandere-romanticaa

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

[deathofacupid]

"you have pretty eyes," you murmur, looking up at sukuna. his hands are on the sides of you, your arms hung over his neck. his leaky tip is lined up, poking your swollen clit, just between your thighs.

you've seemed to catch him off guard, because he shifts above you, snorting. "pretty? i do not believe i have heard that one, yet, petal."

you giggle. "that's absurd. they are pretty." soft sex with sukuna is such a rare, fleeting thing. because, well, he didn't care for it. he preferred it rough, mean, and unforgiving.

and, most of the time, you were qualm-less — content with getting railed in thirty different positions, all sure to leave you deadly sore in the morning.

sometimes, though? you just want to be held. and, those times, you're lucky enough for him to just want to hold you.

you're such a small thing, lying there beneath him. it leaves him in awe, at times. so fragile, so delicate. his petal.

"good to know," he says, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes, though a ghost of a smile flickers across his face. sukuna bottoms out, gently, quietly grunting.

"fuck..." he mutters, "'s fuckin' tight f'me." his words grow slurred, and are accompanied by your moans. it takes him only a couple seconds, angling himself just right to hit that spot.

"oh- 'kuna, please-please-please-please, just like that," you coo, eyes falling shut. his warmth is homey, and you don't think you ever want to leave. sukuna, contrary to his normal appearance, is everything honey. he is sticky and sweet, and addicting all at the same time.

you cum in sync with him, soft mewls leaving your throat. he curses into the crook of your neck, letting himself inhale your scent. it's familiar. sukuna doesn't pull out, no, not yet. his cock softens inside you, and in this moment, you are one and the same with him.

there's nothing keeping you apart, and he swears this is the most intimate thing he's ever done. and, that? that is a blessing from you, one he is so grateful for.

"i love you," you pant. you find yourself, once more, gazing into his deep, crimson eyes. so, so pretty.

without a beat of hesitance, from where there used to be, "i love you, too."

for @jeonwiixard <3

[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

[stxxrlights]

#𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊!𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

drunk!sukuna who's friends call you to come pick him up because he is completely wasted. telling you that he won't stop whining your name and refuses to go with any of them. they apologize for interrupting your night but you don't mind.

drunk!sukuna who does not recognize you at first and swats your hand away everytime you try to touch him. "don't-don't touch me or i'll tell my girl-girlfriend. she's way scarier than me. and so much prettier than you".

drunk!sukuna who apologizes when he confirms that it's you over and over again with glossy eyes while his friends just shake their heads at his drunken antics. "why didn't you say it was you baby? now i feel so bad~"

drunk!sukuna who has to lean against you to walk straight and to the car as he starts blabbing about his day and other nonsense and now you truly believe that he is infact extremely wasted.

drunk!sukuna who pins you against the wall when you close the front door of your shared home trying to steal a kiss from you but you refuse though he keeps on trying. landing his kisses on your cheeks, forehead, nose but not where he wants to. "stop moving and let me love you!" "you have to brush your teeth first" "fine!"

drunk!sukuna who refuses to drink a glass of water that you hand him. he's furrowing his eyebrows, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at it disgustingly. "you have to drink some water, kuna" "no!" "pretty please!... for me" "...okay..."

drunk!sukuna who you help shower to prepare him for bed as he can't really do anything by himself now. but the entire time he's staring at you and relishing in the feeling on your hands roaming around his body, his cheeks growing pink as he falls more in love with you.

drunk!sukuna who starts talking about how lucky he is to have found someone like you. how it makes his heart skip a bit anytime you're worried about him and when you do cute gestures for him. he tells you that words alone can not describe how much he loves you.

drunk!sukuna who sets you on the counter as you dry his hair while his hands are firmly placed on your hips still watching you. he wants to be as close to you as he possibly can, always holding you.

drunk!sukuna who demands kisses all over his face before he goes to bed and makes you declare your love for him. "it's enough now kuna. you need to rest" "no... i need twenty more kisses and a dozen i love you's"

drunk!sukuna who finally falls asleep after his well deserved kisses and affirmations. you watch as his chest rises up and down and his lashes resting on his cheeks. he just looks so beautiful and you can't stop thinking about how soft drunk!sukuna is.

drunk!sukuna who wraps his arms around you when you get into bed with him and surprisingly he places a kiss on your forehead and in a husky voice says, "thank you for taking care of me princess. i love you so much, sweet dreams"

#comments and reblogs are appreciated