deesgarden

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🜼 ⋆ just nanami wrapping you in a headlock and fucking you like he earned it.

his hands are so big.

you feel it every time he grabs your hips: palms wide and flat, one anchoring your waist and the other pressing down between your shoulder blades, keeping you arched, ass up and back slapping against him with every filthy thrust. you’re already moaning for him. your face turned into the pillow, drool slipping past your lips, your body soft and shaky and open. you’ve been like this for a while now, splayed out, dripping, fucked dumb—because when nanami kento says “on your stomach,” you listen.

and right now? he’s buried so deep you swear he’s trying to ruin you from the inside out.

“keep that back arched,” he says, low and calm like he’s not absolutely wrecking you. “don’t you drop it, sweetheart. not until i say.”

your legs are shaking. you’re already too wet, too full, the fat head of his cock kissing that spot again and again while he rocks his hips into you, slow and mean. and he’s watching the whole thing—watching his cock disappear inside you, watching how sloppy and messy your pussy sounds every time he drags out and slams back in. he loves it. he eats that shit up. every noise, every twitch, every hiccup of breath like you’re already too far gone.

but you keep holding on—barely—because his voice is soft when he degrades you, and his pace is ruthless when he tells you you’re doing good. and it’s so much. so fucking much. you feel it building, climbing—right there, right there—your fingers fisting the sheets like they can hold you together and he knows. god, he knows.

“say it,” he grits, pace quickening now, pelvis slapping hard against the curve of your ass. “say what you need, baby. use your words.”

you try to hold it back. you try. but it’s crawling up your throat like instinct, thick and hot and helpless.

“d-daddy—”

that’s when he snaps.

he goes still for a second—deep inside you, cock twitching—and then he grabs you. his arm loops under your chin, hooks tight around your throat, and he drags your body back against his chest like you weigh nothing. you’re breathless, off-balance, your tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts as he bends you into a headlock, forearm squeezing gently against your neck, hand tangled in your hair like he’s holding you still just to ruin you better.

“that’s what you wanted?” he rasps, lips at your ear, teeth grazing. “you wanna act like a dumb little whore for daddy?”

you whimper—half a nod, half a moan—and it only makes him fuck you harder.

his pace is vicious now, slamming into you from behind, each thrust snapping your hips forward, your body jolting in his grip. he’s got you folded, held, claimed. one arm tight around your neck, the other fisted in your hair, your body trembling under the weight of his cock splitting you open over and over again.

and you’re soaked. squelching around him. every thrust punching little gasps out of you, your mouth open, eyes glazed, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room like music. you’re so close it hurts, pressure building deep in your gut, your pussy clenching down hard, and he feels it.

“fuuuck, that’s it. tight little cunt,” he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder, sweat sliding down his temple. “you gonna come for daddy now? huh?”

you sob when he says it. you can’t help it. it’s too much, his voice, his body, the way he won’t let you go, won’t give you a single inch. you can’t run from it, can’t do anything but take it while he fucks you stupid and keeps whispering filth into your ear like you’re his favorite toy.

“come on, baby,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder. “cream on this cock. show daddy how bad you needed it.”

and you do. violently. beautifully. clenching so hard it stalls his hips for a second before he fucks right through it, keeps going until he’s moaning too—hips jerking, hand flexing tighter around your throat as he spills inside you with a broken, breathless “fuck.”

he holds you like that after—panting, sweaty, his body shaking against yours, his grip loosening but never letting go. you’re limp in his arms, wrecked and twitching, pussy fluttering around his cock while he stays buried deep, still throbbing, still possessive.

“my good girl,” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, voice ruined. “say it again.”

and you do.

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stay cool! 🧊

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pussy drunk! simon pinning you down on the mattress, his big strong arms wrapped around your thighs as he absolutely devoured your cunt. “it takes a while for me to come,” you admitted shyly, turning away so he wouldn’t see the faint blush on your cheek. “don’ care luvie, could eat yer cunnie all day if i could.” simon didn’t care, his tongue lapping around your swollen folds as you dug your nails in his hair, tugging it ever so slightly. “told yer i luv to eat,” he groaned as your arousal dripped down his chin, getting completely drunk off your taste. “if i have to stay like this for an hour then i will, but yer gonna cum.” and when you did, so he did, blowing it in his pants without his dick getting wet.

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Yandere! CEO Sukuna

pairings - Yandere! CEO Sukuna x asst! fem reader

warnings - MDNI - MEAN Sukuna, dark content, gaslighting, he's psychotic asf, stalking, videoing without consent, degradation, A TON of sexual tension (unresolved for now lol) manipulation, jealousy, toxic ass behaviors, thigh riding, masturbation (m and f) power dynamics, trapping - basically yandere behavior

Gonna make this a full oneshot so drop a comment if you wanna get tagged

Yandere! CEO Sukuna who loves watching his pretty assistant bend over right in front of him, because he's kicked something over that you have to pick up. God, especially when you're on your knees, and scowl up at him like that. He can picture smearing your pretty red lipstick with the tip of his cock.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna grins like the psycho he is when you finally pick up his stack of papers, throwing them unceremoniously on his desk. He's watched you for so long, all he can think of is how badly he can't wait till you beg for him, till you realize he's the only one for you. The amounts of times he's jerked it watching you underneath your desk where he has his cameras set up is ridiculous, surely at some point you'd come ask for him, need him. But the words that spill from your lips next stop him in his tracks - 'I'm putting in my two weeks notice, Mr. Sukuna'

Yandere! CEO Sukuna stands up now, so tall over you in a suit that barely stretches enough to fit his broad chest, his shoulders. Maybe if you didn't have any self respect, maybe if you didn't have a boyfriend, you'd beg to be bent over his cherry wood desk, see that bulge in his dark black slacks for yourself. But you can never stoop that low, to the asshole that treats you like shit. 'You get paid this fucking good and you're gonna leave?' he demands, raising a slutty- yes, slutty - fucking eyebrow now, two slits in one of them where surely he must have had piercings before he went corporate. You just smile, tilting your head now. 'I'll be making less, but he's one hell of a boss I hear,' you go to turn and Sukuna grabs your wrist, squeezing it so hard you gasp.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna hovers so fucking tall and big over you, over everyone, hand gripping your wrist so tightly you cry out, a sound he's heard over and over in the confines of your room without your knowledge. 'Who the fuck are you going to work for?' he demands, you smile back at him, a mean little smile that makes him want to fuck your throat till you cry. 'Asked ya a question, brat, ya too stupid to fucking answer?' you scoff now. 'Brat!? Stupid!? This is why I'm leaving - oh and it's Mr. Gojo, he runs the Gojo corporation, pretty sure you've heard of him. Two weeks.' you scowl and stomp off as Sukuna curses, punching his wall, the plaster cracks and breaks, as he realizes he is fucking losing you before he had you.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna is stuck in the office late, as usual, the moonlight is filtering in as he zooms in on the camera he has in your bedroom. He knows your night routine since he came there one day, with the pretense of bringing you a check, only to ask to use your bathroom and plant it right on your dresser. The panties he stole that day have lost your scent now, a whole fucking tragedy, they're discarded in the bottom of his desk drawer. He unzips his slacks when he hears it, soft moans from outside your door, only to pause when he sees a tall, lanky man carrying you over to your bed. 'this little fucking slut!?'

Yandere! CEO Sukuna can't believe you'd want anyone else - fuck all he wants is you, and now not only are you quitting, you've got a man laid on your bed, and you're straddling him as he grabs your ass. Sukuna watches you rock against him, gripping his desk so hard the wood is scratched up from his fucking nails. He hears your sexy little moans that should only be for him, scowling as he looks at just who the man is. Once he recognizes him as his own employee, he fucking loses it, instantly pulling up the man's file as he flips you over, he's clearly got his hands between your thighs and you're moaning just a bit - he scoffs as he scowls at the name. If it were him you'd be fucking screaming, choking, crying - not whatever noise that was. In fact, once the man leaves after apparently cumming in his pants from touching you - you pull out your vibrator to finish the job.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna can't have someone near you, and he sure the fuck can't have you leaving him - which leads him to the next moves that morning. The boy who'd had his fingers inside you - when your cunt is so obviously Sukuna's - is terrified as Sukuna throws him right on a wall, lifting him by the collar and letting him dangle, chuckling like the psychotic mother fucker he is as he threatens him 'leave, and I'll give you a hell of a severance package, what do you think?' the boy nods, turning red with the lack of breath, Sukuna's ruby eyes light up with delight, it's just been too long since he's gotten to beat anyone up. Corporate life is boring, and the only bright spot is you. 'Good boy,' he pats his cheek and lets him fall to the ground. 'Don't ever talk to her again, fucking got me? Or you won't have a tongue in your mouth anymore'

Yandere! CEO Sukuna can't help but grin when you run into the office, tears streaking down your cheeks - fuck you look pretty like that. 'What did you do to him!? You're such a dick!' you shove at him now, when he grips you, turning you like it's nothing and pressing you against the desk. Your heart races, you've never been this close to him, with his big fucking hand wrapping your throat, his hard body pressing you against the cool wood. His breath tickles your ear as he chuckles and whispers - 'you're mad I sent your little boyfriend home? aw, poor little slut, ya gonna be okay?' you glare, trying to turn around and slap him, but he doesn't let you, instead gripping your throat. 'I can't wait to go work for Gojo, I'm not even giving you two fucking weeks' he chuckles again, turning your chin, your lips are a breath away. 'Sure you are'

Yandere! CEO Sukuna makes sure that you will need him, that you can never leave him, when he pays your landlord a hefty fucking sum to kick you out, and writes a letter of job declination in your exact handwriting to Satoru Gojo. He can't help but smirk when you walk into his office, much more resigned, and he finally gives you just a bit of feigned kindness. 'Yes, what is it?' he asks arrogantly, yet the tone is soft, when you shut the door, then break down in tears. 'C'mere, tch, stop that,' he tugs you against him, as you're sobbing, pretending your tears don't make him leak precum, when you look up at him with your pretty eyes. 'What's wrong, huh?' you take a shaky breath, shaking your head - Were you wrong about him?

Yandere! CEO Sukuna feels his heart beat in his chest when you murmur his name - 'Mr. Sukuna... I'm s-sorry that I... I really need this job now, and I have n-nowhere to go as of next week. C-can you let me stay?' he bites back his grin, instead burying it in your hair. 'Of course I can, you can stay with me till you get another place too' you gasp, looking up at him now. 'No, you can't do all that, I can stay with my mom...' he shakes his head. 'nonsense, she's out of town,' you pause, blinking. 'how'd you know that?' he just tugs you back to his chest again, you inhale his expensive cologne. 'I've been a little too harsh on you, yeah?' you nod, sobbing more, and soon Sukuna gets to have you all to himself.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna wants to fold, to beg for you, but he has to make sure you need him, and need him in every fucking way. When you move in 'temporarily' to his giant, spotless penthouse, he makes sure to walk around in nothing but a towel, or nothing but his boxers, watching the way your eyes drift down his tattoos, his hard abdomen, and lower. But he never, ever touches you, aside from torturous brushes of his fingertips, tugs at your hair with a grin, sadistic as ever. He'd brush against you as you cooked dinner - you said it's the least you could do - and every touch kept sending you higher. He's nicer in his home - still gruff, but he buys you anything you want, things you tell him not to, he lets you lay your head on his shoulder as the two of you sit on the balcony at night, sipping wine.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna at work is mean as usual, but even there, he's a little softer, and you wonder if you just didn't know him truly. You start to bend over a little more in front of him, start to walk around in next to nothing at home, wondering if he'll ever want more, but he doesn't, he just eyes you with bright red eyes, like they're touching you, but never crossing the line. You find yourself fantasizing more and more about a man you used to hate, when finally you can't stand it, the desire, the need, and you decide if he's not gonna fuck you, someone needs to. That's when Sukuna finds you about to go on a fucking date when he gets home from a meeting, looking all slutty in your little black dress - tits out, thighs out - your body is all his, his, his, how fucking dare you show it off!?

Yandere! CEO Sukuna scowls as you ask 'how do I look, Mr. Sukuna?' and he scoffs, fingers itching to rip the material off you. 'The fuck are you doing?' he demands, walking closer, until you're pressed against the counter, his thigh between yours, feeling your heat. You back up, gasping out, biting your lower lip now. 'I'm going on a date, also I think I'll have a place soon, there are condos being built across the street. I'll be out of your hair,' you murmur, even as you arch your hips again, and he grips your hips, scowling down at you, lifting his thigh up. 'Oh yeah? leaving so soon, huh? I was just getting used to you annoying me, brat,' he tugs you on his thigh, you're soaking his slacks, gasping as your eyes roll back. 'need something from me?' you shake your head, and he chuckles, tugging you down again. 'Nothing at all, huh?' you roll your hips again, cunt soaking him, clit pressing just right when he pulls back.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna eyes the dark spot you've made, thumbing the slick arousal that's darkened his pants. 'Hmm, made quite a mess, didn't you?' he murmurs, brushing his thumb, painted black nail sharp as he puts it to his mouth, licking it with a wicked fucking grin. You gasp at it, heart pounding, when he uses your cum to gloss his lips and leans forward. 'Need me to take you on your little date?' you shake your head, thighs pressing together. 'No? What if he's a psycho, a weirdo - some creep?' as if he's not all those things. But he's so obsessed with you, he'd never hurt you - not really, not unless it brought you pleasure. He watches you straighten your dress now, sighing. 'No, he's neither of those things. I'll be late so...' he scowls at that now, brows lowering over his eyes, when you rush out the door, leaving him to desperately search your room, so he can drink more of you, hating you for what you're doing to his fucking mind.

Yandere! CEO Sukuna has already put a tracker in your car, so he knows the fancy fucking restaurant you're at. You're giggling and smiling as he sees you from the car window when he pulls up an hour later to watch you. You're leaning forward at that dinner table, and kissing your date, the man has his hand entangled in your hair, as Sukuna studies you, more and more furious. He's imagining every way he'd beat your fucking ass till it's black and blue when he drives home, the way he'll fuck your throat till you can't swallow for days. He texts you, curiously, and you have the audacity to fucking ignore him, his jaw clenches, hand rushing through the pink locks of his hair, heart pounding in anger. Don't you fucking know you're his!?

Yandere! CEO Sukuna watches you unlock the door later that night, sitting alone in the darkness, sipping on a glass of whiskey while he waits - to show you who the fuck you belong to, since you clearly won't just be a good girl and beg for it. He chuckles when you catch sight of him and scream out, standing and walking over to you now, hands on either side of you, leaning low. 'Sukuna, what the fuck are you doing, sitting in the dark!? Like some creep?' he grips your chin so hard it hurts then, his other hand entangling in your hair, yanking out all the pins you had, they clatter to his hardwood floor now. He pulls so hard you gasp, blinking back tears. 'Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.' you bite back a retort, but part of you fucking wants it. You shake your head, earning his teeth glinting with a mean fucking grin in the dark. 'Then I'll put you there, fucking brat,' he shoves you down now, bare knees on the floor, as you look up at him, wondering where the fuck your survival instincts have gone.

because you want him to punish you - you want him to hurt you, gag you and choke you. But even then, you try to get up, only earning him shoving you down further, and your cunt just drips against previously soaked panties - you want yandere! ceo sukuna to ruin you.

ahhh so if ya'll want the full oneshot lmk hehe - I'm thinking of doing it for my one year on tumblr coming this week :')

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷

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I spy tan lines UwU

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im so dreamy in pearls ☁️

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melting

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🜼 ⋆ toji fucking your thighs cause he thinks you’re not ready for his big cock — vigrin!reader.

your thighs are slick from how long he’s been rubbing his cock between them.

he’s not even inside you.

toji’s huge body hovers over yours, sweat clinging to the dips of his torso as he slowly rocks forward, his cock heavy and flushed, caught tight in the heat of your thighs. he’s fucking into the soft seam between them, not your pussy, not yet. but still grunting like it’s the tightest thing he’s ever felt.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to keep you pinned open. “feel that? how hard you’ve got me?”

you nod, trembling, lips bitten raw from how long you’ve been whining. it’s hot, humiliating, how soaked your cunt is and how it is untouched, and desperate because he’s been teasing you like this for minutes now, maybe longer. long enough that you’re crying.

he looks down at the mess of you, eyes dragging slowly from the flushed swell of your tits to the twitch of your thighs to the glossy, needy cunt just inches from his cock. he licks his teeth.

“you want it, huh?” his voice drops, all rough and sweet like he’s teasing a scared little thing. “want this cock inside that pretty pussy?”

“yes,” you whisper. “please.”

his mouth curves. but he doesn’t move to fuck you.

instead, he presses in deeper between your thighs, grinding against your slick skin. the fat head of his cock kisses the edge of your folds, then slides up again too big, too slow until you’re whining, hips lifting to chase him. toji presses you down with a growl.

“no, sweetheart. not yet, she’s not ready.”

you blink up at him, flushed and confused. “she?”

he hums, eyes locked on your cunt like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“your pussy,” he says simply. “she’s too sweet. look at her.” his fingers trace the puffy lips, the glistening slit just barely open from how turned on you are. “fuckin’ drooling for me, and i haven’t even stretched her yet.”

you feel heat crawl down your neck, your face. “toji—”

“you think she can take this?” he cuts in, grinding his cock between your thighs again. “baby, i’d ruin her.”

and god help you, the way he says it like it’s reverent. like it’s true. like he wants it more than anything, but he’s holding back because he knows you’re not ready. not yet.

“you think i wanna hurt her?” he murmurs, lowering his face until he’s speaking right above your cunt. “nah. she’s too fuckin’ perfect.”

he kisses the inside of your thigh, then glances up at you with a half-lidded smirk. “gonna get her ready, though. soft and slow. ‘til she’s beggin’ for it. beggin’ for me.”

and then he speaks to your pussy. like it’s a girl he’s seducing.

“yeah, you hear that? you’re not ready yet, sweetheart,” he rasps, sliding two thick fingers through your slick folds without pushing in. “but i’m gonna fix that. stretch you open real good. make sure you can take all of me. every inch.”

you whimper.

his voice lowers, throatier now. “bet you’ll be tight. bet you’ll suck me in and not let go. i’ll have to fight to pull out.”

his cock twitches between your thighs, and he ruts forward once, grunting.

you can’t even think, you can’t breathe and yet he leans in again, brushing a thumb just above your clit.

“not yet,” he repeats, breath hot. “but soon, baby. real soon.”

[deesgarden]

me when satoru calls reader wifey

me when toji calls reader ma

me when suguru calls reader pretty girl

me when toji calls reader doll

me when sukuna calls reader woman

[deesgarden]

⋆˚ ✿ ˖ ࣪ thinking about satoru teaching you how to jerk him off with his larger hand guiding yours as he gently pumps your fist over his thick, aching cock with his pre cum. he’s groaning out under his breath, praising you with a flushed face and furrowed brows, “just like that, fuck..”

“i’m doing it right?”, you whisper, looking over at him with big eyes as you bite the bottom of your lip, still fucking his cock with your fist and satoru’s moaning out at the cute expression on your face. he nods with a deep hum and a cheeky smirk on his lips, “yeah baby, you’re making me feel reaaal good.”

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Reblog if you support squishy bellies, have a squishy belly, or have the desire to summon satan

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you’re lying side by side with satoru in the dim light of your room, the faint hum of the city outside your window the only sound between you. your fingers trace lazy patterns on his bare arm, your voice soft, half teasing, half curious.

“hey, have you ever heard that beauty marks are the spots where your lover kissed you in a past life?” you ask, looking over at him.

he hums, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughtful. “sounds like something someone made up to romanticize scars or something.”

you laugh quietly, but then your hand drifts down to your own skin, pointing out the scattered little moles across your shoulders and arms. “look at these. if that’s true… then i must’ve been very loved before.”

satoru turns his head slowly to look at you, and you catch the faintest shadow in his eyes — something somber, distant. his skin is smooth, flawless. no marks, no traces of old kisses.

“what about you?” you whisper. “do you have any?”

he shakes his head almost imperceptibly, voice low. “no. doesn’t seem like it.”

your heart tightens just a little at the thought. so many past lives, and he never got to be kissed like that — never got to be loved like that, maybe.

without thinking, you reach over and press a kiss to his cheek, soft and warm. “guess i’ll have to change that,” you murmur.

he blinks, surprised, and before he can say anything, you start pressing gentle kisses all over his face — his jaw, his temple, his neck — marking him now, in this life.

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice quiet but smiling.

“i’m marking you for your next life,” you say, smiling back. “making sure you’re never without love again.”

he melts into your touch, eyes closing, lips parting slightly like he can’t quite believe it. and in the quiet dark, with your kisses still warm on his skin, he lets himself believe that maybe this life will be different.

“thank you,” he breathes, voice soft, his hand finding yours beneath the covers.

“always,” you say, and kiss him one last time before sleep pulls you both under.

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⋆ .  GOJO SMUT + N$FW AUDIO

ᅠᅠ ⎯⎯ ⠀ minors do not interact!

Pervert!Gojo who patiently waits every single day for the moment you climb into bed to masturbate.

Turning off your bedroom light does nothing. He can see everything through the thin curtain, the soft glow of your nightstand lamp is more than enough to cast your naked silhouette across the fabric.

The way your legs are spread wide, how one hand torments your nipples with sharp pinches while the other gets lost in the heat of your pussy.

You think you're alone. But he's right there, in the building in front, cock in hand, spitting on his swollen, flushed tip, stroking up and down the tight tunnel formed by his grip.

— Look at this... spreading yourself open like that... What would you think if you knew your neighbor was jerking off to you..? But you really do look like a filthy little exhibitionist.

Gojo moans lowly. His strokes are loud, messy — saliva drips from his mouth again, falling straight onto his red, vein-covered dick.

— Yeah, that’s it... push it deeper... just like that, come for me...

And Gojo keeps doing this night after night, only to greet you the next day like a true gentleman, smiling sweetly, like nothing ever happened.

ᅠ ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ© mahgyu | don't copy or translate.

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nanami never thought you’d cry over a sandwich.

you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, bundled in your favorite oversized hoodie, sniffling into a tissue. your bottom lip is trembling. your eyes are glossy. there’s a pathetic little frown on your face as you stare at the now-empty plate on your lap.

“it was just… so good,” you say, voice wobbly. “the bread was so soft. and the mayo ratio was perfect. and the tomato wasn’t soggy at all, kento.”

nanami blinks at you. silent. slow. then blinks again.

“…you’re crying,” he says carefully. “over the sandwich I made.”

you nod. another sniff. you wipe under your eyes. “yes.”

nanami doesn’t know what to do with that. he honestly thought you had gotten a phone call with bad news, or stubbed your toe, or watched a sad video on your phone again (which was already a very regular occurrence). but no. you’re crying over lunch.

and not even a great sandwich. not one with slow-roasted beef or caramelized onions or aioli with a name too fancy to pronounce. just a tomato and cheese sandwich on multigrain.

“…was it the type of cheese?” he tries.

you throw yourself dramatically across the cushions and whimper, “you made it for me, kenny. with love. i could taste it.”

he exhales through his nose and rubs his forehead, fighting a smile.

the first time he saw you cry like this, he was worried something was very wrong. turns out you just rewatched a coming-of-age anime. then it was a video of a baby goat in pajamas. then a pigeon with one leg that found a mate. and then one time you cried because he looked really handsome in a blue button-up.

it’s always something with you.

and every time, he thinks he’s prepared. every time, he’s wrong.

“you’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, kneeling beside the couch. he tugs the tissue box closer and hands you a fresh one. “and overly sensitive.”

“emotional,” you correct, holding it to your nose. “i just feel a lot, okay?”

“yes,” he says dryly. “i’ve noticed.”

you reach for him—grabbing his arm, pulling him until he sighs and lets you fold against his chest. your hands cling to his shirt, your face buried against his collarbone. you sniff again. he wonders if he should invest in better-quality tissues.

“…but like,” you mumble into his shoulder, “you don’t think it’s a bad thing, right?”

he looks down at you. you’re still pouty and teary and a little snotty. but you’re warm. affectionate. soft in all the ways he’s not. and when he cups the back of your head, you lean into it like it’s instinct.

“no,” he says. “i don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

you lift your head, sniffling again. your eyes are a little red, lashes wet. “so you like that i’m emotional?”

he hesitates. your eyes narrow. he clears his throat.

“…i’ve gotten used to it.”

you scowl.

“fine. yes. i like it.”

“you love it,” you say smugly.

“i tolerate it.”

you’re already smiling through the tears, rubbing at your face with your sleeves like a toddler. he sighs again and gently pulls your hoodie sleeves away to clean you up properly, holding another tissue to your nose like you’re incapable of doing it yourself.

“blow,” he murmurs.

you do. very pathetically. he grimaces.

“god, you’re a mess.”

“you’re so good to me, heh,” you say sweetly.

he wipes your face clean with ridiculous tenderness and finally sits beside you, letting you drape yourself over him like always. one of your arms around his waist, the other holding the tissue box close to your chest. your cheek pressed to his chest now, soft hums escaping you as he rubs circles into your back.

“thank you for the sandwich,” you say, almost whispering. “it was the best sandwich i’ve ever had.”

he kisses the top of your head. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

you go quiet for a moment.

then—“wait—what if i never taste a sandwich that good again? what if—what if the next one is a disappointment and it ruins the memory of this one?”

“…are you crying again?”

“only a little!!”

nanami closes his eyes and counts to ten.

but his hand never stops rubbing your back. and when you inevitably get the hiccup-cry combo ten minutes later, he brings you a glass of water without being asked.

because you are emotional.

but you’re also kind. and open. and loving. and somehow, impossibly, you’re his.

and if loving you means tissues and tears and hand-holding through minor food-related meltdowns… then he’ll take all of it.

even the sobbing over sandwiches.

bonus:

gojo finds out one day and laughs until he cries.

“you sobbed over a sandwich?”

“shut up,” you mumble.

nanami only glares at him once and gojo stops laughing immediately.

you beam. “see? he gets it.”

nanami sips his coffee in silence.

he doesn’t get it. but he gets you. and that’s more than enough.

[deesgarden]

extra nice — ft. ryomen sukuna

female reader ; modern/no curse au ; takes place post-sex with nudity ; banter ; established relationships ; very unserious stuff

You like Sukuna after sex—he’s nicer to you than usual.

(He’s never mean, of course. Not to you, at least—he’s always nice to you. But it’s typically in a weird, roundabout way, so you appreciate how some post-coital cuddling somehow makes him nicer. Nicer with his words, nicer with his touches, and nicer with that attitude he always seems to have attached to his exterior like some second skin that holds him hostage.

He’s nicer after sex. You think maybe getting laid just makes him a little less uptight.)

“I’m thirsty,” you pout.

He snorts, fingers tracing the small of your back as you lay curled on his sweaty chest. “Then drink water, idiot.”

“My legs feel like jello. Can you grab me some,” you blink innocently.

He rolls his eyes. Pre-sex Sukuna would let out a grumpy, I’m not your damn servant, woman! before he’d inevitably get up. Post-sex Sukuna plants a small kiss to your forehead before he rises and grabs his boxers from the floor.

“Iced or not iced, your majesty?” He raises a brow. You pretend to think over your options—he knows the answer before he even asks. He only asks because you like feeling as though you have options.

“Let’s go with iced,” you hum.

“Whatever the lady wishes,” he winks. There’s a smile on his lips and for once, it’s not something he subtly hides or tries to fight back so you don’t notice and point it out. He lets it happen. It stretches across his lips and lets that little dimple on his left cheek appear that makes you realize that Sukuna has moments where he’s less handsome and a little more cute. (You’d never tell him that, but you like to sit with the realization to yourself.)

You think that Sukuna is nicer after sex. Not because he gets his way, but because intimacy puts him in a good mood—being close to you makes him finally let his walls down. You think this version of him is a welcomed change of pace.

When he returns, he hands you a cold, tall glass of iced water with a bendy straw. You brighten at the sight of it.

“Did you know they have straws for anti-wrinkling?” you murmur.

“What are you on about?” he slumps back into bed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you sit up and take a sip of your water.

“It’s true,” you nod, “they have a straw that’s shaped weird so it doesn’t make you pucker your lips. It’s supposed to help with preventing wrinkles.”

“That’s stupid,” he mumbles.

“It is,” you nod, “they look silly. But maybe I’ll have to buy one so you don’t get tired of me quicker when I wrinkle.”

He makes a face. Almost offended but still a little amused. He scoffs as you set your glass down on your night stand and before you can even turn to him, he’s already tugged you down to lay back onto his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around you. (Post-sex Sukuna is also as as openly clingy as he is nice. You happen to also like this perk, as well.)

“You don’t need a stupid straw for wrinkles. That’s dumb as fuck.”

“But won’t my wrinkles make you bored of me?” you tease.

“No,” he says plainly. “Growing old with you can’t be so bad. I’ll probably age faster, anyway—you’ll give me gray hairs faster than you get wrinkles.”

“Not true,” you gasp, “you make me frown way more than I stress you out. I’ll age faster.”

“That’s rich,” he grins, “you wouldn’t last one day with yourself. It’s a miracle I haven’t gone insane.”

“You don’t need me for that,” you grumble.

He chuckles. It’s low and soft and a little less gruff and a little more boyish than he tends to let out, but post-sex Sukuna is a little easier to make laugh. He’s in a good mood when it’s you and him and crumpled sheets and a quiet room. He likes when you find his chest and he finds your waist and you both find each other. He likes when you kiss his jaw and he kisses your forehead and the little marks scattered on your skin from his love bites start to appear when time does its thing and the bruises make themselves known.

Sukuna is nicer after sex. He likes when your bodies do the talking and he doesn’t have to use his words. You know he loves you, and he seems to be in a better mood when he knows you’re reminded of the fact.

“You’d still love me if I was wrinkly, right?” you poke his chest with a teasing grin, “you wouldn’t leave me once I’m well past my prime?”

“If I leave you, you’d be an endangerment to society. I can’t let you run loose in the city.”

“Can’t you ever say something without throwing in an insult?” You huff.

He laughs. There’s a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. Your pout curls into a small grin against your will.

“Yes,” he snorts as he rolls his eyes, “I’d still love you with some goddamn wrinkles. Happy?”

“Very. I’d love you with gray hair,” you pat his chest, “don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worrying.”

“You should,” you nod with faux-seriousness, “because gray hairs would not be an issue, but baldness might. You better hope you don’t bald with age because I’m not into bald men.”

“I’m starting to think you’re more shallow than you let on,” he pokes your ribs.

You giggle. That sound coaxes another peck to your lips from him because he can’t quite help himself when he hears it, and when he grins at you as he pulls away, eyes a little softer than usual, you take your chance to cup his cheek and pull him into a proper kiss.

“I’ll never invest in an anti wrinkle straw if you never invest in hair dye,” you offer.

“Deal,” he scoffs in amusement, “what a relief. I was worried for a moment, there.”

“Since I’m so nice and don’t hold you to unreasonable standards that make aging seem like a bad thing,” you drawl, tracing his chest with a delicate, mischievous finger, “you should treat me to something to eat, too. I’m hungry.”

“Yeah? Shocker,” he grunts, grabbing his phone as he starts to order you food. He asks what you want—he knows the answer before you even reply, but he asks anyway because you like to feel as though you have options.

“You’re so nice,” you beam when he pays, pecking his cheek swiftly. “Here’s a kiss for your troubles.”

He rolls his eyes. There’s a stupid grin on his face, and he taps his cheek as he murmurs, “Nope. Not gonna cut it. Taxes are higher than that around here.”

Sukuna is nice after sex. You happen to still like him before and after, though.

if u follow my blog and u know the context: im still mind blown about this anti wrinkle straw LOL