midnightspasms

[midnightspasms]

Pairing: Professor!Geto x reader

Synopsis: Geto likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him. So when you apply to become his teaching assistant, he can't let the opportunity go.

Content warnings: Swearing, male masturbation, lewd/perverse behaviour, age gap, teacher x student relationship, spit sharing if you squint, Geto is a creep and a pervert!

Suguru wouldn't exactly consider himself a moral person. Sure, he didn't steal or kill, but that was the bare minimum. He wouldn't ever fail a student purely because he didn't like their face, but maybe he'd put much of the topics they struggled in in the test. So sure he wasn't exactly Jack the Ripper, but he wasn't that much of a good person.

The first day you walked into his class, he could tell that there was something in his chest for you. It wasn't serious, wasn't plentiful. Truly, if you dropped the class, he'd probably end up forgetting you entirely.

But you didn't, and the more he saw you, well...

He likes the kind of girl you are; the pretty, wealthy heiress with gold on her wrists and diamonds on her ears. You're the girl with a meticulously crafted reputation. The model student with big brains and a nice ass but doesn't show off the latter. The one that's gonna graduate Summa Cum Laude and pretend like that's what landed her summer internship and not daddy's connections.

Oh, he likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him.

When you apply to be his TA, he's pleased. He picks you without hesitation, throwing the rest of the applications in the bin.

When you step into his office with your not-too-tight top and not-too-short skirt that does nothing to hide that ass, he grins at you lazily, pleasantly, as you sit before his desk and he begins giving you the rundown of your work as his TA.

"You can begin with grading those papers," he says afterwards, voice smooth like velvet, deep like a 15-foot well as he gestures to the pile of test scripts on his desk.

You look over to the pile of test scripts at the edge of his desk. "Sure," you hum as you stand and pick up the stack.

You look up at him, Professor Geto, "Is there a marking guide I could use?" You ask him slowly as you stand before his desk.

Out of all your professors, Geto was probably the one that intimidated you the most. And not in a scary way, it was the way he was; the languid yet confident way he carried himself that made him seem untouchable, made him seem so far away from the other academic staff.

You became his TA because of his connections in the world of academia. Otherwise, he unsettled you.

Geto cocks his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest, as he regards you with a languorous blink. He's amused, though for what reason, you don't know.

He lets out a small huff, a sort of exhale through his nose as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a slender booklet. It's a copy of the marking guide; crisp and new. He hands it to you, eyes never once leaving your face.

"You're a smart girl," he says lowly, voice honeyed and smooth.

You take it from him with your free hand, "Thank you."

You turn around and wake over to the smaller desk next to his, putting the pile of scripts down on the wood. "Do I have a time constraint, sir?"

Geto sits back in his own chair, the leather making a quiet creaking noise as he folds one leg over the other, ankle over knee. He leans his elbow against the chair handle, his jaw propped on his knuckles.

"No, not exactly," he replies with a shrug. "Do it in your own pace."

You hum as you take a seat, your lips pursed. "Alright." You say as you pick up the first script.

You sit with your ankles crossed, the marking guide to your right as you begin grading the scripts. It's the scripts of freshman students, and it's obvious in the way the answers are structured.

You furrow my brows as you lean closer, trying to grade it the way your professor does, strict but not harsh, and with comments on how to improve.

All the while, Geto watches you. There's something almost voyeuristic in the way he does so - as if he were a photographer taking a candid picture of a woman without her knowledge. His eyes slowly drift over your form, the way the sunlight shines on your hair, the way you push a stray strand away from your face, the way your skirt tightens over your thighs...

It's strange. He doesn't even really like you, but there's something about you that pulls him towards you like a moth to a flame.

And you can't deny that the atmosphere is calming. The silence in the air and the air conditioning has your focused, and you finish the scripts in a little over an hour, silent as you put the last paper on top of the pile. "I'm done, sir." You call out to him as you finish, turning to look at him.

When you turn to look at him, he lifts an eyebrow, and his mouth slowly quirks up. "All thirty test scripts in an hour?" he says disbelievingly, but the impressed tone in his voice betrays his words. "I knew you were smart, but God damn."

You purse your lips as he speaks. "Would you like to go over them?" You ask slowly, eyeing the scripts. Now that he's expressed such surprise in the time you'd used, you can't help but doubt your work.

He lets out a low chuckle as he uncrosses his legs and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders back as the muscles in his back flex. He's a tall man with a wide chest, a lean swimmer's physique, all lean muscle and languid grace.

He walks over to your desk, and looks down at the pile of testscripts before he picks one of them up, thumbing through it.

You sit forward on your chair, a leg crossed over the other as you eye him tensely. Your elbows on the desk, fingers holding your pen to your mouth as you slowly, absently chew on the cap at the end of it.

Geto's gaze is how it always is, meticulous and calculated, as he scans through. The way he flips through papers, the way he stands, the subtle yet immense precision and grace in his posture as he examines your work only makes you more on edge.

While you sit there, tense and with a pen in your mouth, Geto stands tall and relaxed beside you. He reads through some of the answers for a minute, before he hums and nods to himself.

Then, slowly, he sets the paper down and looks down at you, and his gaze drifts down to your mouth, where your pen is in between your teeth.

He reaches out, and without saying a word, he gently pulls the pen from your mouth with his fingers.

Your lips partly just slightly as he pulls the pen from them, and you say nothing about it.

Geto holds the pen in his hand, idly spins it through his fingers with a practiced dexterity. His gaze drifts to your mouth, now open slightly, before it slowly lifts to your eyes.

Then, he lets out a huffed laugh, and looks away.

"Your grading is good," he says slowly, a hint of amused surprise in his voice as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You picked all the correct answers, and you gave just enough critique. Good girl."

The praise feels inappropriate, but then again, everything about Geto does.

"Thank you, sir." You murmur as your gaze drifts down to the pen in his hand. Embarrassingly, you can see the shine of your saliva on it, and a weird feeling spurs in your belly at the thought of your professor holding that pen. "I tried to emulate your grading."

As you mention emulating his grading, he hums, a languid sound in the back of his throat as he glances back at you. He doesn't smile, not really, but the amused look in his eyes only deepens.

"You did a good job of it," he says lowly. "You've a knack for this."

You can't help but smile. It's a slow, little one, but there's a tiny hint of pride in your eyes. "Thank you. Honestly... I didn't think I'd do this cause of scheduling difficulties." You murmur. You already have a lot on your plate. Truly, you only applied to be his TA so you could get recommended for Master's programs.

His eyes remain on you, taking in the small, slow smile that curves your lips. He's never really seen you smile in class, and the way your small mouth curves up on the edges makes you look so different.

Your phone buzzes then. You look down at it and Geto looks down at you.

"I have a meeting now, sir." You say as you stand, relieved to finally be done after grading those scripts.

"Sure," he says, voice deceptively light as he lets the word roll off his tongue. "Have fun, darling."

You offer a noncommittal hum as you grab your bag, hanging it over your shoulder as you turn to leave.

"Good night, sir." You tell him slowly as you bow once before making your way out of the room.

Geto's eyes remain on you as you walk out the door, watching the way your hips sway.

Once the door closes after you, he stands in place for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then, he sits back down in his chair with a huff, picking up your pen again, tracing his thumb over the cap.

Even as he sits alone in his classroom, Geto thinks about you.

That small, barely-there pout you had on your face as you left, the way you walked away from him with your hips and ass swaying, the way you sat before him and focused on your grading for an hour.

He brings the pen to his mouth, and before he can even fully register what he's doing, he sticks the tip of the pen into his mouth, tasting the drying remnants of your saliva on the cap.

He's not quite sure what he's doing, but once he tastes the residue of you on the tip of the pen, a single thought runs through his head.

What would you taste like?

He pulls the pen out of his mouth with a quiet pop as his thoughts wander, a sly, serpentine smile on his lips.

He looks down at the pen, tracing the writing on the body idly with his eyes, before he lets out a soft hum.

Oh, he's going to have fun with this...

He slowly pushes back from his desk, the chair letting out a creaking noise. He stands up from his chair and walks over to the door, quietly opening it, peeking his head out and looking at the quiet, empty hallway.

He can't see anyone. It's completely deserted, not a single person in sight.

Geto steps back into his office with a satisfied hum and locks the door with a click. The silence in the room is deafening. No one's there to interrupt him. He walks back to his desm with no apprehension.

Geto leans back against his chair, palms planted on the wood of his desk as he stares down at the pen he still holds in one hand. He holds it up in front of his face, and he slowly runs his tongue over the plastic.

Your saliva tastes slightly sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Intoxicating. Just like you...

Geto lets out a quiet exhale as he imagines the taste of you in his mouth. He's never tasted you - of course he hasn't - but the thought of that saliva being on his tongue and not on some inanimate pen is enough to make him shiver.

He looks down at the pen again, at the saliva shine, the way it gleams in the light...

He pops the cap into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue. A quiet grunt escapes his chest as he tastes you on the plastic, and he slowly brings a hand down to his trousers...

He knows he really shouldn't be doing this, not in his office, not after hours, not as your professor. But something about you turns him on, badly. Maybe it's the way you bite your lower lip when you're focused, maybe it's the cute way you chew on the pen caps, maybe it's the way you look him in the eyes with that tiny, little pout...

The thought of you looking up at him, down on your knees, mouth open in front of him...

He lets out a hiss, leaning back against the edge of the desk as he palms himself through his pants. He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan as he pictures it, one hand cupping his bulge through his trousers and the other keeping him steady on the desk as his mind conjures up images he's never had before.

You're not just a pretty girl, no, you're a smart, pretty girl. The kind that gets straight As and knows how to use your words.

You could probably talk him into almost anything, if you tried. That thought makes his knees almost buckle.He knows that you're too good, too pure to be as dirty as him, too innocent to be as perverted as he is right now, but still, he can't get the images out of his head.

Imagining you in front of him, on your knees, wearing that pretty green skirt of yours, looking up at him with that little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

"Darling." he murmurs your name, voice husky and rough as he unbuckles his belt one-handedly and spits out the cap of then pen unto his free palm before dropping it on his desk. The metal of the buckle clinking against itself. He unzips his trousers quickly, hands almost shaking in his eagerness.

He knows this is wrong, that it's wrong to think about you like this, but God, he can't stop. He lets out a quiet moan as his hand wraps around his already hard, the head already slightly sticky with pre-cum. He strokes himself once, twice.

He's used to imagining nameless, faceless girls, the kind they use in porn, the kind that don't make the right noises, but instead of that, instead of them... he's imagining you now.

You're not even here right now, but he can almost hear you. The way your voice gets all soft when you're focused, the cute little noises you make when you're concentrating on your work.

He can practically see it now. You, on your knees, looking up at him between his legs, watching him with that cute little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Darling," he says breathlessly, eyes still closed, "Open your mouth for me."

He tightens his grip around his cock, stroking just a tad faster as the scene changes, imagining you in nothing, looking up at him with your eyes wide and eager on your knees.

And, because he knows you're good, his brain even supplies him with the image of you begging him to do it. "Fuck-" He chokes out a groan, squeezing at the base of his cock.

It's all slimy and moist at this point, his purple head still bubbling out pre as he masturbates to the thought of you, hips bucking into his hand like a schoolboy virgin.

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Shit baby," he says breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut, free hand tightly gripping the arm of the chair till his knuckles are white. He's going to cum soon and he knows, the room filled with the nasty schlack schlack of his hand furiously stroking his dick. "Open your mouth for me, baby."

God, he can't get enough of the thought. You, with that cute little pout, opening your mouth, wanting to do as he says, wanting to be good and swallow all the cum he's goibg to release.

"Oh Godddd," his head falls back, neck against the headrest as his hips buck up into his palm and his body goes tight like a bowstring.

His dick spurts it out when Getou finally cums, ropes of sticky, white arousal landing on his stomach and his slacks.

He's breathing heavily when he finally comes down, limp dick still in his grip as his eyes catch the pen cap on his desk. Your pen cap.

"Fuck- I have to fuck her."

[midnightspasms]

Sukuna's walking a thin line when it comes to his relationship with you. There's the part of him that considers you his best friend, the one person he's comfortable enough to tell everything to.

Then there's the part of him that's undeniably attracted to you. And it's not just your looks.

Sukuna loves the idea of you; the pretty rich girl who shouldn't be hanging out with him, the one whose father scowls at him every minute, whose friends can't help but stare at him in fear and disdain.

You're everything he's been told he can never be. You are the perfection his chaos can never become, and he can't help but love it, can't help but chase after it again and again.

It blurs the line that keeps you two as friends.

It's what has his arm around you during lunch, has him breaking his wallet to buy you your stupid lattes and your stupid shoes and jewellery. It's what has him keeping you on his lap at parties, gatherings.

It's what has his palms sneaking under your skirt, fingers tracing the lace outline of your panties as you sit on his lap in the stupid little gathering he'd pulled you to.

"You horny?" Sukuna whispers into your ear as his middle finger reaches the damp crotch of your panties, pushing the fabric between your lips. "Cause you're so fucking wet, baby."

You suck in a breath. Your lower half is obscured by the table before before you, but you're certain if someone were to come round, if someone were to just crane their neck a bit to peak, they'd see his hands between your legs.

"Sukuna..." Your words come out breathy, and the stimulation has your eyes fluttering. You hang your head low as you try to hide the pleasure etching itself unto your face.

He pulls your underwear to the side, and practically sighs when the pad of his finger touches your bare pussy. He groans as he gets a feel for it, rubbing along your slit before going up to gently tug at your clit.

You bite your lip, holding your moans as his middle and ring finger begin to push into you inch by delicious inch, the thumb of his other hand still working your clit so well.

You're pulsing around the two fingers stuffing your pussy, liquid pooling out as he pumps them in and out of you.

He presses forward, bringing his mouth to your ear. "Let's leave, yeah?" He ghosts your entrance. "I wanna taste your pussy, baby."

You're too dazed to think when he fucks you in his car. Sukuna has you bouncing on his dick in the driver's seat, your legs around his waist as he guides you up and down his rock hard cock.

He has a hand on your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're so fucking sexy, baby," he whispers as he watches you, eyes going from your face to your tits bouncing so erotically for him.

The empty parking lot is quiet save for the unmistakable sounds of sex; squelching pussy on dick, skin slapping and low, breathy moans from you and Sukuna.

"Ride me. Fuck- fuck this cock like you own it." He groans, raising his hip to meet you every time you come down on his cock. He's so out of it, staring at you with half lidded eyes as you whine and moan from how good his dick is in you.

His thighs are glistening with pre-cum and the spit from when he'd eaten your pussy, and the way your greedy hole's squeezing him in and pulsing around his shaft has his head falling back as he fucks into you.

"Kuna," You moan, eyes tightly shut as you're fucked into his dashboard, your back rubbing uncomfortably against it. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with how good his dick feels moving in and out of your tight pussy.

One of Sukuna's hands come up to grab at your left tit, the one on your neck coming down to furiously rub at your clit.

"Cum for me, baby," he pleads as his thighs begin to quake and his orgasm nears, "Come on. Give it to me, girl. Cum on this cock- it's begging, baby."

The problem with stepping across the line that defines your relationship is that you two weren't ready for it. You understood each other, but that doesn't mean you fit all that well.

He wants you, badly.

You want him too.

But that's not always enough. He's mean and he's rude, and he doesn't know how to be the kind of man you want. And you're not ready to compromise for his shortcomings.

You last two weeks before you fight.

"We were just texting!" Sukuna screams out, following after you as you stalk away from his bedroom, quickly crossing the hallway to his living room.

"She's sending you nudes!"

"Nudes? She was dressed!"

"In lingerie!"

Sukuna doesn't know how to set boundaries. He's never had to. He doesn't date. You're the first girl he's ever been interested in like that, and his pride and narcissism have him believing that you had to accommodate for his shortcomings.

That you had to manage his problems because he likes you and you know that, and you know you're his first girlfriend, and isn't that what a relationship is all about? Working through things?

The fact that you're not willing to is what pisses him off.

"She shouldn't be doing that. You shouldn't be allowing her! It's cheating!" You yell at him harshly, shoving him back as he approaches you.

"I can't get pictures now? It's not like I'm fucking touching her! You know I wouldn't touch her."

"It doesn't matter. Cheating isn't just touching, Sukuna! I don't want you interacting with other girls like that!"

He's boiling now, pissed at how you're talking to him, like you're trying to dictate his life.

"That's how I am! That's how I've always been. You knew that, and you still agreed to date me!"

"What? No! You asking me to date you meant that you'd stop all of this!"

It turns into a screaming match, with you walking out of his life.

And he thinks he's good for a while. Sukuna spends his nights in clubs, faded as fuck with girls all over him like he's some shiny lady-magnet. He posts his nights on his private story so you can see it.

He regularly drives past places he knows you frequently go to in hopes of running into you. He passes by your friend's places in hopes of seeing you. Everything he does is done with the intention of catching your attention.

It rakes him 5 weeks to show up at your doorstep again, eyes bloodshot and posture slumped.

Sukuna's mouth is on yours the minute you open the door, lips gently moving over your own as he holds your body to his. "I won't talk to her again," he murmurs, gently pushing you into your house and shutting the door behind him. "I won't talk to any other girl again. I swear, baby. Just take me back, baby."

Some may call you stupid for going back, but they're not here to hear the desperation in his voice, nor can they see the clear need in his eyes as he looks at you.

"Promise?" You whisper against his mouth, your hands in his hair as your breaths mingle.

"Promise, baby." His mouth moves to your neck, attacking the skin with teeth and tongue, "Fuck all the rest. I don't want them."

[midnightspasms]

showing up after 5 weeks of girls being on his story?? oh he must be out of his damn mind😒 I would've slammed the door on his dumbass

😭😭😭I do not condone Reader's actionss

maybe

[midnightspasms]

i damn near fell to my knees seeing reader take him back after she saw his private stories🙂‍↕️

I can't even defend her😭😭😭😭😭😭 but come on, it's Sukunaaa

[midnightspasms]

Sukuna's walking a thin line when it comes to his relationship with you. There's the part of him that considers you his best friend, the one person he's comfortable enough to tell everything to.

Then there's the part of him that's undeniably attracted to you. And it's not just your looks.

Sukuna loves the idea of you; the pretty rich girl who shouldn't be hanging out with him, the one whose father scowls at him every minute, whose friends can't help but stare at him in fear and disdain.

You're everything he's been told he can never be. You are the perfection his chaos can never become, and he can't help but love it, can't help but chase after it again and again.

It blurs the line that keeps you two as friends.

It's what has his arm around you during lunch, has him breaking his wallet to buy you your stupid lattes and your stupid shoes and jewellery. It's what has him keeping you on his lap at parties, gatherings.

It's what has his palms sneaking under your skirt, fingers tracing the lace outline of your panties as you sit on his lap in the stupid little gathering he'd pulled you to.

"You horny?" Sukuna whispers into your ear as his middle finger reaches the damp crotch of your panties, pushing the fabric between your lips. "Cause you're so fucking wet, baby."

You suck in a breath. Your lower half is obscured by the table before before you, but you're certain if someone were to come round, if someone were to just crane their neck a bit to peak, they'd see his hands between your legs.

"Sukuna..." Your words come out breathy, and the stimulation has your eyes fluttering. You hang your head low as you try to hide the pleasure etching itself unto your face.

He pulls your underwear to the side, and practically sighs when the pad of his finger touches your bare pussy. He groans as he gets a feel for it, rubbing along your slit before going up to gently tug at your clit.

You bite your lip, holding your moans as his middle and ring finger begin to push into you inch by delicious inch, the thumb of his other hand still working your clit so well.

You're pulsing around the two fingers stuffing your pussy, liquid pooling out as he pumps them in and out of you.

He presses forward, bringing his mouth to your ear. "Let's leave, yeah?" He ghosts your entrance. "I wanna taste your pussy, baby."

You're too dazed to think when he fucks you in his car. Sukuna has you bouncing on his dick in the driver's seat, your legs around his waist as he guides you up and down his rock hard cock.

He has a hand on your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're so fucking sexy, baby," he whispers as he watches you, eyes going from your face to your tits bouncing so erotically for him.

The empty parking lot is quiet save for the unmistakable sounds of sex; squelching pussy on dick, skin slapping and low, breathy moans from you and Sukuna.

"Ride me. Fuck- fuck this cock like you own it." He groans, raising his hip to meet you every time you come down on his cock. He's so out of it, staring at you with half lidded eyes as you whine and moan from how good his dick is in you.

His thighs are glistening with pre-cum and the spit from when he'd eaten your pussy, and the way your greedy hole's squeezing him in and pulsing around his shaft has his head falling back as he fucks into you.

"Kuna," You moan, eyes tightly shut as you're fucked into his dashboard, your back rubbing uncomfortably against it. But you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with how good his dick feels moving in and out of your tight pussy.

One of Sukuna's hands come up to grab at your left tit, the one on your neck coming down to furiously rub at your clit.

"Cum for me, baby," he pleads as his thighs begin to quake and his orgasm nears, "Come on. Give it to me, girl. Cum on this cock- it's begging, baby."

The problem with stepping across the line that defines your relationship is that you two weren't ready for it. You understood each other, but that doesn't mean you fit all that well.

He wants you, badly.

You want him too.

But that's not always enough. He's mean and he's rude, and he doesn't know how to be the kind of man you want. And you're not ready to compromise for his shortcomings.

You last two weeks before you fight.

"We were just texting!" Sukuna screams out, following after you as you stalk away from his bedroom, quickly crossing the hallway to his living room.

"She's sending you nudes!"

"Nudes? She was dressed!"

"In lingerie!"

Sukuna doesn't know how to set boundaries. He's never had to. He doesn't date. You're the first girl he's ever been interested in like that, and his pride and narcissism have him believing that you had to accommodate for his shortcomings.

That you had to manage his problems because he likes you and you know that, and you know you're his first girlfriend, and isn't that what a relationship is all about? Working through things?

The fact that you're not willing to is what pisses him off.

"She shouldn't be doing that. You shouldn't be allowing her! It's cheating!" You yell at him harshly, shoving him back as he approaches you.

"I can't get pictures now? It's not like I'm fucking touching her! You know I wouldn't touch her."

"It doesn't matter. Cheating isn't just touching, Sukuna! I don't want you interacting with other girls like that!"

He's boiling now, pissed at how you're talking to him, like you're trying to dictate his life.

"That's how I am! That's how I've always been. You knew that, and you still agreed to date me!"

"What? No! You asking me to date you meant that you'd stop all of this!"

It turns into a screaming match, with you walking out of his life.

And he thinks he's good for a while. Sukuna spends his nights in clubs, faded as fuck with girls all over him like he's some shiny lady-magnet. He posts his nights on his private story so you can see it.

He regularly drives past places he knows you frequently go to in hopes of running into you. He passes by your friend's places in hopes of seeing you. Everything he does is done with the intention of catching your attention.

It rakes him 5 weeks to show up at your doorstep again, eyes bloodshot and posture slumped.

Sukuna's mouth is on yours the minute you open the door, lips gently moving over your own as he holds your body to his. "I won't talk to her again," he murmurs, gently pushing you into your house and shutting the door behind him. "I won't talk to any other girl again. I swear, baby. Just take me back, baby."

Some may call you stupid for going back, but they're not here to hear the desperation in his voice, nor can they see the clear need in his eyes as he looks at you.

"Promise?" You whisper against his mouth, your hands in his hair as your breaths mingle.

"Promise, baby." His mouth moves to your neck, attacking the skin with teeth and tongue, "Fuck all the rest. I don't want them."

[midnightspasms]

Adorable, I must say

𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ˳ 　　　You had both planned this for a while now—a simple hangout. Sukuna, being his usual aloof self, had grumbled when you suggested it, but he eventually agreed. There was something almost amusing about how he always acted like he didn’t care, like spending time with you was some kind of chore. But you knew better. Beneath that stoic front was someone who felt much more than he let on, and sometimes, you caught glimpses of that.

As you sat on the couch waiting for him to finish getting ready, you noticed his phone buzz on the armrest next to you. The screen lit up, and out of the corner of your eye, you caught a notification from his calendar app. You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you read it.

"Reminder: Date."

Date? You glanced up at him, feeling your stomach do a little flip. Wait, did he think this was a date? You had just thought it was a casual day out, something simple. But the word on his phone said otherwise. You tried to shake the thought, but it lingered, filling you with a strange sense of warmth.

On the outside, Sukuna looked as if he couldn’t be bothered—his normal eyes gazed ahead as if the day was just another mundane task, but his lower set, the ones he never liked to acknowledge, remained fixed on you. Always watching, always checking.

He huffed under his breath as if annoyed, but you knew better. His body language, though subtle, gave him away. The way he kept closer to you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you both got up to leave—it was all telling, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, already walking toward the door.

You smiled softly to yourself, not commenting on the “date” reminder. It wasn’t worth teasing him about, especially when you were sure he’d just deny it or brush it off like it was nothing. But knowing that he had marked today as something more than just hanging out? That was enough.

Once outside, Sukuna stayed in step with you, even though he pretended not to. You noticed it in the smallest ways—how his gaze would flicker to you every time you spoke, how his body shifted just a little bit closer whenever you crossed the street. His gruff exterior was intact, but there was a protective undertone to his presence, one that wasn’t as obvious until you paid attention.

As you both wandered through town, you couldn’t help but find it endearing how Sukuna tried so hard to act indifferent. But even as he kept his usual mask of disinterest, his actions betrayed him. When he walked slightly ahead of you, you noticed how he slowed down just enough for you to catch up. When you passed by a busy crowd, his arm would occasionally brush against yours, the small touch grounding you in his presence.

There were moments when his eyes flicked to yours, a quick glance before looking away, but the warmth in those fleeting seconds told you everything you needed to know. Even though he might not admit it—especially not out loud—this day was something special to him.

It was more than just a hangout. It was a date. At least, to him, it was.

And though Sukuna might never say the words, might never give you a traditional display of affection, the way he lingered just a little too long at your side, the way his eyes never strayed too far from you, was enough.

He didn’t need to say it. You were his, and days like these—just like you—meant more to him than he’d ever let on.　　‿ ݂۫ ׄ ༊࿔

[midnightspasms]

"Won't you sing for me?"

Sukuna sees when you sing to Uraume, and it fills him with a burning need to have you.

He watches you sit at his companion's feet, your head on their lap, and their hand twisted in your hair as you sing, so beautiful, so melodic.

Who are you? Some servant girl he has never once noticed. Some mere mortal he has never bothered with before.

How can this sound flow from mortal lips?

He watches, transfixed as you sing, standing just behind the doors that lead to the balcony from his room, feeling like a thief in his own home. His four eyes are trained on you, on the top of your head, as you keep singing.

You just keep singing!

'Is this sorcery?' He thinks as he turns back, away from the scene of your serenade.

That night, he calls you to his room for the very first time.

There is a stiffness in Uraume's stride as they enter the servant chambers to call you. Your chest beats hard as you make your way down the dark walls, goosebumps erupting all over your flesh as you're face to face with the mahogany doors of his rooms.

When you open, the king of Curses is sat languidly on the plush chair in the middle of his room, his thick legs spread wide with pride. His chest is bare, and it gleams, planes of muscle exposed to your eyes, his thighs barely covered by the white fabric of his kimono.

He is silent as he urges you forward, staring as you stand right before him.

He stretches out his hand to you then, his pupils dilated, but his eyes soft as he beckons you. "Closer," with a voice deep and smooth like warm honey.

He curls his fingers forward briefly as he calls you to him. And as though possessed by the heat of his gaze, you find yourself walking forward without hesitation.

When Sukuna sits you on his lap, your body feels as though it's been engulfed in flames. His lower pair of arms are on your thighs, monstrously large palms caressing the skin of your legs. The upper left arm supports his head, elbow on the arm of the chair, the upper right just resting against the other arm of his chair.

His touch is as hot as his gaze, and the proximity has your throat tightening and your stomach twisting.

He reaches under your clothing, and embarrassingly, your legs spread wider for his hand almost automatically. When his finger comes to touch the slick of your heat, your mouth falls open in a light moan.

His idle arm comes up to thumb at your bottom lip softly. Then the one that was just between your legs comes up too, rubbing your wetness on your mouth.

"Sing," Sukuna says to you with that honeyed voice, that tone that makes you desperate for his approval.

And you sing for him.

You sing until his hand is back between your legs.

You sing as he trails his fingers along your weeping slit.

You sing as he thumbs at your burning clit, pressing the rough pad of his thumb against the aching bud.

You sing as he plunges his fingers deep into your cunt.

You sing as he finger fucks you on his thighs, your legs parted, one foot planted on the armrest of his own chair as he thrusts and thrusts his thick fingers into you repeatedly.

You sing as your body succumbs to him, as your song becomes incoherent, desperate moans falling from your mouth as you coat his fingers in your cum.

You sing as he fucks you in that chair.

You sing as he fucks you in his bed.

You sing as he fucks you on the balcony where he first saw you, crying out as you're stretched wide on two large cocks, crying into the night as he fills you over and over and over.

And you still sing, as he takes you back into his bed, two arms possessive holding your weakened body to him.

You sing as you fall asleep in Sukuna's arms.

[midnightspasms]

pairing: True form! Sukuna x priestess!reader

synopsis: You're the priestess of a small village Sukuna is visiting, and he's sent to receive blessings from you. He doesn't believe in shamans, but he's ready to listen to every lie you tell him.

warnings: true-form sukuna(two cocks), unprotected sex, slight mention of blood.

Sukuna sits with knees parted wide, and ankles crossed over each other atop the satin cushions in your shrine. His body is massive, two of his arms over his thighs, the palms of the other two planted on the ground next to his knees. He's leaning forward, watching you with mockery evident in the red of his eyes and the curve of his grin.

He thinks you're a fake, with your beguiling eyes and invitingly red lips, and the gossamer fabric that drapes over your frame. His eyes scan the jewels that are scattered over you and your shrine; the anklets, necklaces, and rings near the corner to his left; offerings that the people of this village give you.

This expedition was meant to be a quick one, a swift visit to the village that had sided with him decades ago during a war. Sukuna's intention was to see the chief, enjoy a festival in his own honour and maybe fuck a concubine or two in the palace before heading back.

But near the end of the festivities, the chief, red feom wine and round from gluttony, had offered to send him to the village's shrine to be blessed by their priestess. The curse found the thought amusing.

Ryōmen Sukuna didn't need any blessings.

But he was bored, and the concubine that was waiting in his chambers, an offering from the chief, wasn't the most exciting to look at. So he obliged, being led to the surprisingly lavish shrine at the back of the palace, and took a seat before you.

Truth be told, he didn't believe in shamans. Sorcerers and cursed spirits were the only sources of magic in this world, and the dead did not dwell with the living. Anybody that believed otherwise, that they could call upon the spirit of a dead man, was a liar.

But Sukuna was bored, and he was willing to entertain any lies that fell from your lips.

You were beguiling, rising to your knees the instant be pulled the silken blue curtains of your shrine, bowing before his feet. He sat without speaking, waiting for you to lie to him about blessings and prophecies.

When you rose from your position, looking up to his eyes, his lips stretched even further.

Your clothing is diaphanous; gauze like fabric going round your neck and falling over your breasts and your stomach. It's held together with gold fastenings around your waist and collar, but he can see your breasts, your pebbled nipples calling to him indecently.

Had he known the village had a priestess so ravishing, he'd have come for blessings sooner.

The thought has him chuckling.

"Speak, Charlatan." He commands you, his voice gravelly, deep.

He expects a frown, a stutter maybe, but not this. He doesn't expect you to smirk at him in that way, as though you expected his words.

"Charlatan? Is that what you think of me, Ryōmen-sama...?"

Your voice is like velvet. It's music to his ears and honey to his tongue. And your tone is amused, almost pleased. But still, he sees something.

"You joke of a priestess. You're a sham, aren't you?" He's laughing now, even more intrigued.

You grin at him, and he sees it again, finally understanding the glint he'd caught sight of. Every single tooth in your mouth is sharp, making you look vicious, like some snake.

"You were quicker than I expected." You told him.

"Cursed spirit?" He asks.

You stand to your feet before him, and now he can see everything; the sinful outline of your figure, the mould between your legs. He's hardening beneath his clothes, and he's sure you can see it.

"My mother was a whore for a water spirit." You told him.

Siren.

"And you?" He asks with a grin, leaning back and uncrossing his ankles sk his feet are planted on the ground, legs parted wide invitingly.

"And me?" You whisper to him with a sensuous smile on your pretty lips, walking over to where he was sat.

He's grinning when you're right above him, one of his hands coming to hold your shin, slowly rubbing, going upwards till his palm is at the back of your knee.

"Are you a whore like your mother?" He says and licks his lips, well aware that his cocks are obscenely hard, making his desire obvious.

Your pussy is glorious, it sucks him in the instant be starts pushing into you. His hands are all over your body as you moan and whine his name, palms over your breasts, tweaking your nipples, a thumb pushing into the tight rim of your ass, preparing it for his second cock.

"Su- Sukuna...~" you groan as he bottoms out into your cunt, the stretch as intense as it was pleasurable. You'd never had anything so big, pulsing with heat and veins running over the side as he massaged your velvety walls with each thrust.

He's grinning wide as he watches your face contort with pleasure from each move he makes. That and the fact that he's barely done anything and you're creaming.

"I've never fucked a curse," He tells you, thrusting his hips up and into you whilst his thumb dug deeper into your ass, trying to stretch it out. The overstimulation had tears coming to your eyes.

"But you're only half a curse, aren't you?" He laughs. "Is that why you're pussy's so tight? So warm- fuck!" He resists the urge to through his head back when your can't flutters around him.

His upper left arm is supporting his weight with his palm on the ground, and so is his upper right. The lower right, previously twisting at your nipples is now wrapped around his bottom cock, needy and hard, spurting pre unto the rounders of your ass, and the thumb of his lower left is finally pulling out of your tight rim of muscle.

Your words are incomprehensible now, and he can feel you drooling unto his shoulder, but he doesn't care much now. Not when the mushroom tip of his needy cock is bullying it's way into your second hole, stretching it as he pushed through.

"Fuuckk me-" your moan is broken as you're filled to the brim with dick, nails digging into the corded muscle of his back and sharp teeth biting into his wet shoulder, drawing blood and you lick at it greedily.

The pain has him grunting, has him harshly bucking into you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You scream when he does, your teeth leaving his shoulder with a deep bite mark.

But he doesn't care.

Not when both his cocks are enveloped by your warmth, a white ring circling the base of the one in your pussy as he pounds into you desperately.

"You fucking whore-" He spits out as he fucks you, hard and unforgivable, two of his palms digging into your sides to hold you up so he can slam into you easier. "-sucking me in this way. Look how bad you fucking want it."

You're drooling again, your body limp in his hold, tears beginning to gather in your eyes. "Please. Fu- fuck please." What are you begging for? "Keep going.... don't stop- don't stop fucking me."

He grins at that, increasing his pace. Each squelch of your pussy, each loud slap of his balls against your ass has both of you nearing the edge. And he doesn't care who else can hear him fucking the priestess inside her own sacred shrine, because nothing is stopping him from taking you with him when he leaves.

[midnightspasms]

pairing: True form! Sukuna x priestess!reader

synopsis: You're the priestess of a small village Sukuna is visiting, and he's sent to receive blessings from you. He doesn't believe in shamans, but he's ready to listen to every lie you tell him.

warnings: true-form sukuna(two cocks), unprotected sex, slight mention of blood.

Sukuna sits with knees parted wide, and ankles crossed over each other atop the satin cushions in your shrine. His body is massive, two of his arms over his thighs, the palms of the other two planted on the ground next to his knees. He's leaning forward, watching you with mockery evident in the red of his eyes and the curve of his grin.

He thinks you're a fake, with your beguiling eyes and invitingly red lips, and the gossamer fabric that drapes over your frame. His eyes scan the jewels that are scattered over you and your shrine; the anklets, necklaces, and rings near the corner to his left; offerings that the people of this village give you.

This expedition was meant to be a quick one, a swift visit to the village that had sided with him decades ago during a war. Sukuna's intention was to see the chief, enjoy a festival in his own honour and maybe fuck a concubine or two in the palace before heading back.

But near the end of the festivities, the chief, red feom wine and round from gluttony, had offered to send him to the village's shrine to be blessed by their priestess. The curse found the thought amusing.

Ryōmen Sukuna didn't need any blessings.

But he was bored, and the concubine that was waiting in his chambers, an offering from the chief, wasn't the most exciting to look at. So he obliged, being led to the surprisingly lavish shrine at the back of the palace, and took a seat before you.

Truth be told, he didn't believe in shamans. Sorcerers and cursed spirits were the only sources of magic in this world, and the dead did not dwell with the living. Anybody that believed otherwise, that they could call upon the spirit of a dead man, was a liar.

But Sukuna was bored, and he was willing to entertain any lies that fell from your lips.

You were beguiling, rising to your knees the instant be pulled the silken blue curtains of your shrine, bowing before his feet. He sat without speaking, waiting for you to lie to him about blessings and prophecies.

When you rose from your position, looking up to his eyes, his lips stretched even further.

Your clothing is diaphanous; gauze like fabric going round your neck and falling over your breasts and your stomach. It's held together with gold fastenings around your waist and collar, but he can see your breasts, your pebbled nipples calling to him indecently.

Had he known the village had a priestess so ravishing, he'd have come for blessings sooner.

The thought has him chuckling.

"Speak, Charlatan." He commands you, his voice gravelly, deep.

He expects a frown, a stutter maybe, but not this. He doesn't expect you to smirk at him in that way, as though you expected his words.

"Charlatan? Is that what you think of me, Ryōmen-sama...?"

Your voice is like velvet. It's music to his ears and honey to his tongue. And your tone is amused, almost pleased. But still, he sees something.

"You joke of a priestess. You're a sham, aren't you?" He's laughing now, even more intrigued.

You grin at him, and he sees it again, finally understanding the glint he'd caught sight of. Every single tooth in your mouth is sharp, making you look vicious, like some snake.

"You were quicker than I expected." You told him.

"Cursed spirit?" He asks.

You stand to your feet before him, and now he can see everything; the sinful outline of your figure, the mould between your legs. He's hardening beneath his clothes, and he's sure you can see it.

"My mother was a whore for a water spirit." You told him.

Siren.

"And you?" He asks with a grin, leaning back and uncrossing his ankles sk his feet are planted on the ground, legs parted wide invitingly.

"And me?" You whisper to him with a sensuous smile on your pretty lips, walking over to where he was sat.

He's grinning when you're right above him, one of his hands coming to hold your shin, slowly rubbing, going upwards till his palm is at the back of your knee.

"Are you a whore like your mother?" He says and licks his lips, well aware that his cocks are obscenely hard, making his desire obvious.

Your pussy is glorious, it sucks him in the instant be starts pushing into you. His hands are all over your body as you moan and whine his name, palms over your breasts, tweaking your nipples, a thumb pushing into the tight rim of your ass, preparing it for his second cock.

"Su- Sukuna...~" you groan as he bottoms out into your cunt, the stretch as intense as it was pleasurable. You'd never had anything so big, pulsing with heat and veins running over the side as he massaged your velvety walls with each thrust.

He's grinning wide as he watches your face contort with pleasure from each move he makes. That and the fact that he's barely done anything and you're creaming.

"I've never fucked a curse," He tells you, thrusting his hips up and into you whilst his thumb dug deeper into your ass, trying to stretch it out. The overstimulation had tears coming to your eyes.

"But you're only half a curse, aren't you?" He laughs. "Is that why you're pussy's so tight? So warm- fuck!" He resists the urge to through his head back when your can't flutters around him.

His upper left arm is supporting his weight with his palm on the ground, and so is his upper right. The lower right, previously twisting at your nipples is now wrapped around his bottom cock, needy and hard, spurting pre unto the rounders of your ass, and the thumb of his lower left is finally pulling out of your tight rim of muscle.

Your words are incomprehensible now, and he can feel you drooling unto his shoulder, but he doesn't care much now. Not when the mushroom tip of his needy cock is bullying it's way into your second hole, stretching it as he pushed through.

"Fuuckk me-" your moan is broken as you're filled to the brim with dick, nails digging into the corded muscle of his back and sharp teeth biting into his wet shoulder, drawing blood and you lick at it greedily.

The pain has him grunting, has him harshly bucking into you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You scream when he does, your teeth leaving his shoulder with a deep bite mark.

But he doesn't care.

Not when both his cocks are enveloped by your warmth, a white ring circling the base of the one in your pussy as he pounds into you desperately.

"You fucking whore-" He spits out as he fucks you, hard and unforgivable, two of his palms digging into your sides to hold you up so he can slam into you easier. "-sucking me in this way. Look how bad you fucking want it."

You're drooling again, your body limp in his hold, tears beginning to gather in your eyes. "Please. Fu- fuck please." What are you begging for? "Keep going.... don't stop- don't stop fucking me."

He grins at that, increasing his pace. Each squelch of your pussy, each loud slap of his balls against your ass has both of you nearing the edge. And he doesn't care who else can hear him fucking the priestess inside her own sacred shrine, because nothing is stopping him from taking you with him when he leaves.

[midnightspasms]

pairing: True form! Sukuna x priestess!reader

synopsis: You're the priestess of a small village Sukuna is visiting, and he's sent to receive blessings from you. He doesn't believe in shamans, but he's ready to listen to every lie you tell him.

warnings: true-form sukuna(two cocks), unprotected sex, slight mention of blood.

Sukuna sits with knees parted wide, and ankles crossed over each other atop the satin cushions in your shrine. His body is massive, two of his arms over his thighs, the palms of the other two planted on the ground next to his knees. He's leaning forward, watching you with mockery evident in the red of his eyes and the curve of his grin.

He thinks you're a fake, with your beguiling eyes and invitingly red lips, and the gossamer fabric that drapes over your frame. His eyes scan the jewels that are scattered over you and your shrine; the anklets, necklaces, and rings near the corner to his left; offerings that the people of this village give you.

This expedition was meant to be a quick one, a swift visit to the village that had sided with him decades ago during a war. Sukuna's intention was to see the chief, enjoy a festival in his own honour and maybe fuck a concubine or two in the palace before heading back.

But near the end of the festivities, the chief, red feom wine and round from gluttony, had offered to send him to the village's shrine to be blessed by their priestess. The curse found the thought amusing.

Ryōmen Sukuna didn't need any blessings.

But he was bored, and the concubine that was waiting in his chambers, an offering from the chief, wasn't the most exciting to look at. So he obliged, being led to the surprisingly lavish shrine at the back of the palace, and took a seat before you.

Truth be told, he didn't believe in shamans. Sorcerers and cursed spirits were the only sources of magic in this world, and the dead did not dwell with the living. Anybody that believed otherwise, that they could call upon the spirit of a dead man, was a liar.

But Sukuna was bored, and he was willing to entertain any lies that fell from your lips.

You were beguiling, rising to your knees the instant be pulled the silken blue curtains of your shrine, bowing before his feet. He sat without speaking, waiting for you to lie to him about blessings and prophecies.

When you rose from your position, looking up to his eyes, his lips stretched even further.

Your clothing is diaphanous; gauze like fabric going round your neck and falling over your breasts and your stomach. It's held together with gold fastenings around your waist and collar, but he can see your breasts, your pebbled nipples calling to him indecently.

Had he known the village had a priestess so ravishing, he'd have come for blessings sooner.

The thought has him chuckling.

"Speak, Charlatan." He commands you, his voice gravelly, deep.

He expects a frown, a stutter maybe, but not this. He doesn't expect you to smirk at him in that way, as though you expected his words.

"Charlatan? Is that what you think of me, Ryōmen-sama...?"

Your voice is like velvet. It's music to his ears and honey to his tongue. And your tone is amused, almost pleased. But still, he sees something.

"You joke of a priestess. You're a sham, aren't you?" He's laughing now, even more intrigued.

You grin at him, and he sees it again, finally understanding the glint he'd caught sight of. Every single tooth in your mouth is sharp, making you look vicious, like some snake.

"You were quicker than I expected." You told him.

"Cursed spirit?" He asks.

You stand to your feet before him, and now he can see everything; the sinful outline of your figure, the mould between your legs. He's hardening beneath his clothes, and he's sure you can see it.

"My mother was a whore for a water spirit." You told him.

Siren.

"And you?" He asks with a grin, leaning back and uncrossing his ankles sk his feet are planted on the ground, legs parted wide invitingly.

"And me?" You whisper to him with a sensuous smile on your pretty lips, walking over to where he was sat.

He's grinning when you're right above him, one of his hands coming to hold your shin, slowly rubbing, going upwards till his palm is at the back of your knee.

"Are you a whore like your mother?" He says and licks his lips, well aware that his cocks are obscenely hard, making his desire obvious.

Your pussy is glorious, it sucks him in the instant be starts pushing into you. His hands are all over your body as you moan and whine his name, palms over your breasts, tweaking your nipples, a thumb pushing into the tight rim of your ass, preparing it for his second cock.

"Su- Sukuna...~" you groan as he bottoms out into your cunt, the stretch as intense as it was pleasurable. You'd never had anything so big, pulsing with heat and veins running over the side as he massaged your velvety walls with each thrust.

He's grinning wide as he watches your face contort with pleasure from each move he makes. That and the fact that he's barely done anything and you're creaming.

"I've never fucked a curse," He tells you, thrusting his hips up and into you whilst his thumb dug deeper into your ass, trying to stretch it out. The overstimulation had tears coming to your eyes.

"But you're only half a curse, aren't you?" He laughs. "Is that why you're pussy's so tight? So warm- fuck!" He resists the urge to through his head back when your can't flutters around him.

His upper left arm is supporting his weight with his palm on the ground, and so is his upper right. The lower right, previously twisting at your nipples is now wrapped around his bottom cock, needy and hard, spurting pre unto the rounders of your ass, and the thumb of his lower left is finally pulling out of your tight rim of muscle.

Your words are incomprehensible now, and he can feel you drooling unto his shoulder, but he doesn't care much now. Not when the mushroom tip of his needy cock is bullying it's way into your second hole, stretching it as he pushed through.

"Fuuckk me-" your moan is broken as you're filled to the brim with dick, nails digging into the corded muscle of his back and sharp teeth biting into his wet shoulder, drawing blood and you lick at it greedily.

The pain has him grunting, has him harshly bucking into you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You scream when he does, your teeth leaving his shoulder with a deep bite mark.

But he doesn't care.

Not when both his cocks are enveloped by your warmth, a white ring circling the base of the one in your pussy as he pounds into you desperately.

"You fucking whore-" He spits out as he fucks you, hard and unforgivable, two of his palms digging into your sides to hold you up so he can slam into you easier. "-sucking me in this way. Look how bad you fucking want it."

You're drooling again, your body limp in his hold, tears beginning to gather in your eyes. "Please. Fu- fuck please." What are you begging for? "Keep going.... don't stop- don't stop fucking me."

He grins at that, increasing his pace. Each squelch of your pussy, each loud slap of his balls against your ass has both of you nearing the edge. And he doesn't care who else can hear him fucking the priestess inside her own sacred shrine, because nothing is stopping him from taking you with him when he leaves.