#Jjk x reader smut

[cuntyji]

you were sure, without a doubt, that math had been invented by the devil himself—or at the very least, some ancient sadist who found joy in human suffering. and who else but the sumerians, the architects of civilization, to introduce numbers and wedge them into the very fabric of reality?

which brought you here, sprawled out on gojo satoru’s bed, textbooks and loose papers abandoned at the edge of the mattress, your laptop open but wholly ignored. your eyes were squeezed shut, thighs trembling, and brain struggling—desperately—to process the numbers being traced against your cunt with his tongue.

“you’re fidgeting too much,” he mumbled against your folds, the vibration of his voice sending another pulse of heat up your spine. he sounded amused, always so amused, as if he weren’t the one making this impossible.

“oh, i wonder why,” you bit back, and your sharp exhale turned into a shaky whimper when his tongue swirled again—slow, purposeful.

"mm, attitude," he teased, pulling back slightly. his glasses—he had insisted on keeping them on, of course, just to be extra insufferable—slipped an inch down his nose. he peered over them, a lazy grin on his lips, cerulean eyes twinkling with mischief. "you should be thanking me, you know. most people have to suffer through studying, but me? i’m making it fun for you, baby."

fun, he says. as if this wasn’t absolute torture.

"fun for you," you gritted out, propping yourself up on your elbows to glare down at him. it was hard to look menacing when your legs were thrown over his shoulders, his breath hot against your dripping cunt.

“fun for both of us,” he corrected, and before you could retort, he dove back in, tongue flat against your clit before spelling out a number with slow, languid strokes.

your back arched. fuck. that was—okay, that was definitely a six. or maybe a nine? shit.

he pulled back again, looking far too pleased with himself. “c’mon, princess. what’s the answer?”

you struggled to keep your voice even, mind still hazy. “si—sixty-nine?”

he huffed a laugh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “mmm, close, but not quite.”

"what do you mean not quite—"

before you could argue, he started again, this time tracing a much longer sequence of numbers, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through your core. your nails dug into the sheets, jaw slack. it took you a second—two, three?—before you realized: oh. he was giving you the answer to the long equation from earlier.

bastard.

“satoru—!”

“concentrate,” he chided, pausing just long enough to smirk up at you before resuming, each flick of his tongue slow, deliberate.

"i—i can't!"

"yes, you can," he murmured against you, tracing another swirl, another long stroke that had your toes curling. "you want that A, don’t you?"

your head lolled back, a moan slipping out before you could stop it. god, you hated him. hated how smug he was, how good he was.

"better get the answer right, or you're getting a big fat D," he chuckled, pressing a final, lingering kiss against your sensitive clit. "literally."

your breath hitched. okay. fine. if this was how he wanted to play, you were going to win this damn game.

you swallowed, chest heaving, and forced your scattered thoughts into something coherent. focus. deep breath. think of the numbers, not the way he was staring at you over the rim of his glasses, lips shiny with your slick, eyes full of challenge.

“eight…three…seven…five…” your voice wavered, but you kept going, pushing past the pleasure clawing at your mind.

gojo’s grin widened, and his grip on your thighs tightened just slightly. “atta girl.”

[kamitv]

Your best friend Sukuna is also a complete pervert.

The guy just won’t stop jerking off in your bedroom! The first time you caught him, you thought he’d stop considering how that only resulted in you using that filthy mouth of yours to milk him for all he’s worth. And yet… here you are walking into your bedroom to find Sukuna fisting his fat cock again.

It’s funny because now you officially note that not only is he a slut but, your best friend Sukuna is a pervert. As if that wasn’t obvious from the first time.

Standing with his stocky tattooed back facing you, this time unaware of your early arrival into your shared apartment, Sukuna’s busy groaning into a pair of your panties—pressing the flimsy red fabric up against his greedy nose and jerking his cock further into his fist with each inhale he takes.

“S-Shiiit,” This is the only time you ever hear the man stutter. To which he follows up with a whorish moan as his eyes travel to the back of his skull. “I fuckin’ need you-, agh.”

You’d think that anyone in your situation would’ve reacted to this by now but instead you just stand there and watch him for a bit, wondering how long he’ll get off like this until he realizes you’re there.

His cock is lathered in spit and cum, indicating that he’s been in your room for a while now, and you can hear the creamy shhlick that follows his every jerky hand movement. Then comes his groans—you’ve always thought they were the prettiest thing. Deep and husk, an underlining rasp carrying within that throaty sound of pleasure… yeah, he’s always been a slut.

But this? Oh this is a new level for him. Because not only is he getting off to your scent but he’s also lulling his tongue out to press it against the spread of the lacy garment, licking up whatever remains of your taste and moaning at the flavor that hits his needy tongue.

The moan he let out sent a shiver of pure arousal down your spine and straight to your core. His moans are so rare but god does it get you worked up every single time.

And it’s in watching him for a few minutes longer that you realize you had those very same panties on just the other day—something about him licking and sniffing all over something you’d just worn makes your thighs clench together and a puddle of arousal builds up within your current pair.

Sukuna still has yet to realize you’re standing there watching him since he’s lost in his own little world so, he soon tugs your panties away from his face with a very faint whine and messily wraps the fabric around his throbbing cock. Now that was a sight for sore eyes.

His jaw falls open and you can only see just the side of his face but his cheeks are reddened and his eyelashes are fluttering. There’s a vein popping out along his jawline, showing just how tense and needy he is as he starts bucking his hips forward and fucks his plump cock against the fabric of your underwear.

Hunching forward a little, his free hand grips onto your nightstand and he’s letting out all kinds of groans and grunts—searing out a low rasp of your name as his body heats up at just the thought of you.

Sukuna can’t help but imagine what you’d think if you caught him like this, how pathetic he probably seems right now, how desperate. Oh, but he just can’t help it. Ever since you caught him, his perverted side has only gotten worse.

The same panties he’s jerking off with right now are the same ones you wore exactly three days ago. He knows that because you were wearing shorts that day and he couldn’t help the way his eyes fell onto the slutty curve of your ass as a peek of red popped out from your shorts while you bent over to pick something up.

The moment you were out of his sight that day, he jerked off to the thought of you until his hand cramped up. Then there were the flashbacks from when your mouth was on him—the way you looked on your knees, how perfectly his cock slotted into the back of that slutty throat of yours, and how stupidly gorgeous you were with teary eyes and gurgled moans of his names slipping from your lips.

So lost in these same thoughts again, Sukuna doesn’t register the fact that you’ve finally called his name and made your presence known until he feels that soft hand of yours gently press against his shoulder blade.

A whine, crisp and unfiltered comes flying past his lips before he can even try to hold it back and then his darkened-, no, weakened maroon eyes are falling on you and—

“‘Kuna,” You purr, to which he cums into your panties without even trying to hold himself back. “I thought I told you about jerking off in my bedroom?”

His eyes nearly cross with how good his orgasm feels crashing over him, hot ‘n thick spurts of cum gushing from his reddened cockhead before you move your arms to wrap around his waist. Sukuna can’t even keep up with you until it’s too late, suddenly your hands are meeting his tip and you squeeze, preventing him from cumming anymore.

Some obscene sound he didn’t realize he was capable of making exits his whiny throat and his eyes widen beyond belief. “O-Oh my—,” Sukuna just chokes on words, body stilling in an overflow of pleasure for a great deal of reasons, all pertaining to you. “F-Fuuck, let.. h-ha-ah, let me cum,” He’s sputtering out, brain and body malfunctioning.

You flash a pout to mock him, “Should I? Even after you’ve been such a perv? I mean, sneaking into my room again, jerking off with my underwear… I dunno if I should let you do anything after all this.”

His body folds forward a bit but your grip on him doesn’t falter. “Please?” Sukuna chokes, although this time his voice is small—like the word kills him to utter, “I’ll…” He gasps a bit as your grip looses, “I’ll be so fuckin’ good from now on.”

“Promise?” You say in a sly whisper.

Sukuna feels like he can’t even breathe anymore, “P-Promise,” He utters, feeling your grip loosen entirely and watching as he finishes right into your palms. “Fuuuck..”

It’s a big sloppy mess that’s left in your hands as you stroke him through it from behind, going as far as planting these cute lil’ kisses against the dark ink on his back. Sukuna’s head spins and he can’t even begin to fathom the true chokehold you seem to have on him.

He’s never been like this for anyone. Sure, he’s known you for years and you’ve been by his side no matter how much of a dick he’s been to you or other people but, surely that doesn’t warrant the affection he’s beginning to harbor for you.

Perhaps he’s just confusing it with lust. Yeahh, that’s it. Sukuna doesn’t like you or anything, he just wants to fuck you. And okay, maybe there’s a hidden desire deep within to be kinder to you if it means he gets to feel you pressing such sweet kisses against his hot skin more often…

Hell, by the time he finally stops making a mess of your hands, he’s just letting out these quiet pants of pure embarrassment. Glaring off to the side with that brat-like pout on his face, ‘hating’ every second of this.

Especially as you push up on your toes and kiss behind his ear, moving to whisper, “What’s this? Sukuna, are you… embarrassed?”

God, he can’t stand you. Ignoring your teasing entirely, Sukuna reaches over for some tissues to help you clean your hands off and as soon as that’s done, he quickly stumbles his bulky body away from you.

Your best friend is such a large man and yet he jerks off to you in a way that makes you wonder if he’d let you literally walk all over him.

Tucking his indecency back into his sweats, he’s yet to utter a single word to you. Part of him is worried that his voice will come out in a pitch that’s rather foreign to how he typically speaks but, he’ll never tell you that.

No, instead, he just clears his throat and tries to go as far as exit your bedroom.

You scoff, “I know you’re not leaving after all that.”

On instant, as if there was some kind of underlying command in your statement and he was nothing more than some big dog heading to the unspoken heel, Sukuna halts in his tracks. “…And if I am?” He finally manages out, voice an entire octave lower than you expected it to be.

Your arms cross and you frown at him. “So, you come in my bedroom while I’m not here, jerk off with my panties, cum in my hands, barely clean me up, and then leave?”

He’s quiet for a lengthy second or two before returning to his usual cocky demeanor, glancing back at you and smirking. “Yeah,” Sukuna hums nonchalantly—as if he wasn’t moaning like a bitch a few seconds ago & knowing damn well if you told him to get down on his knees for you right now, his body would obey your every word without second thought.

You make this expression that lets him know you’re annoyed but for some reason, that only makes his heart throb weirdly. Then you look away and oh he misses your glaring eyes on him already.

“Unless,” He continues in an attempt to gain both your attention and the control of the situation again. “You wanted something from me?”

Unintentionally giving him what he wants, you spare him another glance—your gaze firm. “An apology maybe.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders.

Sukuna chuckles, “For what?”

You blink. “Jerking off in here after I asked you not to.”

“Oh.” You can’t stand it when he acts like this because next comes the most monotone & emotionless voice he can muster as he mocks your facial expression and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Your face twists up even further in irritation and his cock twitches as you scoff, “The fuck was that?”

Sukuna bites back a smile, “An apology, obviously.”

“A bullshit one, yeah.” You bite back, crossing your arms over one another, “Get over here and apologize to me properly.”

He would put it on his own life that he hates everything about you right now because the way in which his body moves without hesitation is concerning. Sukuna’s walking closer to you before he even realizes, soon towering over you and staring down into your eyes as indifferently as he can.

As if the genuine annoyance and frustration on your face wasn’t making his cock stiffen again…

Your best friend narrows his eyes a bit, “What kinda ‘proper apology’ do you want from me—“

“Get on your knees.” You cut off.

Sukuna’s breath hitches but he hopes you don’t notice it (you do). Scoffing, and acting like he hasn’t pictured this very moment before, he slowly lowers down onto his knees before you and when he looks up…

Well, from this angle you get the perfect view of his cock poking up against his sweats, the sight making you smile—he just got off a few minutes ago and yet here he is hard again just because you ordered him around a bit.

You loom a bit closer to him and move your foot in between his legs, tapping the side of his knee and motioning for him to spread his legs a bit more. Sukuna hates the way his thighs part so obediently wider for you, allowing you to have enough space to stand in between them.

A smile sparks across your face, “You look kinda cute from this angle, y’know.”

He groans, “Shut up ‘n tell me how you want me to apologize already.”

Suddenly your foot is felt pressing against his throbbing bulge and his hips shift forward on instinct. You were… lightly stepping on his erection. Sukuna feels like he’s getting high off of you again and you were still barely even doing anything.

“Can you put your hands behind your back for me?” You request next.

To which he mentally says ‘hell no’ and peers up at you as if you were crazy, “What the fuck does that have to do with an—“

“You wanna make things up to me, don’t you?”

His lips seal shut but you can see a vein popping out in his forehead. He’s so annoyed and flustered that it angers him. Swatting his hands behind his back, Sukuna cocks his head to the side and glares hard, “Now what.”

Your hand meets his chin and you tip his head further up before pulling out your phone, “Say cheese!”

His eyes widen, “You—“

Before he can get out whatever string of curses you’re sure he had for you, you’ve taken over thirty pictures of your best friend on his knees, with his hands behind his back, and your foot stepping on his cock—which you felt angrily twitch from the moment you pulled your phone out until suddenly something wet met your skin.

Looking down as soon as you’re done taking as many pictures as you could before he smacked your phone away, you end up scoffing. “Sukuna, did you just…” Your voice dies off as you bring a hand up over your mouth.

His left eye twitches and his entire face is beat red, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“You just came again. From that??” You make fun of him anyway, taking in the mix of different emotions swirling all through his face.

There’s no change in his usual rough tone but his eyes appear as though he might be serious as he says, “I’m giving you five seconds to run.”

You start laughing so hard in his face that you can’t help but stumble back and plop down on your bed, giggling until you lose your breath. The sound of your laughter makes Sukuna was smash his head against a wall—he hates you so much.

So much so that he soon comes staggering up to his feet and looms closer to you as you writhe in amusement. It’s not until your laughing comes to a stop that you realize he’s just standing over you with a ticked off look on his face.

As you catch your breath, you sit up at the edge of your bed and you’re suddenly reminded of the sheer size difference between you two. Sure, you just had him on his knees for you but fuck is he huge—you almost forgot.

Batting your lashes, your smile slowly fades, “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You’ve been making fun of me and teasing me all day,” Sukuna rasps, leaning down and pressing his palms into the bed beside your thighs. His face gets awfully close to yours, “You think I like being like this? ‘Think I like the way my body reacts to your every fuckin’ word?”

He sounds angry but he’s.. confessing? In a way?

“I can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you…” He trails off with a groan as he leans down and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your head instinctively lifts and you feel him inhale strongly. “The way you smell,” Sukuna finishes, moving a careful hand to your thigh and squeezing lightly, “The way you feel.”

You're the one gasping now, lashes fluttering at the need radiating off of his body as he nuzzles into you, “Sukuna, I—“

“The way you fuckin’ sound,” He practically growls his words out this time, “I know you heard me earlier when I said I need you.”

He pulls away just to look you in the eyes. His other hand meets your vacant thigh and you feel him gently parting your legs, “So tell me, do you still want an apology or do you jus’ want me to show you how bad I want you?”

Scoffing, “I think I have a good idea but,” Your eyes wander off for a second and Sukuna knows exactly where this is going, you did the same thing last time before you ended up in between his legs. “How about this; if I let you fuck me, will you finally stop jerking off in my room?” You end up offering as your gaze finds him once more.

Sukuna merely nods, even though his entire body felt a desperate shudder at the prospect of finally being inside you. Feeling you around him, hearing your moans clearly, watching the way your face twists up in pleasure, and being able to drag his touch all over your body?

He probably would've came again right then and there if it wasn't for his past few abrupt back-to-back orgasms.

And with that, your best friend leans up and trails a hand down to his sweatpants, flashing a knowing smirk down at you, “Depends on how well you take my cock.”

[gojosoups]

cw: yandere!Gojo, revolutionist!Gojo, royalty au, mentions of sexual relationships, unhealthy behavior, manipulation/coercion, blood, death, abuse of power, gaslighting, toxic relationships, possessiveness, and jealousy. not proofread lol

a/n: I had this idea come to mind when I was cleaning lol, might make this into a mini series, like 4-5 chapters? this was in my drafts for a while, but it went through some VERYY heavy editing

Gojo Satoru who's been obsessed with you since childhood, the kingdom's beloved princess and heir in line for the throne. Betrothed to another, a man of the neighbouring kingdom for the sake of diplomacy,

Gojo Satoru—your shadow, your other half—your best friend since childhood, trusted with your life by your parents. Gojo Satoru, a mere servant, and yet he was entirely yours to serve.

The years passed, and what was once an innocent friendship blossomed into something more. Childhood years that were spent in the same bed, throwing sleepovers and tossing feather pillows at each other were now spent with longing glances, shared whispers, and stolen touches beneath the very same sheets.

But of course, no one could know.

The King and Queen would never allow it—their pride and joy, the heir to the throne—lusting after a mere servant? Unbelievable. After all, you were a princess, meant for greatness, beyond whatever a mere palace worker could offer you.

And yet, behind closed doors, your secret was kept safe.

Behind closed doors—you were his. Each day began in his arms, and each night was spent in his arms.

In the eyes of the court, both of you kept up the act.  

Gojo who kept you busy during galas, an arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you towards the ballroom, away from the prying eyes and hands of the men. Meanwhile you, just as possessive of your lover, who kept the female servants busy and as far away from him, because even if he were a mere servant, he certainly was a sight for sore eyes across kingdoms. 

Of course, this secret would not last forever. 

Not when the king and queen, bless their old souls and frail bones, had dreams of grandchildren running around the floral grounds of the palace. Not when they announced your coordination and engagement in front of the whole kingdom. 

While the kingdom rejoiced, streets bustling with excitement as preparations began, that night, you wept in the arms of your lover, crying for your untold future as he held you close. Sobbing into his chest, gripping onto him like he was the only thing you knew. He held you tighter, soothing you and whispering sweet promises in your ear. 

Promises he intended to keep. He would never let you go.

Overnight, the kingdom was taken down.

Your so-called in-laws never made it past the palace gates. Their carriages left abandoned at the border, the once-pristine gold and polished wood torn down. And not a single soul in sight—only a trail of blood leading into the depths of the wood. Yet no one said anything.

Not when the crown was placed atop Gojo Satoru’s head. Not when he took his rightful place on the throne and the kingdom could only bow.

Your parents—silenced with a mere look—could only watch as they were exiled, sent far away from the imperial palace, and kept under his watchful eye. 

After all, how could they object? 

He gave them everything they wanted. 

A kingdom. A legacy. And above all, an heir with eyes as blue as his. 

And he would never let them—or anyone—take you away from him again.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[beloved-yeosang]

Lover!Nananmin 🙂‍↕️

yearner!nanami who, from the moment he laid eyes on you, knew you were meant to be his and he, yours.

you were so sweet to everyone, and that dazzling smile - oh, he was in love. he just had to have you.

he doesn't know what's gotten into him, the usually composed, rigid man suddenly head over heels for the pretty girl next door.

he asks around about you, so desperate to know you - all of you. he finds himself swooning at the very thought of you.

yearner!nanami who finds out you worked at the local bakery and of course all of a sudden he's oh-so-conveniently there every single week just to see you.

yearner!nanami who calls you sweet names whenever he talks to you because he loves the way it tastes on his tongue. and he prays to god that you don't see through the nonchalant facade - wouldn't that be so embarrassing?

yearner!nanami who doesn't know that his so-called 'unrequited love' is reciprocated. yes, of course you had heart eyes whenever you saw him - he was the absolute epitome of a gentleman.

yearner!nanami who finally grows some balls and asks you out and saying he was happy when you agreed would be an understatement. he was over the moon.

and you're glad you accepted, too because he makes that night so magical, it's hard for you to not fall deeper.

he walks you back to your place and it doesn't even take you much thought before you're inviting him in.

yearner!nanami who you find yourself in your bed with in a manner that some would deem inappropriate for a first date but with him - with him everything just felt so right.

oh, and with the way he's worshipping you? yeah, you don't think you're letting him go anytime soon.

yearner!nanami who is convinced that he's had a taste of heaven when he finds himself in between your thighs, laving at your sweetness and your pleasured mewls just spur him on to give you more - oh, anything for you. his large palms keep your legs spread out for him and he delves in for more - he just couldn't get enough.

yearner!nanami who doesn't even know if he's yearning anymore because once he's inside you, it feels like he has everything he could ever wish for. your walls are so snug around him, it's like you were molded to fit him perfectly and he's thanking any god that's listening for this chance he's been given.

he's trying so hard to maintain his composure but you just feel so good around him he thinks he's going to bust just from putting it in.

he finds it in himself to move when you're whining and telling him to 'keep going, please.'

shit, he's gone-

his thoughts are nothing but you, you, you and how he just wants to give you everything you desire and how he's the luckiest man on the planet to be near you. he treats you like you're a privilege because in his mind, he believes that you truly are one.

poor guy is obsessed.

and you are too because the moment he's holding you in his arms, exhausted from your ministrations, lover!nanami is promising you that he's yours alone. do you think it's a bit too soon? nah, you could live by it. it's nanami, after all.

please do not steal, modify, or translate my work.

[ohimsummer]

PUCKER UP! ft. NERDJO

— minors dni, nerdjo x meangirl! reader, college! au, pegging, ass-eating, this started getting sloppy nasty lmao reader is a freak fr, hints of stsg, pet names (pretty boy, princess), kind of proofread

wc 3k….😭

it's easy to get satoru to do anything for you.

he's caught off guard when he opens the door to his dorm and you’re shoving yet another homework assignment in his hands, backing him into the room. he's easily victim to honeyed words from your glossy lips, the flutter of your eyelashes. though, if that isn't enough, a firm palm to his already-hardening bulge is sure to get you whatever you want. the gesture is topped off with a promised reward of sucking him dry, however, you're both painfully aware that you would have done so anyway.

satoru settles beside you on his bed, where you lay browsing through social media. he works dutifully, though still listening and responding to the mindless school gossip that no one else would ever let him know about. you keep him well-informed.

twenty minutes have passed, and you spare the papers a glance. it astounds you that satoru is already halfway finished in less than thirty minutes with what would have taken you at least an hour. it's easy for him...maybe a little too easy. maybe a little unfair.

"you're working too fast.", you huff, wrinkling your nose.

satoru pauses, pen hovering over the paper. he looks between you and your homework. "... is that a problem...?"

you sit up on his bed, staring in disdain at the half-finished work in his lap. "if it was? you're not just rushing, are you?"

here he comes with the pouting. satoru is extremely confident in his work, and he knows you know he'd never let you get a bad grade. "don't critique me, i know what i'm doing–“

"bend over, i'm bored."

his jaw falls slack as you tug open the drawer next to his bed, and pull out the lengthy, baby-blue toy hidden away.

"you–, now–?", he sputters. "i'm in the middle of–"

"oh, shut it, shut it.", you wave off his complaints with a manicured hand. "can't you multitask?"

satoru opens his mouth to give a snarky reply, but his words fall short when you slip the tip of the dildo between your lips. he can feel your eyes on him, but his gaze won't leave the way the toy disappears into your mouth, and blood goes rushing to fill the half-erect hard-on he's been sporting since you got here.

you pull the dildo from your mouth with a 'pop!'. "so? be a good boy and bend over for me?"

it's kind of funny, how you don't even have to touch him or bat a lash or use that one flirty tone that makes his head spin, yet satoru still tugs his own shirt off and pants down. he faces away to lower his head and present his round ass to you. a finger traces over the hem of his boxers, embedded with two bold sets of initials on them: yours and an S.G. not satoru's own name, of course.

with a quick kiss to his thigh, you're pulling the white boxers down his legs and tossing them inside. satoru's asshole sits bare and on display for you, puckered and twitching as you admire him.

as if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, "don't stare so much..."

you break gaze with the hole inches from your face to raise a brow at your boyfriend. "shouldn't you be doing my homework?"

"uh–“, he scrambles to form a sentence."yeah, but–"

"pass me the lube and the harness, too."

satoru obeys your command, reaching into the still-open drawer to pull out a bottle of strawberry-flavoured lubricant and a light blue, leather harness. he reaches back a hand to give it to you, where you snatch both items from his grasp and satoru immediately hears the sound of the tube cap clicking open.

not wanting to be chastised again, satoru tries his hardest to steer his focus back to the papers beside him. the pencil trembles in his hand, but he manages to write all of three words before feeling your finger circling his hole.

he jolts, his face flushes at your mischievous giggle behind him, and satoru coerces his body to relaxation once more. it's a feat which is basically impossible when his mind is fixed on the way your finger traces the rim of his entrance, and the more subtle, wet sounds of you massaging lube into the dildo.

"i don't see you doing any work.", you scold him, and satoru yelps when you pluck a harsh finger against his hole. despite the surprise, his dick twitches at the mild discomfort.

pushing himself again to focus on the blurry words and math problems in front of him, satoru mashes the lead a little harder than he should into the paper, clenching the pencil tightly in his fist. he blocks out the movements and sounds going on behind him: the slick pumping of the dildo strapped to your waist, your other hand clutching and gripping either ass cheek in your palm, sinking nails into the skin for a quick lesson in pain before the pad of your thumb pokes and prods at his puckered hole again.

this lasts for what seems like an eternity before a new sensation sends a shiver up his spine, something that forces a gasp from his lips and raises the thin hairs on his neck. it's warm, wet, and familiar—the overwhelming feel of your tongue bullying its way into his insides.

"hey, hey, i–i won't be able to focus if you're doing that–!", satoru whines, but you pay him no mind. his fists wrench the fabric of the comforter as the slimy, pink muscle worms inside.

behind him, you moan at the flavor, slipping your tongue from his orifice to flatten it against his pale skin, running it from satoru's balls to the top of his ass crack. satoru flinches when you spit on his hole, and whines like a mutt in heat at the sloppy way you make out with his asshole. every kiss and bite to his cheeks has him tightening around your tongue, but you wriggle it with a driven intent to get him nice and loose for the absolute pounding you're about to bestow upon him. it's disgusting, and satoru fucking loves it.

he's so lost in you and your heavenly tongue that he almost doesn't register the warmth spreading in his lower body. it's at the last second that satoru lets out a strangled moan and his first orgasm comes washing over him. ropes of cum shoot out to coat his bare thighs and chiseled abdomen as satoru squirms from the sheer pleasure. he's so fidgety, he almost lets your assignment go slipping off the edge of the bed. it’s grabbed just in time, and he shoves it a little further away to avoid any more of the wet spots his drool has already stained into them.

you let him have his fun, come down from his little high, and then satoru feels your touch retreat from his sensitive behind. "did you still plan on getting that done today, or...?"

satoru shivers, and cranes his neck to give you a puppy-eyed gaze, tears having built up on his lash line. "...it's hard."

his poor, pathetic, puppy-dog tone and the deep pink tint across his cheeks and up to his ears yank at your heartstrings. it's times like this where you feel bad for being mean to him, even if it's all an act. satoru's just so fucking cute, he reminds you that can't keep up the cruel demeanor towards him forever.

"ohh.", you coo at your nerdy, loser boyfriend and peck short kisses onto his ass cheeks. "you want me to go slower, baby?"

"yes. yes, please.", he whines. "i can't focus to finish your work."

so adorable. truthfully you couldn't give less of a fuck about the papers anymore, but it's still a little endearing that even in such a position, satoru is still determined to get you the passing grade you don't deserve.

as promised, you take it down a notch, just to give him more control of his thoughts. and satoru figured taking things a step back would do wonders when you weren't absolutely ravishing his hole, but this...this may be significantly worse.

the once intense fervor of your movements has been replaced with a skillful precision. every stroke and flick of your tongue around his rim feels more pleasurable than the last, and satoru's cock jerks and aches at the slow, sensual sucks to his ass. you replace the dig of your nails with the occasional, unforgiving smack!, only to layer on top a coat of soothing kisses. the drawn-out movements make him even more conscious of every single thing you're doing.

but still, your plan was to grace him with some mercy, and satoru won't allow you to say he didn't at least try. so, with newfound strength, he squeezes the pen in his hand, and he gets to work.

his body remains painfully aware of the thrills and pleasure you shower him with, and satoru struggles to keep those feelings at bay from distracting his mind. it's a challenge, but satoru does likes a challenge, and he finds he's managed to complete the remaining bottom half of the current page. this is it. he's on the final paper, so close to the finish line, before he can stop having to worry about it. and then he feels your gentle tap on his thigh.

it takes him out of the space he's forced himself into. satoru turns until he just sees you in his peripherals. "huh? what's wrong?"

"nothing.", you reassure him. "do you want to pack that up before i start?"

'start?', he thinks, and then he feels the slap of the rubber dildo between his ass cheeks. "ah, um–“

his throat goes dry, and you gliding the heavy length back-and-forth along his asshole doesn't help in the slightest.

"just do your best, okay? i'm happy with a B."

satoru isn't happy with anything below an A-, but the complaint is stripped from his tongue as he feels the thick tip of your cock sinking into his hole. even with your slow movements, it knocks the wind from his lungs, and all he can let out is a choked moan. stuck gripping the streets, his cheek is smushed against the bed and his mouth agape, until satoru finally feels you flush against the back of his thighs.

there’s a beat, then your encouraging voice in his ear: “breath, satoru.”

a second later and you can see the tension leaving his larger, toned body. your hands make a delicate path up the curve of his back, massaging his sensitive nape which leaves him gasping, before one of them trails back up his spine. you apply pressure as you go, further pronouncing the arch in satoru’s pliant body, and the wandering hand ends at his hip.

slowly, you unsheathe the girthy, faux length from his ass, revealing more and more and more until only the tip remains. his hole tightens, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so jealous of both a man or a piece of fucking silicone in your entire life. you’d kill to have a real one right now, to feel satoru’s moist insides and the way he’d clench around you, sucking you in further and further until you were stuck balls deep in him. it’s fucking unfair.

“m–move, please.”, he begs in such a soft mewl. so needy, so impatient. so spoiled as you plunge your cock into him again.

a sharp gasp flees his lips, followed by satoru's strangled moan as you bury yourself to the hilt. there’s a prominent vein on the back of his hand from how tightly he grips the sheets, pillow, anything satoru can get his hands on.

though you move languidly, satoru quickly dissolves into an utter wreck. your hands hold tight onto his waist with initial intent to keep him steady, but his moans bring out a crazed animal in you. soon you're manhandling him back-and-forth to meet the ever-growing roughness of your thrusts. the sound of you pounding into him can't even be heard over the slutty noises tumbling out into the open air, hitting all four walls to fill the dorm room. it makes you ache, yearning for some relief other than the occasional friction of the harness against your clit.

"fuck, you're so hot.", you lean down and pant against his ear. satoru babbles something you can’t understand, and it makes you laugh. you can't help mock him a little.

"so loud, too.", comes the bratty taunt, and satoru whimpers out a barely coherent 'sorry'. god, he's so cute and pathetic. you feel like you're bullying him, corrupting your little nerd boyfriend, and it turns you on tenfold.

"aren't people living in the dorm next to you? they’re gonna be pissed.", you tease further, though never letting up on your thrusts and in fact picking up the pace. "these walls are pretty thin. suguru was here yesterday, did you get a noise complaint?"

"mhm."

that response catches you off guard—his audible confirmation along with a weak nod of the head.

"are you serious?" satoru nods again, and you let out an incredulous scoff. "damn, i was just kidding. i may have to go harder, then, i want them to know how well i treat you, too!"

it’s all gibberish in satoru's mind. with such scrambled thoughts, he can barely hold on to a thing you're saying, let alone worry about maintaining his now continuously waning status as a considerate neighbor.

"c'mere." your words sound muffled amongst the fog in his head. satoru strains his eyes and barely sees your blurry figure hovering over him. "pass me the pillow, babe."

he flails a feeble hand in the general direction of said object, finally landing on the soft cushion and using what—in his current state—feels like an absurd amount of strength in order to hand it back to you. a second later, he feels you tugging at his waist. “lift your hips up.” and, ever the helpful boyfriend, satoru uses every bit of remaining energy in his bones to raise his body.

"look at you, my good little loser." he feels you squeeze the pillow between him and the bed, and then goes limp again beneath you. his cock twitches at the soft pressure surrounding his length. it reminds him of a fleshlight, something you and suguru make sure he's extremely familiar with.

there's a 'smack!', and satoru whimpers at the sharp slap to one of his ass cheeks. you knead at the fat flesh in your hands, dulling the pain, and pull satoru’s ass apart to stare at the way his hole quivers and tightens around you.

"do you like being lazy?”, you tease. "letting me do most of the work?" he nods. "say it. tell me you’re my pretty little pillow princess.”

"i’m y–your pretty–, pretty pillow princess.", satoru moans with a cheek against the mattress, and lets out a feeble cry when you give his ass another loud smack.

"mmm, yeah." a sinister grin paints itself across your lips. your hands continue squeezing satoru’s sore ass in your palms, and your boyfriend groans in pleasure as you begin fucking into him again. "fuck, such a good toy for me."

you say something else, something he doesn’t hear, if not for satoru’s bedframe thudding against the wall, or the lewd slapping of skin on skin, then definitely because of his own moans echoing in his ears. there’s a short pause. satoru registers the dip of the mattress on each side of his head, and the blurry details of your manicure. the ticklish touch of your fingers brush against his forehead, moving locks of stark white hair to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

"my pretty boy.”

satoru whines at the praise before feeling the length of your cock rubbing against his prostate. it's calm at first, a frustratingly slow grind against his ass where he can feel the silicone balls of your strap up against his own. but soon you're picking up pace, slamming into him with each thrust, thrusts that send satoru flying forward every time you plunge deep into him again. every rock of your hips against his brushes satoru’s leaking cock harder and faster along the pillow under his body. it feels out of this world, and all too much to endure.

the heat and pleasure overrunning satoru has steadily evolved from a slow trickle, to growing waves, to a huge tsunami bearing down on him. his entire body is searing; he releases a particularly loud cry of your name as cum shoots straight into the fluff of the pillow, soaking deep inside the fabric as waves of pleasure flood over him. tears burn at his hazy, blue eyes, making it impossible to see clearly, but that doesn't matter when satoru's eyes are wrenched shut anyway as you slow to another grind against his ass, fucking him through his final orgasm.

satoru lies there, trembling and taking in heaving breathes of air. he lets out one last pathetic whimper when you pull out, leaving his hole tragically empty, but still accepts the press of a few soft kisses to his pink, tear-stained cheeks.

"satoru?", you whisper softly against his ear. “all good?” and you give him another kiss on the forehead when he gives a weak nod. "atta boy, you did so well. i'm going to get you a towel, 'kay?"

your boyfriend only makes a weak effort to grasp your hand, but you understand what he’s asking for, regardless. “fine, pretty boy. i’m right here, just relax and catch your breath for me.”

and, as usual, satoru follows your instructions without question. he is comforted by the gentle squeeze of your hand, the caress of your fingers through his hair, and the doting kisses you place on his shoulders, neck, and face. eventually, his brain is empty, drained. satoru begins dozing off to sleep in a far-away land—away from his room and away from homework, yet still surrounded by your soft, lingering presence.

🩵: @staryukis @lxnarphase @anthoosies @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @snowsilver2000 @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @giasssslife @babytoshiii @kissesfrombelle @v0ctin @purplegemadventures @luvvforliaa @apatuaia @sataraxia @leilalilox @sugu-love @manyno @the-monster-under-the-bed @blindbabycadder @xinfvl @jianyuu4mii @sherb3t @sugoroo @hellokittyish @satorvs @notdwenby @mamshousehusband @rubiesoferebor @andyramblingstuff @gojosbabyma @ravenbc @superkoolartist @nillosgarden

[satoruness]

The first thing you register upon waking is the absence of your daughter's usual early-morning babbling.

Your eyes snap open, heart hammering against your ribs as the lingering haze of sleep dissipates in an instant. You sit up so fast the blankets pool around your waist, cold air rushing over your skin as you frantically turn to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.

The sheets where Satoru sleeps are rumpled, but cool to the touch. He’s probably gone to work early, something he usually does. And, more importantly, your daughter is no where to be seen.

Panic claws up your throat. You had let her sleep with you last night—like always—because she insisted there was a monster under her bed. Satoru, ever the indulgent father, had only grinned and whispered conspiratorially that he sleeps better with her snuggled up beside him anyway. You had drifted off with their soft breaths keeping you warm, lulled by the comfort of their presence. 

You throw off the blankets and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your body still caught in the fight-or-flight response of a mother whose child has inexplicably vanished. Barefoot, you pad across the floor, pushing open the bedroom door with more force than necessary, only to be met with the distant sound of… clattering? A faint, rhythmic hum drifts through the hallway, accompanied by something softer—something sweet and familiar. Babbling.

Your breath catches, the knot of tension in your chest loosening slightly, though your body remains primed for action as you follow the sound. The scent of something warm and sugary fills the air as you descend the stairs, rounding the corner into the kitchen—and freezing in place.

There, standing by the counter, is Satoru.

Shirtless. Clad only in low-slung grey sweatpants that hang dangerously on his hips, revealing the deep V-lines cutting into his lower abdomen. His torso is all lean muscle and smooth, pale skin, marred only by faint scars from battles long past. His shoulders are broad, his chest well-defined, accompanied with a slim waist, and his muscular arms—one curled securely around your daughter, the other expertly flipping something on the stove—flex with effortless strength. His hair is a disheveled mess of white strands, falling boyishly over his forehead, but his expression is nothing short of pure, unabashed delight.

And then there’s your daughter. Perched on his hip like she belongs there, her tiny fingers gripping onto his shoulder for balance as she babbles away, utterly enraptured by whatever her father is saying. She has his snow-white hair and gleaming, cerulean eyes, the wispy strands of white hair sticking out in soft tufts, but her smile—it is all yours, bright and expressive. Her button nose, too, is unmistakably yours, scrunched up in concentration as she tries to mimic whatever absurd sounds Satoru is making at her.

You blink, trying to process the sight before you.

Your husband, half-naked, cooking breakfast with your daughter attached to him like a little koala.

“What the hell is going on?” The words leave you before you can stop them, still caught between confusion, awe, and the residual adrenaline of waking up to an empty bed.

Satoru turns at the sound of your voice, and the grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of devastating. “Good morning, birthday girl,” he coos, stepping toward you effortlessly, despite the toddler hanging off him. Before you can react, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips lingers, chasing away the last vestiges of your panic.

You blink up at him, still trying to recalibrate. “You—what—where was she?”

“Shhh, no need to stress, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing a soothing hand down your arm. “I wanted to let you sleep in for once, so we decided to make you a surprise breakfast.” He gestures proudly to the stove, where a stack of pancakes sits on a plate, alongside fresh fruit and a mug of coffee that you just know he made exactly the way you like it.

Your daughter, seemingly remembering her important role in this grand surprise, suddenly claps her tiny hands and chirps, “Hap-buh!”

You blink, eyes widening.

Satoru practically beams, his entire face lighting up as he nuzzles his nose against hers. “That’s right, princess! Say it again for Mama.”

She grins, delighted by the attention, and tries again. “Hap-buh-day!”

Your hands fly to your mouth, the last of your sleepiness vanishing as your heart swells to the point of bursting. “Did she—?”

“She did,” Satoru confirms smugly, bouncing her slightly on his hip. “I’ve been working on it all morning. She’s a genius, obviously. Takes after me.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the way your lips curve into a smile, the warmth of your little family wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Satoru murmurs, pressing another kiss—this time, to your lips. As your daughter babbles excitedly between you, white hair gleaming under the morning light, you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, this is the best birthday gift you could ever ask for.

As you reach for your coffee, Satoru’s hand catches yours, tugging you closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know,” he muses, voice dropping to a low murmur, “I was thinking we should make this a birthday tradition. I take care of breakfast, and you—” his lips graze the shell of your ear, “—take care of dessert. Get what I mean? It’s early in the morning but we can make time–”

You swat at his chest, but he only chuckles, thoroughly unrepentant. “Satoru—”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, grinning. “C’mon. It’ll be a really good birthday present. My head between your thighs, as usual, honestly it’d be a birthday treat for both of us–.”

“Keep talking, and you’ll be the one sleeping with the monster under the bed tonight.”

Satoru only laughs, bright and carefree, as your daughter babbles something incoherent, small hands trying to reach down from Satoru's hip to grab at the coloured assortment of fruit. And as you sip your coffee, shaking your head at your ridiculous husband, you can’t help but stop the warm feeling unfurling in your chest, that you love the family you two have both created.

[exquisink]

brief lactation kink , yandere geto because that’s all my brain is stuck on rn

what you have been taught about life and especially about men has been continually proven true to you about geto suguru. your best teaching comes from your family, who have shown you everything you must know about living the life you want to live.

the biggest, most important lesson?

men are fucking weak.

and not to mention, men are easy to fool.

that’s what your old man taught you first. the ones who behave the nastiest are the weakest, yet geto suguru parades around, running this fucking circus he calls a movement with his cult and thinking he’s this all powerful, wicked being. and maybe it’s true to his loyal devotees who kiss his feet or ass or whatever else they need to just to make him feel worshipped like some untouchable deity.

but not to you. you know better. you have always known better. he may have initially spat in your face and demeaned you for your lack of cursed energy, but you know what he desires beyond anything and that is a desire to, not to be worshipped, but to be loved, seen, heard—to be coddled and to be doted on and to be diapered or even fucking breastfed (and he has nursed off of you a handful of times, just like right now, greedily feasting on one of your breasts like his life depended on it) before he goes and acts as if he has the power to conquer the world with the strength to eradicate monkeys as he vows he will.

hah! what a fucking joke.

you might get off to the fact that you are his rock, his strength—someone he otherwise deems as nothing more significant than the earth he tramples on, someone he doesn’t acknowledge.

geto purrs your name as he noses into your neck after feeding off one of your breasts, refusing to give you the space to breathe, constricting you, entangled in the bed in the dead of night. his arms cage around your waist, and your eyes flutter as you meet his electrifying gaze.

what a pity, to have such beauty unmatched wasted on a man whose ego is as easily bruised as any other ‘common’ man.

you reach up to cup his cheek. a streak of moonlight creeping through the window illuminates the striking features of his face, his violet eyes shimmering with the affection he’s convinced himself he possesses for you.

fucking idiot, you want to scoff, but refrain.

“is that enough for tonight?” you ask, ignoring the urge to cringe as you peck his lips, ignoring that urge tenfold when he groans in approval. “i’m becoming weary, myself.”

“i could take more,” he mumbles, as his head dips, tongue grazing the nipple he's just fed on. “but i’ll let you sleep.”

nurture him.

and he worships the ground you walk on more than his devotees worship the ground he walks on.

"my sweet suguru," you coo with feigned affection, and he hums, snuggling you even closer than you already were, burying his head between your breasts and sighing with delight. "my perfect suguru."

so far from perfect but it gives him what he wants.

[wainawtmai]

18+!, yandere!satoru, dark themes, somnophilia

i love the duality in yandere!satoru

to you, he’s nothing but smiles and playful snark, attempting to charm you with a flash of those baby blues and a hushed flirt from his pretty pink lips. but you’d shrugged off all of his attempts, perceiving them as just jokes.

but to anyone he’d seen even remotely interested in you, he became more of the overpowered monster that the higher ups couldn't contain. There was still a chilling smile on his lips when he hunted them down, his face shrouded by darkness, blue eyes aglow as he slaughtered each and every person who dared to touch and covet what was his.

you were none the wiser, lamenting to him with a sigh that none of your dates seemed to stick. Satoru gave that pretty little smirk, telling you that maybe you should just give up. Despite the fact that he couldn't stop picturing their tortured faces and screams of agony. The way their flesh seemed to easily cave away beneath his hands as their blood splattered across his pristine skin.

sometimes you felt like you could feel the chill of an icy gaze whenever you changed within your bedroom, shuffling quickly to the open window and shutting it with a shiver, knowing there were tons of creeps and pervs around town that were probably waiting hungrily for you to take your clothes off.

little did you know that one of those creeps was your closest friend, who waited for you to fall asleep and watched you, brushing fingers across your bare skin, relishing goosebumps rising on the supple flesh. blue eyes glaring at you ravenously as he stripped back your covers to reveal your half naked body, your breasts barely confined by the flimsiness of your t-shirt, and never any underwear.

he liked to fantasize that maybe you knew he watched you nightly and wanted to put on a show. He imagined sinking into your wet heat, he could do it now, your pussy bare and just begging to be filled. He wanted to so badly but more than that he wanted you to be awake for when it did happen, needed you to watch as he buried his cock inside of you.

for now, he'd fist his cock over your plush lips, splattering his cum across your sleeping face with a whimper, then using his blushing red cock head to smear his cum across your mouth, and nearly coming again to the sight of his seed splattered across the soft skin of your face. He’d made such a mess out of you. 

he always tried cleaning you up the best he could, but you still wake up in the morning with the taste of him on your lips. You're too delirious with exhaustion to question it or your missing underwear. There were so many more important things you had to worry about.

other nights he stood over you until you stirred and woke up, startled by his blue eyed silhouette looming over you. you screamed and scrambled for your lamp light—but your room was empty. satoru watched the panic overtake your face as you struggled to fall asleep, rutting into your underwear to a quick finish at the sight of your quaking eyes and the way you buried yourself under your covers, wracked with paranoia.

on those nights you dream of lingering blue eyes and a shadow coming at you with bloody hands. you anxiously recount the night to him, his eyebrows furrowing with sympathy as he places a hand on yours.

a part of you suspects him, those startling blue eyes somewhat reminded you of him. But then he smiles at you, places a hand over yours, and tells you everything will be alright. And all of a sudden your doubts of him dissipate. They're replaced with a slight guilt at suspecting one of your closest friends of something so heinous. He would never do that to you.

right?

[tojilicious]

PAPA - PAPARAZZI !

pairing : gojo satoru x reader

synopsis : you're not sure how it started—but satoru loves to film you getting off on his fingers. what once started as a blue moon ordeal has blossomed into an every week ordeal, but you're not complaining! afterall, it's for satoru's eyes only .... right?

contents : perverted bf gojo satoru!! mentions of his bestie, suguru :3. lewd photography, lewd filmography, voyeurįsm, exhįbitionism, fįngering (f receiving), clįt stįmulation, gspot stįmulation, dirty talking, teasing, squįrtįng, satoru is a little slimy, nonconsensual sharing of video (with suguru!!!)

word count : 1,586.

it's not unusual for satoru to push you, his precious girl, onto your back━your legs obediently and generously spreading to make space that he wastes no time claiming.

he's between your thighs now, gracing your body with featherlight touches; your tummy flexing when fingertips ghost along your bare skin and hips bucking when his warm exhales spread over your nude thighs.

it's also not unusual for your stomach to stir when you hear his voice from down there, all too eager to make a promise to you; the same promise he'll make you every time he's got you in this position.

"if you relax and be good for me, i'll make you feel sooo good, 'kay, cutie?—i promise!" he chirps in a sickly sweet tone all while you feel him shifting ever so slightly, back and forth wiggles that you know the meaning of all too well.

he's getting his phone out.

you're not sure how it started, but what used to be a once in a blue moon type of ordeal transformed into something the two of you did often. satoru will lay on his stomach, nestling between your limbs and pointing his phone's camera right at your panty clad slit in order to play paparazzi!

all the times you lay perfectly compliant for him, plump mound covered by the cutest panties he's ever laid eyes on? photographed.

all the times your body would begin to twitch with impatience—pretty begs and wiggling hips pleading for his touch? filmed.

there's times where it almost feels excessive—like satoru needs to be filling up the hidden album of his photo gallery with that darling place of yours all the time.

but it's not his fault! you're just too irresistible!

how can he resist the need to whip his phone out and photograph your pudgy and fat lips when they're making a perfect and solid outline through the thin fabric of your panties? ♡ and sometimes, depending on how tight your panties are; he'll even see the shape of your pretty little nub's hood poking from between the top of your lips!

oh! it's just begging for his attention!

"oohh—baby." he'd coo, zooming in to focus on the tiny twitches your clit makes just from hearing his voice, "d'you need something from me?" he'd ask.

and when you give a measly nod of your head off camera—how can satoru not give in?

how can he resist the need to film the way your hips buck from him, for him? the pad of his thumb draws feather light circles onto your panty covered clit and as soon as your noises begin to vary in volume, so does the pressure of his thumb. from soft to firm, from firm to firmer—he repeats it over and over again until a damp and dark patch is forming on the crotch of your underwear.

it's not long after that that your panties are yanked to the side and his middle and pointer finger are sliding halfway into your cunt, his ears as well as the phone's microphone relishing in the sopping squelches your hole makes.

"nghhh- 'toru.." you mewl when his fingers are already knowingly ghosting over your g-spot.

"hm?" satoru hums, eyes flicking up from his phone to glance at your scrunched up face.

"y'think i'm living up to my promise, baby?" satoru's voice is so sweet despite the nature of the promise, digits parting to scissor inside your cunt.

it's so cute when you sob out, nodding your head with haste in response to his question right as your hole squeezes on his fingers like a vice. it's like your body is granting him the confirmation he's searching for; reaffirming that your nodding head is nothing but the truth.

the more reactions satoru can wring out of you, the fuzzier and dirtier his brain is becoming. your cunt is so unbearably hot around his fingers and the noises you're making are just too cute.

"you're making such a mess, cutie—fuck." satoru groans, heel of his palm opting to rub against your pulsating clit.

the stimulation has your hole spasming and drooling out more slick, satoru's absent hand pinching his phone screen in order to zoom in and capture each glob of essence that leaves his fingers glistening even more.

fuck, you feel so unbearably hot around his fingers and every time he tries to pull his fingers away—you're sucking him right back in and begging him to stay. the combination of your moans, the squleches of your cunt, and the fact that he can feel the pulses of your slick ridden walls is making his brain melt.

he needs to see more, he needs to make this his best video yet—and in a daze of hot arousal that's flooding his brain, his lips speak and the words he release shake you to your core.

"wha'dya think suguru would say if he saw you like this, baby?" the way satoru sighs his best friend's name whilst fingering you like it's a normal thing he does has your hips bucking before breaking into stutters.

glazed over eyes widen and you squeak out a choked little "'toru!" in shock as clammy hands grab onto your bedsheets for some form of grounding.

your reactions go far from unnoticed and satoru can feel his mouth salivate. he mentions suguru for the first time during such a lewd act such as this.. and instead of reprimanding him for mentioning his best friend—you're tightening around him? did you like that?

"did—did'you really get tighter from me talking about my best friend?" satoru asks and even though you can't see him, you can still hear the smirk in his voice despite the way he's trying to frame his question as disbelief.

"do you want suguru to see you like this?" his palm focuses more on your clit, circling the little bud as you mewl out a weak 'no' that satoru thinks—no, that he knows is far from the truth.

and he knows it's far from the truth because yet again, you're clenching the moment you hear his best friend's name. not only that; your cunt is starting to pulse and you're grinding into his palm with fever now.

"toru—toru.." your whine comes out as if you're warning him, "m'close.."

"yeah?" he murmurs and he presses his palm right into your sensitive bud, fingers now devilishly hooking right against your gspot and prodding with a mean pressure.

"don't tell me you're gonna cum .. y'gonna show the camera how you cum for me? or.." and as he leaves his sentence hanging as you're mewling different forms and pitches of the word 'yes', he adds on to his words.

"you gonna show sugie how you cum, baby?" and with a perfectly timed tap against your gspot and circle rubbed onto your clit; the tightening coil in your lower tummy snaps and you shriek in a way that satoru's never heard before.

"cummin', toru!" your brows scrunch together and your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers that now work to aid you through your orgasm, wave by wave.

your tummy flexes as clear liquid dribbles out onto his hand, hips bucking and jerking with each generous burst of euphoria that spreads throughout your body.

"'toru—fuck, it's good,it's good!" mewls and cries spill from your lips as you ride his fingers and buck into his palm, tears frosting your glazed eyes.

your knuckles may stay white permanently from how hard you're grabbing the sheets, riding his hand before letting out a harsh exhale before ultimately falling against the bed.

and even as you breathe deeply, limp body melting onto the bed—your hips can't help but jerk as his fingers slowly slide out, his thumb teasingly brushing up against your overstimulated clit to spread your squirt.

a whimper leaves your throat and the retreating beep of satoru hitting the stop recording button is all you hear with your recollecting breaths.

"you okay, cutie?" satoru murmurs as he idles between your thighs, eyes locked onto his phone and forwarding through the video to make sure the angles were perfect.

"mhmmm.." you softly hum and as you weakly get onto your elbows in order to look at him, you can't help but ask—

"'toru... you—suguru isn't gonna see anything, right?"

the way you ask is so sweet that his studying eyes break from the screen to connect with you. a second passes and a reassuring smile is spreading onto his lips and the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, "'course not. just for me, cutie. all for me."

and of course, you return his smile and sigh in response to express your relief before you're letting your back hit against the bed.

"you think i'll be a good addition to your library?" you tiredly ask, rubbing your eyes before letting out an exhausted yawn.

"mm—definitely, cutie. you did so good!" satoru gently praised you, giving you a glance before bringing attention back to his phone. "thanks for letting me be your paparazzi, baby."

you relaxing was for the best—as it gave satoru the perfect opportunity to open up his message conversation with suguru, attach the video and hit send.

it's almost immediately after sending that that a chat bubble appears on suguru's side of the conversation and satoru's smile grows wider.

satoru loves being your paparazzi so much so that he'll do exactly what a paparazzi does. he'll take the photos and videos and send them over to someone who will enjoy them.

[yemmuis]

★ choso doesn’t have any self control during sex. he doesn’t know—or doesn’t care—about his limits; he hasn’t even been fucking you for that long, but his control is already slipping. he doesn’t stop when he’s overstimulated, and god forbid he ever take a break before you’ve finished twice. he doesn’t even realize its insane for a man to have such a high sex drive. doesn’t care that he’s “not supposed to finish before his partner”, because why would he wait to finish when he can keep going until he can’t anymore?

“hic—f-fuck,” chosos panting into your ear, his dick twitching as he comes down from his second orgasm of the night. he barely takes the time to pull out, wrap a trembling hand around himself and give a few laborious strokes before he’s thrusting shakily back into you.

he doesn’t know its fucking crazy that he can cum three times and still be hard enough to keep going. or that how fast he can make you cum with just his fingers (five minutes on a bad day) is the most stellar performance you’ve ever had from a man. and maybe your past lovers just weren’t putting in the effort, but choso certainly does.

“can i please keep going?” he whines, his head dropping down to the back of your shoulder as he keeps you bent over the side of your mattress. he doesn’t know how he’s still standing, but he’s leaning onto your back and his legs are trembling. you nod almost absently, face hidden in the blankets and pillows of your bed while choso is barely holding on behind you; his hips twitch, and he finally manages to catch his breath long enough to brace himself on the mattress by your shoulder. “fuck, my legs hurt.” he mutters to himself, giving an experimental thrust before he’s back to his usual pace and bottoming out with every snap of his hips into your ass. “you feel so good. can’t believe i had to wait a week to do this again.” choso hiccups, and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying in the hot, sticky pleasure filling his brain like honey until he feels his tears dripping down onto your shoulder. “jeez, sorry,” he gasps out, pretty moans slipping from his lips every time his hips meet yours. its an empty apology; he can’t bring himself to care about crying when you feel so good and he can hear you moaning underneath him. he can feel yet another orgasm building, heat pooling in his belly and crackling up his spine as he fucks into you.

“oh—my.” his speech is slurred, stuttering, and his dick is twitching with every mean thrust that rearranges your insides. he’s already so close and he’s barely been at it for five minutes—what round is this? neither of you can remember. he doesn’t remember how many times he’s orgasmed anymore, but he’s fairly certain you’ve already finished at least once or twice, right? you’re still shaking with the aftermath of something, whether thats his grueling pace or climax, he doesn’t know.

“baby,” choso pants out, his free hand settling on your waist and squeezing. “you ‘member how many times y’ve cum t’night…?” his words are barely legible, and he can’t really hear if you respond or not…the best course of action is just to keep going until he’s sure you’ve finished, he guesses. theres heat coiling in your belly, making every thrust feel like fireworks behind your eyes as you stutter out a ‘no’. everything is aching and throbbing and he’s fairly certain he can’t feel his fingers anymore, but that doesn’t really matter as long as he can make you cum. he fumbles for a moment with his trembling hands, trying to keep up the pace of his thrusts that are quickly turning shaky and erratic.

“ch-cho,” you choke on his name, fingers clawing at the sheets as he presses lingering kisses over your shoulder blades. any way to distract himself from his orgasm looming too close for his liking. he pauses to readjust his hands, his breathing labored against your back as he gives a particularly good thrust that rummages into your insides. “‘m i supposed to stop?” choso mumbles, kissing the round of your shoulder as one of his trembling hands grabs your hip firmly. you don’t quite process what he said, barely conscious after how many orgasms he’s easily pulled from you, and the umpteenth one burning at the base of your spine. choso sighs as though he’s being told to do a chore, his forehead landing against the nape of your neck as he angles his hips perfectly into yours and his dick twitches. was that him cumming? he doesn’t know—he’s been overstimulated for at least an hour now, but that doesn’t matter. what matters to choso is feeling your pussy fluttering around him, and listening to the choked moans spilling from your lips as he urges yet another climax from you. your vision goes white, and with one last thrust against your g-spot, your orgasm crashes over you in a honeyed wave as choso squeezes your hips and kisses down your back.

he pulls out sluggishly once you finish trembling, trailing kisses down your spine again while his cum is practically oozing out of you. “are you—hey.” choso huffs, his mouth open against your back as he gently smacks your hip. “i gotta stop.” he stumbles over the syllables, closing his eyes and pretty brows furrowing. “sorry…gimme a sec.” he whines. you can feel him reluctantly clamber off of you, hauling your limp body up against his chest as he flops onto his back on your bed. you shift slightly, trying to get comfortable and ignore the deep aching in your thighs and the way your body trembles against his.

choso grumbles softly, making a small sound as he dragged his fingers through your hair and peered lazily down at you. he scrubs at his eyes, still red-rimmed and dilated from tears and sex.

“hey.”

“…what?”

“…i wanna go again.”

tags :: @gojoscinnamonroll @beanietopia @webism @valicalliali

a/n :: hii thank you for reading ! ive had this in my drafts for soo long and i just now finished it 😛 more choso to come i fink

[ryiju-muunie]

ANON—Do you do male readers? If not that’s fine, how about the One Piece boys fucking the reader senseless and then taking a picture of their dazed out self?

“O-Oh God..” You moaned gutterally, your head hanging forward against the bed. Spit and drool hung from your mouth, dripping from your chin and the tip of your tongue. It hung out past your lips and touched the mattress with every thrust.

You lost count of how many times your boyfriend fucked you. You lost count as your anus stretched to accommodate his fat fucking length and his spend that filled you up more than you could bear. You were in pain, writing with pleasure as your boyfriend used you like a fleshlight.

Your cock was pressed against your stomach, twitching and throbbing with every pass. It hurt. It fucking hurt. It hurt in the way that was addicting and pleasurable that made your slit swell and ache for just one more orgasm. One more orgasm and you’d be done. But after you came, he continued to thrust.

It was a painful cycle you couldn’t help but love. Like the whore you were you arched your back. You ground back against his length to meet his hips. They snapped against your skin. They rubbed against you like a fire being grated against nothing. It was hot and slippery, squelching with every stretch of your pathetic hole.

“A.. A-Ah~ I..I’m gon.. gon.. g-gonna.. fuuckkk..” Your hands balled up against the bed and dug deep into the bedding. You tried to stabilize yourself from the impending rush but, God, the intensity took over.

It was a rush of white pleasure through your urethra and down the side of your legs. It stung like a slap through your whole body— through your mind. You shuddered and felt yourself cum.

At that point, it was hard to tell if you were cuming or orgasming against nothing. You couldn’t tell if the pool of spend you writhed in was new or something you had been getting fucked in for the past hour. It was hard to see, hard to breathe, hard to gasp in pleasure as your back arched to the sensation.

Your boyfriend pulled out when you finished for the final time. You let out a small cry and whined at the loss of sensation, at being so empty.

“Fucking whore..” You could hear the grin drip off his voice as he grabbed your ass. He kneaded the skin in both hands just to hear the whimper and groan escape your lips.

“Be nice..” You keened, turning your head to gaze up at him. He was gorgeous. Hair slicked to his forehead in sweat and body glistening from his desire. You could see his movements become shaky as you stared at him, and he smiled.

“Smile for me baby,” he pulled out his camera and smacked your behind, causing you to bite your lip and let out a noise that sounded too naughty. You whined and pressed against the mattress for a moment.

Your boyfriend grabbed your hair and pulled you back, “A-Ah~” Your mouth hung open and you saw the flash from his back camera. And you smiled.

Strawpage | Bluesky

[yujibooty]

TW; somnophilia NOT proof read

࿐ Running his hands through his hair he finally gives into his desires. Standing infront of your bed, Yuji knows he can’t back out now. No matter how fucked up he is. He can’t help it. He’s been aching for you :(

Lifting the covers slightly, he watches your expression. Good thing you were a heavy sleeper. Laying on your stomach, your baggy T-shirt covered most of your torso, and just a bit of your ass. Your pussy sucking in the fabric of your panties. He couldn’t see much more due to you unconsciously squeezing your thighs together but he didn’t mind.

A soft smile on his face, Yuji crawls onto the bed, it creaking under his weight. He stops when he’s right above your peaceful figure. He tells himself he’ll do it for a few minutes then let you get your rest. His pants feels so tight against his crouch he feels like he might explode. Hesitant and worried he’d wake you, he slowly pushes his hips until he feels your butt against him. Gasping softly at the contact, his dick twitches in his pants.

He immediately starts creating friction, his breath hitching like a puppy humping a leg.

“Mmphh..ha”

He squeezes his eyes as he rubs, his head leaning back. The burning ache in his pants can’t take it. He immediately starts unbuckling his pants, pulling them far enough down to move his boxers out of the way aswell. Whipping his length out he resumes what he started. Rubbing his sticky tip just over your lips and hole. His precum making your panty fabric nearly see through.

“Mmghh please, please let me cum”

You make small noises but you don’t budge or even react. His movements making the bed creak. Gosh he needs you so bad :( He subconsciously lets his body lay completely on top of yours, nuzzling his nose into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist to get a better grip.

“I’m- mnnph! Sorry- so sorry”

Drool slowly oozing from the corner of his mouth, he mumbles and whines nonsense into your neck. Your panties completely ruined and drenched, his thrust start pushing the fabric off your pussy, his red tip slipping right into your tight entrance intentionally. He cries out at the unexpected pleasure, your wet tight space catching him completely off guard :( he didn’t mean to.

“I- s-sorry sorry..!”

Completely lost of control, he humps you senseless, his voice cracks and high pitched whines and moans filling the room.

“Fuck- fuck no no no..!”

Snapping out of his trance he realizes he’s close. He tries to sit up so he wouldn’t get cum on you but he was too late :( his cock spilling with white ropes, and onto your butt and T-shirt.

Shivering and still processing his orgasm, he still can’t seem to ignore the ache in his dick. Desperate and pathetic, Yuji flips you over onto your back. You slightly wake up yet he’s so distracted he doesn’t notice.

Trying to adjusts your eyes to what’s hovering over you, you feel something warm, and wide pushing apart your wet, soft lips.

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Cruelty of Time

Nanami Kento x F!Reader, Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader

Summary: Nanami/Gojo/Sukuna always know when something is wrong. He gives you space. He waits. But patience only lasts so long when the woman he adores refuses to speak. If words won’t do, he has other ways of making you talk. (All men get their separate parts & have different readers, but the plot is connected, so it's recommended to read all.) Trigger Warnings: Fluff & SMUT (MDNI), Porn with feelings (because he cares), Four-Armed True Form Sukuna, Someone taps out mid-sexy time, Mirror show-off moment, Enthusiastic consent, Sukuna’s a menace, not a villain, Someone is possessive but in a feminist way, Sexy age crisis, Slow descent into madness (yours, not his), Nanami is the firmest soft dom, Gojo is fleeing for his life, Canon-typical patience, canon-untypical restraint, You won’t talk? They have other methods, Nanami & Gojo are problems, Gojo & Sukuna are societal threats. Kinks: Praise, Choking, Voice, Spanking, Manhandling (effective, controlled, ruining-you edition), A/N: Listen. There are two types of people in this world: 1. People who read JJK men's fics because they appreciate the depth of the character. 2. People who read JJK men's fics because they want to be handled. This fic is for the latter. As always, the reader can be hallucinated as any race or body type, no explicit descriptions have been used, but all men have different readers, and no, you are not allowed to double time them. I, too, am just a girl, standing in front of a fictional salaryman, begging him to fix me with violent backshots. Enjoy responsibly. Or don’t. I support all life choices here.

Nanami Kento x F!Reader

The sound of the front door clicking shut was soft, barely disrupting the quiet hum of the kitchen. But Nanami noticed immediately.

He didn’t look up right away, finishing the precise cut of the knife against the cutting board before setting it aside. The scent of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air, warm and inviting.

Yet, something felt off.

You hadn’t come running to him like you usually did.

He wiped his hands on a towel, finally turning toward the entrance.

Standing in the doorway, your shoulders slightly hunched, the usual brightness in your gaze absent. You didn’t even remove your shoes right away, just lingered there, fingers toying with the strap of your bag.

Nanami set the towel down.

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice steady, but his sharp gaze didn’t miss the way you avoided his eyes. “Is something wrong?”  

You hesitated for just a second—so quick an average person wouldn’t have caught it—before forcing a small, practiced smile. “No, it’s nothing. Just… a long day.”

A deflection.  

Nanami exhaled silently, slow and measured, before stepping toward you. His presence was grounding, solid, and when he reached out to cup your face, his touch was warm, his thumbs grazing your cheeks with quiet insistence.  

“Tell me.”  

Your lips parted, and for a moment, he thought you might actually say it.

But then you shook your head, slipping from his grasp with a tired laugh. “It’s nothing, really.”  

Nanami didn’t believe that for a second. He knew you too well.

But he let you go—for now.  

However, Nanami Kento was nothing if not patient.

He watched you carefully.

During dinner, he served your plate first. When you barely picked at the food, he refilled your miso soup, watching for any reaction.

You still wouldn’t talk.  

On the couch, he pulled you against him, resting a hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. Your body melted into his, but you were quiet, too quiet.  

Fine. If you weren’t going to tell him, he’d make you.  

Nanami played his last card when you were pinned beneath him, his body braced above yours, his eyes searching yours with quiet, unwavering intensity. The weight of him was grounding, solid, leaving no room to escape. His fingers traced up your arm, slow, deliberate.  

You cracked.  

“A 14-year-old called me ‘aunt’ today.” Your voice wavered, as if the confession itself made the words more real. You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “Kento, am I… old?”  

Nanami stared at you, processing your words. 

Then, to your utter horror, he chuckled—a deep, quiet sound, barely more than a breath but unmistakable. “That’s what’s been bothering you?”

Your mouth fell open.  

You slapped his chest, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he murmured, and that rare, faint smile of his appeared, brief but devastating.  

You groaned, cheeks heating. “You’re terrible.”

“Hardly,” he said, voice still laced with amusement, but his expression was already shifting, darkening. His fingers traced a slow line down your side, over the curve of your waist, before gripping your hip in a way that made heat pool low in your belly. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.  

“If you really need a reminder of how desirable you are, I can oblige.”  

The change in the air was instant.  

Before you could fully process what was happening, Nanami flipped you onto your stomach. The movement was smooth, practiced, possessive. 

A gasp escaped your lips, your pulse spiking as he pressed his weight against your back, his breath ghosting over your ear.  

“Take off your clothes.”  

His voice was calm—but absolute.  

A shiver ran down your spine, anticipation coiling hot in your stomach. Your fingers trembled slightly as you fumbled with the button and zipper of your pants. He didn’t help—not at first. He just watched, letting the tension build, his fingers grazing over your wrists as if testing your obedience.  

When you finally rid yourself of them, he took over. His hands—broad, warm, possessive—skimmed down your thighs, taking his time. Then, with no warning, he smacked your ass—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you jolt.  

Your breath hitched.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Now stay just like that.”  

Nanami never rushed.  

And tonight would be no exception.  

His touch was deliberate, exploring every inch of you, his fingertips mapping out the places he already knew by heart. He traced the curve of your spine, following it with his lips, leaving a path of heat that made your stomach tighten.  

Then his hands found your breasts, locking them firmly in his broad forearms. The warmth of his palms, the slow drag of his fingers over sensitive skin—it was intoxicating.  

You arched instinctively, but his grip only tightened.  

“Stay still,” he murmured. His voice was low, gravelly, commanding. A quiet promise of what was to come.  

A sharp contrast to the way he leaned down, pressing his chest against your back, his body so warm, so solid behind you. The heat of his skin bled through the thin fabric of his unbuttoned shirt. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, his breath slow and controlled, sending another shiver down your spine.  

“You’re so beautiful like this.” His voice was husky, confident. “All spread out for me.” 

There was a smirk in his tone, but beneath it—something darker. Something that made your stomach coil tight with anticipation.  

His hands slid lower, tracing the dips and curves of your body, learning you all over again.

He was taking his time, savoring the moment, building the tension until you were left trembling beneath him, aching, waiting, wanting.

And Nanami Kento never left you wanting for long.

His fingers trail between your thighs, slow, deliberate, teasing the sensitive skin there. The warmth of his touch lingers, each stroke purposeful as he explores the softness of your inner thighs, coaxing shivers from your skin.

Then—contact. A jolt of pleasure snaps through you as Nanami's fingers find your slick folds. He starts gentle, the press of his fingertips measured, exploratory, before circling your clit with practiced precision. His strokes grow more confident, more insistent, like he's testing how much you can take before you unravel.

“K… Ken…” Your breath shudders as you moan his name, eyes fluttering shut when he pushes a finger inside you, slow. The stretch is just enough to make your thighs clench, your body arching into his touch.

His lips brush your ear, his voice a low murmur laced with quiet control. "You're so wet… so ready for me."

You don’t know if it’s ovulation or if he’s using his technique, but your body responds like you’ve been set alight. The heat is unbearable, a raw, urgent need that coils tight in your core. By the time he adds a third finger, you're trembling, barely able to keep yourself upright.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, his tone rough with restraint. "Let go. Let me make you feel good."

His fingers move faster, precise and unrelenting, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. His other hand finds your chest, rolling and flicking your nipple between his fingers, sending sparks of sensation straight to where you need him most. His mouth follows, lips dragging over your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, marking you as his. His soft blond hair falls over his forehead, half-shielding the dark intensity of his gaze.

The world beyond him dissolves. There's only his touch, his voice, the deep, aching need he ignites in you. And then—you're falling. Your body tightens, pleasure cresting and breaking in waves so powerful they leave you shaking.

Nanami doesn’t stop. He rides out your high, drawing every last pulse from your body until you slump forward, spent. But you barely have time to catch your breath before his fingers start moving again, slow but purposeful, building you up all over again.

This time, it's brutal—your second orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body wrung dry from the intensity of it. Your moan is near-silent, choked by the sheer force of pleasure as you convulse around his fingers.

His arms wrap around you before you can collapse completely, holding you firm against his chest, his voice a quiet, reverent murmur. "You're so beautiful when you come." His hands slide up your trembling form before he tilts your chin, forcing your gaze toward the large mirror in front of you. "Look."

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see yourself—your skin flushed, lips swollen, body still trembling from his touch. And behind you, Nanami watches with dark, unreadable eyes, his presence imposing even in his quiet control.

“I could watch you all day.” He smirks against your skin.

The sharp click of his belt unbuckling cuts through the heavy silence. Your breath hitches. He moves unhurriedly, the rustle of fabric deliberate, almost taunting. Every sound, every movement is calculated restraint, meant to drive you mad with anticipation.

And then—you feel him. Hard and insistent against your hips, the heat of him searing even before he presses against your entrance.

His hands grip your hips, firm, grounding. The weight of his body blankets you, keeping you caged, controlled. The blunt pressure of his tip has your breath catching in your throat. He doesn’t push in—he waits.

"Tell me you want this," he murmurs, voice dark, edged with command.

Your fingers dig into the couch armrest, knuckles white. "I want it," you breathe, trembling. "I want you, Kento."

That’s all he needs.

His hips roll forward, pushing into you with devastating slowness. The stretch is exquisite—just shy of overwhelming—but you take it, back arching as you adjust to the fullness of him.

Nanami groans, deep and guttural, his hands tightening on your hips as he sinks in fully. "So tight," he mutters, voice strained. "Like I don’t stretch you open every night."

His first thrust is measured, testing, but the next is harder, dragging a sharp gasp from your lips. His hands slide up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades as he leans over you, chest pressing flush against your back. When his lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your spine, he bites down, leaving a mark that has you gasping his name.

"Kento," you cry, voice breaking as he angles deeper, hitting that spot that makes you see white. "Please—"

“Please what?” he asked, his voice a low rumble against your ear. He knew exactly what he was doing, his thrusts becoming more purposeful, each one driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me.”

“Faster,” you begged, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch. “Harder.”

He obliged without hesitation. One hand fisted in your hair, the other pressing between your shoulder blades, shoving your face into the couch cushions as his pace turned brutal. The force of his thrusts sent shocks of pleasure rippling through you, each movement deliberate, punishing, like he was staking his claim all over again.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, obscene and rhythmic, punctuated by the ragged gasps you barely managed to choke out and the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His hands slid back to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fucked you like he needed you to break for him.

Then the angle shifted—deep, perfect—and the pleasure was blinding. You cried out, body convulsing as he found that devastating spot inside you, his pace relentless.

“You feel that?” His voice was thick with control, rough with need. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit with ruthless precision, making your legs quake. His free hand slid up, wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back just enough for his lips to graze the shell of your ear.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice dark, velvety, commanding. “Let go for me.”

You couldn’t hold back if you tried. The pleasure coiled and snapped, tearing through you with a force that left you boneless. Your body clenched tight around him, pulling him deeper, and the curse of a man above you groaned, his rhythm faltering for half a second before he recovered, his grip tightening, dragging you through every last pulse of your orgasm.

But he wasn’t done.

He set a relentless pace, his thrusts deep, deliberate, designed to unravel you. You were lost to sensation, barely able to form words. Every nerve in your body burned with overstimulation, but Nanami was merciless, pushing you higher and higher, refusing to let you fall too soon.

“Kento—” Your voice broke, a plea tangled in your breathless moans. “I—I can’t—”

“You can.” His growl rumbled through you, dark and certain. “And you will.”

His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you back to meet each thrust. You sobbed his name, your body trembling as he dragged you to the edge over and over, refusing to let you fall until he decided you were ready. The pleasure was unbearable, exquisite, a slow, torturous build that left you on the brink of madness.

Then, finally—he let you break.

You shattered, your body seizing around him as another orgasm crashed through you, this one harder, more intense, leaving you trembling, gasping, undone.

Nanami wasn’t far behind.

His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, more desperate as he chased his own release. His breath turned ragged, his grip bruising as he buried himself to the hilt, a guttural groan spilling from his lips as he spilled inside you, the heat of it sending another shudder through your already-wrecked body.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Then, slowly, Nanami leaned over you, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips warm, reverent.

He pulled out, a sharp exhale leaving him as he collapsed beside you, gathering you against his chest before you could even think to move. His arms locked around you, his presence solid, grounding. Against your back, you felt the steady thud of his heartbeat, slow, measured, as if he had all the time in the world to hold you.

“You’re not old,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “And you’re certainly not an ‘aunt.’” He tilted your chin, making sure you were looking at him. “You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.” His fingers brushed over your cheek, his touch achingly gentle compared to the way he’d just wrecked you. “Don’t ever forget that.”

A sleepy, satisfied smile tugged at your lips. “You’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

“Maybe.” His lips twitched into that rare, fleeting smile—the one only you ever got to see. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, utterly spent, you couldn’t help but think—maybe, just maybe, being called ‘aunt’ wasn’t so bad after all. Not when Nanami Kento was there to remind you exactly how wanted, how completely his you really were.

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

The front door clicked shut. Soft, nearly imperceptible under the hum of the TV and the distant rustling of Gojo Satoru digging through the pantry like a gremlin.

But he noticed immediately.

Not because he had superhuman reflexes (though, yeah, he did), but because you didn’t call out to him.

Usually, you’d beeline straight for him, drape yourself across the couch with a dramatic groan, and demand cuddles or snacks—sometimes both, depending on the severity of the day’s atrocities. But today?

You just stood there, fingers toying with the strap of your bag, expression unreadable.

Gojo poked his head out from the kitchen, a bag of chips in one hand and a smug grin already forming. “Baaaaabe,” he drawled. “Did you know that if you stare into the void long enough, it starts staring back?”

Nothing.

No laugh, no eye roll. Not even a scoff.

His grin faltered. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said immediately. Too immediately.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspicious. That’s weird.”

You huffed, kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary. “I’m fine, Satoru.”

“You’re lying.” He was on you in an instant, looming at full height, his ridiculous socks skidding across the floor as he stopped right in your path. “I always know when something’s wrong.”

He bent forward, tilting his head to meet your eyes. His infinity wasn’t even on, but it still felt like there was no space between you. Just him—his scent, his warmth, the weight of his attention, all-consuming.

“Tell me.”

You pushed past him. “No.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like you’d shot him. “What do you mean ‘no’?! I’m your husband! Your best friend! Your confidant, your one true love, your designated carrier of heavy objects—”

“I said it’s nothing,” you repeated, brushing past him to drop your bag onto the couch.

Gojo flopped down beside you, head immediately landing on your lap, limbs sprawling like a crime scene outline. “Fine,” he said, draping an arm across his face. “I’ll just die then.”

You ignored him.

For the next hour, he tried everything.

Subtle tactics (brushing your hair back, murmuring “soft little baby, tell me” in that unbearably sweet voice).

Not-so-subtle tactics (poking your cheek repeatedly until you looked at him).

Absolute war crimes (pulling out his phone and putting on the loudest, most obnoxious COD edits, even though he hated when you watched those).

But you were a fortress, a damn vault, giving him nothing but the occasional glare.

That was fine. Gojo loved a challenge.

He ramped it up—followed you to the kitchen, caging you against the counter with his arms. Then to the bedroom, sprawled across the bed, legs kicking like a toddler. Then the bathroom, where he straight-up sat on the floor outside the door.

“Y’know,” he said through the wood. “Consumerism has ruined women’s self-confidence. It’s criminal. Devastating. Society has—”

“Satoru, I swear to God—”

“Six-foot-three, by the way.”

You whipped open the door and smacked him with a towel.

“Hey!” he laughed, shielding himself. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes!”

And still, he persisted.

It wasn’t until he had you pinned against the bed, his weight pressing down, his hands bracing on either side of your head, that you finally cracked.

“A kid called me auntie today.”

Gojo blinked.

You stared up at him, mouth pressing into a thin line. “A 14-year-old kid, Satoru.” You swallowed hard, voice a little smaller now. “Am I… old?”

Gojo’s face went blank.

Then—

Then—

He wheezed.

Laughter exploded out of him, so sudden and uncontrollable he practically fell off you, rolling onto his back, clutching his stomach.

“Oh my God—”

You sat up, glaring. “Satoru—”

“Babe—” He gasped for air, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, babe, no—”

He didn’t get to finish.

You were already off the bed, marching to the kitchen.

His laughter died real fast when you returned with a wooden spoon, gripping it with murderous intent.

“Wait—WAIT—”

But you were on him, swinging with the precision of a seasoned warrior (Yaga).

Gojo scrambled, dodging like his life depended on it, flailing as you chased him around the apartment.

“You think this is funny?!” Smack.

“OW—BABE—” Smack.

“Satoru, I swear to GOD—” Smack.

“SORRY BABE, PLEASE—”

Somewhere between the third and fourth swing, Gojo finally caught the spoon, twisting it from your grip and flipping you onto the bed.

The air shifted instantly, thick with tension.

His weight pinned you, trapping you beneath him, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. He leaned in, breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. “You wanna know what I think?”

You swallowed, body burning from the chase—and now, from something else entirely.

“I think,” he murmured, fingers trailing down your sides, slipping beneath your shirt with a tantalizing slowness, “that you’re fucking gorgeous.”

A shiver ran through you as heat coiled low in your stomach, intensifying under his touch.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart with infuriating ease, hiking your skirt up just enough to send your heart racing. “You drive me insane.” He kissed you—deep, dizzying, swallowing your breath as he rubbed against you. “And I’m gonna make you forget you ever cared about some dumbass kid’s opinion.”

As he leaned in closer, his mouth brushed against your clit through your soaked panties, igniting a spark that shot straight to your core.

With a flick of his wrist, he tore the fabric apart, the sound making your breath hitch in your throat.

Electricity shot through your body as his tongue began to circle, teasing and exploring, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue lashing against your clit as he devoured you. You felt yourself melting, your body trembling as he worshipped you, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin, anchoring you as if he couldn’t bear to let you escape.

“Tell me how it feels,” he breathed against you, voice low and commanding, coaxing you to let go.

You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body shuddering in response to his relentless assault. Gojo's tongue was a master, coaxing you closer to the edge. “Please…” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

His mouth continued to devour you, each stroke of his tongue sending you tumbling over the edge. You cried out, the sound echoing through the room, but Gojo didn’t relent.

His mouth never leaving you as he pushed you toward another climax, his tongue swirling and teasing. You felt yourself spiraling, completely lost in the sensations, your body quaking beneath his expert touch.

When you came for the fifth time, your body began to tremble, muscles weakening. Gojo's grip only tightened, fingers digging deeper as he held you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of pleasure.

Then he climbed on top of you, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel the weight of him—the solid strength that grounded you amidst the chaos. He pulled his dick out, sliding into you with a slow, deliberate thrust.

He fucked you senseless, like he had something to prove, like he needed to burn every insecurity out of you until there was nothing left but him—his touch, his voice, his name tangled in your gasping moans.

With every thrust, he filled you completely, and you felt yourself drifting, consciousness fading as Gojo’s touch sent you tumbling into oblivion. His pace was steady and deep, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where nothing else existed.

Your vision began to blur, your body going limp beneath him as pleasure washed over you. You felt yourself being pulled under, losing yourself in the intensity of what he was doing to you.

As you lost consciousness, Gojo’s mouth finally left your mouth, lips brushing against your jaw, trailing up to your ear as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful when you’re coming apart.”

His hands gripped your hips, fingers holding you firmly in place, his chest pressing against your breasts.

You were unaware of anything, your body limp and unresponsive as Gojo cradled you, lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “I’ll catch you when you fall.”

And with that, everything went black.

Gojo felt a rush of exhilaration as you surrendered beneath him, but that thrill quickly turned into a knot of worry in his gut when he realized you had gone limp. His thrusts slowed, confusion washing over him as he looked down at your unconscious form.

Gojo’s eyes widened as the realization hit him like a cold wave: you were out. Your body was limp beneath him, your chest still rising and falling, but your face—your face was blank, eyes closed. He pulled out, pulling you into his arms.

For a split second, panic gripped him, his heart leaping into his throat. “Shit… did I—?” He froze, running his hands over your body, as if searching for any sign that you were still there. His breath hitched in his chest, his mind spiraling into a dark panic.

What the fuck had he done? He just—he couldn’t have—he had to stop, had to check, but you were still warm, still breathing, and—

He sat up on his knees, shaking you gently. His fingers shook as he gently cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Hey… hey, wake up. Come on, babe…”

He watched, heart racing, as the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. He’d never meant for it to go this far. All that confidence he exuded melted away, leaving only a frantic concern.

What if he had crossed a line? What if you didn’t wake up?

Just when Gojo was ready to call for help or just fall apart in full-blown panic, you stirred.

A groggy, muffled groan slipped past your lips. Your eyelids fluttered, slowly opening, and you blinked, looking up at Gojo, still above you, his wide eyes full of concern.

You furrowed your brow, rubbing at your face as you came to.

“What happened?” You mumbled, your voice thick.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he watched you blink up at him. “You passed out. I thought I broke you!”

The confusion on your face slowly faded into a lazy, disoriented smile, and you let out a small chuckle. “Toru…” You blinked again, still half-dazed, your voice soft and slightly slurred. “Your dick’s not that destructive.” You teased, “more like a wrecking ball of pleasure, maybe.”

Gojo froze, his hand still hovering over your face. For a second, his heart stopped from relief, but then the corner of his mouth twitched into a grin. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, leaning back as he chuckled nervously, trying to hide the anxiety that had been coiling in his chest.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he admitted, voice low, yet with a touch of laughter still lingering. “I thought I’d killed you there for a second. You passed out like... like I just—”

“Relax, Toru,” you interrupted, now fully awake, though still giggling. “You didn’t kill me.” You smirked, your gaze sharpening with a mix of teasing and exhaustion. “But maybe next time, try not to knock me out with your sex skills, alright?”

Gojo’s face flushed a little, but the nervous tension eased from his shoulders. He let out a breath of relief, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to be so... intense next time.”

But there was a spark in his eyes, a mischievous glint that suggested maybe, just maybe, he liked the chaos just a little bit too much. “But I gotta say, seeing you pass out from that? Damn, babe. I really am that good.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips never faltered.

“No. We are not doing this.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah.”

After a beat, he continued, “I was seriously worried I’d have to explain to everyone that I killed my girlfriend with my—uh, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, scratching his chin. “I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed. Next time, maybe don’t go all ‘strongest’ on me?”

“More like a generous lover who cares about your well-being. You did just faint from pleasure, after all.”

“Generous, huh?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Gojo’s lips brushed over your forhead and asked, “still worried?”

You couldn’t even remember what you were mad about.

He chuckled, smug. “That’s what I thought.”

You scoffed.

“You loooove me,” he crooned, nuzzling your neck. “And admit it—you’re way hotter than me.”

“You wish.”

“I know,” he said, grinning against your skin. “But hey—” His voice softened, just for a second. “If some brat calls you ‘auntie’ again, I’ll just tell them you’re my sugar mama. Problem solved.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously young-looking,” he corrected, laying back down with you on his chest. "Now, c’mon—let’s make decisions we’ll regret in the morning. Let’s order and eat pizza in bed.”

When you woke up the next morning, sore and thoroughly ruined, there was a sticky note on the nightstand.

“Still hot, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes.

But you kept the note.

Ryomen Sukuna x F!Reader

You pushed open the front door, the soft click echoing through the dimly lit apartment. The moment you stepped inside, a heavy tension seemed to settle over you, wrapping around your shoulders like a cloak. Your mood had been off all day, and you were desperate for some comfort.

Sukuna, sprawled on the couch with his two arms crossed behind his head, lazily chucking dry squid chips into his tummy mouth. His crimson eyes flicked toward you the moment you walked in, that intense gaze igniting a flicker of warmth in your chest—despite the gnawing sense of dread that often accompanied it.

“Welcome back, brat,” he said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips as he set the chips aside. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Tummy mouth licked it’s lips and grinned up at you like you were the next snack.

You sighed, sinking into the plush cushions beside him. “More like I’ve had a long day. I just... I don’t know.”

Sukuna tilted his head, his interest piqued. He leaned closer, those four arms shifting to wrap around you, drawing you into his embrace. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, and despite your earlier mood, you leaned into him.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his tone low and smooth, coaxing you to share what weighed on your mind. “What’s bothering you?”

After a moment of hesitation, you glanced up, meeting his gaze. “A kid called me ‘aunt’ today. I mean, am I old, Ryo?”

Silence.

Then—

Sukuna, from his throne of squid chips and self-importance, slowly turned to look at you.

He blinked once.

Then twice.

Then—

He lost his shit.

A low, rumbling laugh tore from his chest as he sat up, four arms crossed, grinning like a menace. “If you’re an aunt, then what does that make me? A fossil?”

From his stomach, Tummy Mouth cackled, too.

You glared at him, gripping a couch cushion. “This is not funny, Ryo.”

“It is absolutely hilarious,” he shot back, still grinning like the world’s worst boyfriend.

You could feel your soul leaving your body.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “You thinking about getting one of those old lady shawls? Maybe some knitting needles?”

You grabbed another cushion.

“Start saying stuff like ‘back in my youth’?”

Second cushion, loaded.

“Want me to help you cross the street next time?”

Projectile launched.

The bastard caught it with one hand.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be mad,” he drawled, leaning closer. “It’s kinda cute, y’know. You. My little ancient relic.”

You scowled. “I will shove you off this couch.”

But before you could, he grabbed your wrist, his smirk vanishing completely.

His gaze darkened.

“Hey.” His voice dropped, dangerously smooth. “You’re not actually upset about this, are you?”

You hesitated.

You hadn’t meant to let it show, but he always saw through you.

“Hey,” he said, softer now, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “You really think I’d let some brat’s words get to you? You're not some washed-up relic waiting to be put in a museum.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It just hit me, okay? I’m not a sorcerer like you, Ryo. I’m not going to live as long as you.”

For a brief moment, his teasing faded, replaced by an unreadable seriousness.

Then—

He stood up.

You blinked. “What are you—?”

“Tell me what he looks like.”

You stared. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna was on a mission.

A dumbass, completely unnecessary, unhinged mission.

But a mission nonetheless.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re not a sorcerer. But that doesn’t mean you get to let some kid make you feel like you’re less than you are. We’re going to find this brat, and I’ll make sure they know how ridiculous they are for calling you that.”

You shook your head, trying to quell the surge of embarrassment. “I don’t need you fighting a kid for me.”

“So you want to fight him?”

You had barely managed to get the words “No fighting a kid” out of your mouth before he had already decided that a 14-year-old was his next sworn enemy.

His sharp eyes gleamed with the kind of excitement that should’ve been reserved for actual battles, not... minor conflicts with prepubescent boys.

“Oh, we’re fighting him,” Sukuna declared, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a boss battle.

“No, we are not.”

“You’re right,” he said, nodding solemnly before grinning. “I am fighting him.”

You groaned, attempting to drag him back toward the house, but Sukuna didn’t budge. Obviously. He was 7 feet tall, built like he bench-pressed elephants for cardio, and had extra arms just in case one got tired mid-rampage.

You had exactly zero chances of stopping this.

So, five minutes later, you found yourself standing in a local park, feeling deep shame as Sukuna zeroed in on a child who had been minding his own business.

The kid was hanging out with his friends, chewing on the end of a bubble tea straw like he was plotting someone’s demise, when Sukuna stormed over like a final boss, making his entrance.

“Hey, kid!” Sukuna’s voice boomed, causing several pigeons to take flight in sheer terror.

The child glanced up, blinking at the literal demon king before him. “What.”

Oh. The kid had attitude.

Sukuna grinned, baring fangs. Good. He liked a challenge.

“Why’d you call her ‘aunt’? As far as I know, your ugly head is not related to my bloodline.” Sukuna folded his arms across his chest, all four of them, making a point to flex. His sheer size cast a shadow over the kid, an obvious ‘I eat kids for fun’ aura radiating off of him.

The kid took a sip of his drink, unbothered, and stared Sukuna dead in the eye. “Bro, why you built like Goro Majima on steroids?”

Sukuna’s grin twitched.

You choked on air.

One of the kid’s friends snorted, muttering, “Nah, fr. Why he got that Elden Ring DLC boss stance?”

Another one nodded, whispering, “Lookin’ like a JoJo stand.”

Sukuna’s eyebrow twitched again. The menace had met his match.

“You got a smart mouth for a child,” he said, voice low, deadly.

The kid took another sip, slowly. Unphased. “And you got four hands but still can’t pull more bitches than me.”

Your soul left your body.

Sukuna just stared, blinking once. Then twice.

He had met his match.

And his match was a boba-drinking, TikTok-brained, 14-year-old with no sense of self-preservation.

The kid blinked up at Sukuna, utterly unbothered by the seven-foot, four-armed, literal curse king looming over him.

Sukuna, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.

His eye twitched. His jaw clenched. His tummy mouth growled.

You knew that look.

He was one insult away from punting this child into the next dimension.

And, naturally, the kid was more than happy to provide.

“You good, grandpa?” The kid took another slow sip of his boba, raising an eyebrow. “Need a cane? A hearing aid? Maybe some dentures?”

You choked on air.

Sukuna’s entire soul left his body.

This little bastard.

Sukuna cracked his knuckles, stepping forward like he was about to commit a war crime.

Finally, the kid sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme guess. She thinks I called her ‘aunt’?” He turned the screen toward you, showing you an Instagram story he had posted earlier—a blurry picture of his actual aunt standing in the background, captioned: “Auntie bought me boba today 🤝”.

Sukuna squinted.

You squinted.

Your soul came back just to leave again.

Sukuna’s fists clenched.

“I WAS TALKING ABOUT MY AUNT,” the kid said, exasperated, dragging a hand down his face like this was somehow your fault. “Damn, y’all are so old, your ears don’t even work anymore.”

Sukuna was already raising his hand to use his technique to ‘dismantle the kid.

“Ryo, no—”

“Lil bastard, you got one more smartass comment before I send you to the next life—”

And that was the exact moment you had to physically throw your arms around him, dragging him away from the child before he violated several laws of human decency.

“Ryo, you are not fighting a child!”

“He has no fear of death!” Sukuna snarled, arms flexing like he was debating whether yeeting you off would be worth it.

Meanwhile, the kid, still untouched, just smirked and waved. “Stay mad, grandpa.”

You had never seen Sukuna closer to homicide.

By the time you got home, you were exhausted.

Sukuna was still seething as he threw himself on the couch, arms crossed, muttering about “bratty little shits who needed discipline.”

You pulled out your phone, firing off a quick text to the group chat with your girlfriends—Gojo’s wife and Nanami’s girlfriend.

You: False alarm. The kid didn’t call me old.

Gojo’s wife: Wait, what?

Nanami’s girl: So he called ME old?

You: No, he called HIS OWN aunt.

Silence.

Then—

Gojo’s wife: Oh my god. Were we all fighting for our lives for no reason?

Nanami’s girl: No. No, I cannot face the world. I will be passing away.

Unfortunately, their husband/boyfriends saw the texts.

From over their shoulders.

You weren’t there to witness it, but you knew exactly how it went down.

Nanami’s girlfriend, upon realization, had immediately buried herself in the nearest closet.

Nanami, standing in the doorway, was hunched over, laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

Gojo, meanwhile, had been cackling so violently that he had collapsed to the floor, actually wheezing.

And naturally, Gojo’s wife did the only rational thing.

She picked up the nearest wooden spoon and started chasing him.

Gojo, still laughing, booked it. “BABE, PLEASE—”

You could practically hear it through the screen.

Sukuna, still fuming, looked over at your phone.

“...So, what I’m hearing is, we ruined that kid’s entire afternoon for nothing.”

You met his gaze, sighed, and collapsed onto the couch next to him.

“Yep.”

A long silence.

Then—

Sukuna grinned, sharp and feral. “It was fun, we’ll be doing it often.”

“Ryo No.”

“Ryo Yes.”

A/N: If someone called you auntie/uncle/older sibling out of nowhere, how fast are you filing for emotional damages? 1. IMMEDIATELY. Suing for emotional distress. 2. I’m pretending I didn’t hear. Never happened. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss. 3. Accepting my fate and investing in anti-aging skincare immediately. 4. Laughing it off but dying inside. Drop your trauma in the comments. Nanami is here to hold us all. 😌

All Works Masterlist

[gojosoups]

gojo satoru who likes keeping your pussy at the mercy of his finger tips. six inch long digits making a mess of your gummy walls, pussy juices coating him to the wrist as he resists the urge to lick up your pretty hole for the rest of the night.

[satocidal]

thinking about tutor!Geto...

"mmmm' su-gu-ru....." your voice drawled out, a whine playing your lips, a frown etched on your face as he edges you for the third time - "st-aph," you head rolled back, falling back against his chest, your thighs sprawled out as he fixated you on his lap, your thighs on either side of his. "stop?" he muses, a sharp amusement in his voice, "but it is your punishment, isn't it? you have to..." his voice trailed away, eyes gazing at your spent form. your body was covered in a sheen of sweat - naked, mouth agape, eyes shut tight as you heaved against him, all clothed in his crisp uniform as ever - "do you even remember what you're being punished for?" he asked sharply, you yelped at that, his hand came down flat on your folds. "s' much sugu... pleaseee - i can't," you begged and he wondered where you hid this compliant nature whenever you talked back to him. "frankly," he spoke, as if this were completely normal, "i couldn't care less," his fingers drew the slowest circles on your swollen nub, he'd had you like for hours now. "jus' tell me why you're here," he grinned, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your neck, his fingers suddenly rubbing on your cllit frantically - you gasped and squirmed, as always. "i- i-" you tried to buck your hips as he worked his fingers, his other hand squeezing your tits, "tch tch tch, can't stay still either?" he grimaced, another slap landing on your cunt. He grinned at the way you whined and pouted at him, so sweet, all for him - your bags lay scattered somewhere, a test score on his table - "let's do it again," he whispered, fingers losing their tempo again, "why are you being punished?" you sighed, head falling on his shoulder, his fingers teased your opening, collecting the slick as he urged you to answer with little coos, "i- i lost 5 marks?" you panted, he grinned and kissed your cheek. "my doll really is so smart - only 5, and she knows what she did wrong too," he said with a straight face as he began fingering you, reveling in the way you struggled and moaned to feel more of him - "so now be a good doll and tell me how many times we gotta punish this lil' cunny, hm?"

you had tears in your eyes now, at the pace he fingered you, "twooooo," you choked out - Suguru grinned, pulling out ompletely and shoving his fingers, covered in your slick, in our mouth.

Little reward for the 95 marks you did score.

[hellokittyish]

★ thinking about nanami who, contrary to popular belief, is completely oblivious to just how big his dick is.

because this is a man who rarely ever watches porn due to him finding the performances highly overdramatized, so he hasn’t really had the chance to compare his size to other men. and while he’s by no means a virgin, he’s always assumed that the women who have told him he’s ‘big’ were just aiming to flatter him — his mother raised him to be humble, after all.

but it’s not until he gets you (the sweet girl he’s been seeing for the past few months) into his bed that it dawns on him that he might be a little… larger than average, to say the least.

“k-kento— ‘s not gonna fit,” you whine pitifully beneath him, fat tears beading along your lower lashes as you squirm against the mattress. “‘m sorry but... i-i don’t think i can take it all.”

and nanami can do nothing but gape at how giant his cock suddenly seems in comparison to your little fluttering hole, his angry reddened tip trying (and failing) to slowly push past the first ring of resistance inside your spongy walls.

“o-oh, sweetheart,” he rasps out, adam’s apple bobbing harshly as he swallows down the thick lump that seems to have arisen in his throat. “i’m sure we can make it fit, no? just… just try ‘n relax a little more for me.”

“i’ve been trying to relax this whole time,” you hiccup, trembling hands pawing at his bulky arms positioned either side of your head as he peers down at you sympathetically. “you’re just too b-big, ken.”

he exhales deeply, leaning down to press a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth as a form of apology for what he’s about to do— before swiftly using all of the strength in his lower body to thrust every inch of him inside in one go.

and you’re squealing, nails no doubt leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his muscular biceps as you thrash against the sheets, desperately trying to adjust to the feeling of being so completely and utterly full, your poor cunt practically being split in two to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“christ— ah, there we go,” he grunts, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his forehead as he forces himself to stay completely still above you, allowing you ample time to get as comfortable as possible. “see, darling? i told you we’d make it fit.”

but nanami can’t bear the idea of you struggling this much every time the two of you are intimate, so he comes to the conclusion that he’ll just have to make sure that by the end of the night, your insides are moulded to the exact shape of his cock.

that way it won’t be such a difficult fit next time, right?