#higuruma imagine

[holeforzenin]

RIDING HIGURUMA’S NOSE!!

Tw - Pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation? Also the reader is sitting on his face cowgirl position. I'm so sorry for any errors.

"Fuck! N-not so hard!" you cried out as he continued to suck on your clit, big strong arms gripping onto your thighs to keep you placed on his face. It's been like what, an hour? You swore you've never seen a man that loves eating pussy as much as Hiromi does and he's so fucking skilled at doing it too, it makes you see stars.

You don't even get the point of begging him to stop anymore, all you could do is sit there, moaning nonstop with tears leaking down your eyes from overstimulation as he feasts on your cunt, his growls vibrating against your slit when you try to wriggle out of his sturdy grip only for him to squeeze his arms around your thighs harder, you can literally see the veins and muscles on his arms budging out cause of his tight grip. A mixture of your juices and his drool running down his cheeks and chin as he eats you out sloppily.

He slowly pulls away from your cunt and lands a hard slap on your right-ass cheek before squeezing the soft flesh. "Ride my face baby, come on you can do it, cum f'me one more time and then I'll stop yeah?". He says lazily, he loves to be in control and ravish your messy cunt the way he pleases but he also enjoys seeing you attempting to get yourself off on his face. It's amusing to him.

You were tired. You didn't really wanna do anything, but you never know how much longer he's gonna take before stopping if you let him have it his way, so you decided to slowly grind your cunt on his tongue, groaning as you felt the vibrations of his mumble "that's my good girl" against you.

You continued moving back and forth on his face, desperately trying to cum so you can get this over with, till you accidentally felt yourself bumping against his nose, your body jolted in pleasure as you felt it against you for a split second, your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Hiromi. It was so weird, not in a million years would you have thought that you'd feel pleasure from someone's nose? But I guess there's a first time for everything.

He was probably thinking the exact same thing you were as you felt his arms loosen around your thighs, you didn't waste a second as you moved back to get closer to his nose area, seating yourself at the bridge of his nose before your eyes rolled back as you felt his tongue attacking your clit, it was so fucking good, you took it as a sign to keep going as you moved your cunt back and forth on his nose, the tip of it digging into you as it drags against your creamy folds while his tongue laps your clit.

You felt your hole fluttering around nothing as you keep up your pace, riding the bump of his nose, you moved your hand to the back of his head to grip onto his hair so you can keep his head still to your liking as you felt him groaning against you while your gripping onto the strands. Your sweet moans filled the moan as you continue grinding down on his big nose, you squeaked unexpectedly, feeling his arms tightening around your thighs again, he's impatient. Strong arms keeping you intact, making you arch your back when you felt him pressing his nose against your entrance, the bridge of it digging into your cunt hole as he brings one of his hand up to your clit, rubbing fast sloppy circles on it as he ruts his nose into you, moving his head in all sorts of ways so he can hear your stupid little blabbers as he feeds you more pleasure.

Skilled tongue sucking on your poor clit as he watches your head falls back, thighs clenching against his hold. "Ohmygod! ohmygod! Fuckkk, gonna cum! M'gonna cum please don't stop feels so good" you cried out, your brain in shambles as you felt this weird sensation erupting in your stomach, before you could even process it, what feels like a gallon of clear liquid gushes out of you like a water hose and lands all over his pretty face and sheets, even despite that he still kept going, slurping and licking up your juices from your messy cunny as he sucks on it as if he was eating an orange.

After he was satisfied, he manhandles your body and picks you up, placing you on his lap while he moves his upper body up in the process, your pussy juice dripping off his face onto the bed as he got up, panting and trying to catch his breath as he sticks his tongue out to lick any reminding of your juices off his face. He takes a second to observe your shaking body from his lap, he wraps his arms around your smaller flame while whispering into your ear.

"Crazy to think that the first time you'd ever squirt is because of my nose huh?" he chuckles. "Such a messy little girl aren't ya princess?". He plants kisses on your neck to calm you down. Based on how much you know about higuruma, it's definitely gonna become a regular thing when it comes to you sitting on his face and your not complaining one bit.

[cumironi]

ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

[mahgyu]

Higuruma smut + N$FW audio

• minors do not interact!

──── When Higuruma has a particularly stressful day, he can only truly relax by having his cock buried in you, stimulating you to the maximum to hear those sweet whimpers of pleasure.

"Do you like that, baby?" Higuruma's voice is deep and husky as he thrusts into you, his skillful fingers playing with your clitoris with the intention of bringing you to orgasm. He smiles as you frantically nod your head, a loud moan escaping from your open mouth as you lie there, sprawled and fucked against the pillows.

"Uh? Do you like how my cock is stretching you?" He teases, and you know he's still smiling as he says it. Tilting his hips to hit your G-spot with each thrust, Higuruma can't help but kiss you with an open mouth as you sigh and whimper from the intense pleasure, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Oh, Hiromi, fuuuck " You already feel so dumb, babbling nonsense and moaning freely as you teeter on the edge. "Are you going to cum for me, baby? Come on, moan for me, let everyone know who treats this pussy so well..." He urges as your orgasm starts to hit you hard.

Your pussy is squeezing Higuruma's cock, your walls vibrating deliciously around him as he lets out a deep growl that makes his fingertips dig into the skin of your hips.

Your moans are loud and high-pitched, echoing through the room and drowning out the creaking of the bed. "That's it, sweetie, just like that" He smiles, hearing you curse and moan his name desperately as he ravenously kisses your mouth. "You can take a little more, can't you? You have no idea how much I need to fill you with my cum, sweetheart ".

⠀

Higuruma's version! Thank you again to everyone who was willing to help me with the audio issue <3

Do you have another character suggestion? Let me know who else you would like to see here.

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome 🫶🏻💕

[kurooh]

DOUBLE FANTASY ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring threesomes with gojo satoru + geto suguru, nanami kento + higuruma hiromi, shiu kong + fushiguro toji, tsukumo yuki + kamo choso.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, threesomes, oral [m&f rec], spit roasting, double penetration, some degradation, choking, rough sex, squirting, sharing a cigarette, spit, clit slaps. | 4.5K words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. comment & rb if you enjoyed <3 !

GOJO & GETO.

perhaps letting your two roommates take care of you after a messy breakup wasn’t a good idea—or is it? less than an hour ago, you’d come home sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and eyes puffy.

satoru and suguru had pulled you into a tight hug, internally thankful you’d broken things off with that asshole (they’d hated when he would come around) but also sympathetic towards you. it was a tough choice, which was then promptly celebrated over margaritas and shots on the couch. one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against suguru’s strong chest, body sweltering with need hotter than a fire.

“s-sugu, i don’t think you can both fit inside.”

“not with that attitude, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, hands settling on your hips as he places a small kiss to your cheek. “come now, anything’s possible if you believe in it.”

“bleh, you sound like confucius,” satoru fake gags dramatically, lining his cock up with his best friend’s. their sticky tips prod at your folds, and your heart races faster, rattling around in your ribcage so loudly you can hear it in your ears. although you’re a little nervous, the alcohol you’ve had helps to take the edge away; you impatiently wiggle your hips forward.

“i’m sorry . . ? do you even know who confucius is?” suguru asks incredulously, flicking his bangs to the side with a jerk of his head.

“i’ve seen you read enough of—”

“don’t do this right now,” you plead, voice whiny. “just fuck me already.”

“now, honey. you’ll have plenty of time to slut yourself out for us, don’t you worry.”

“nah, she’s right,” satoru quips, wrapping his hand around their cocks. suguru inhales sharply, unintentionally jerking his hips forward for more. “you ready for us, babe?”

you nod weakly, and the three of you moan in unison as satoru pushes their cocks inside you. it’s slow at first, but the stretch is one that you’ll remember for a lifetime—the burn of being split open on two cocks melts into something euphoric as each inch passes your entrance. satoru groans hungrily, his head falling back. snowy tufts of hair obscure his diamond blue eyes that he tightly squeezes shut, and a huff of breath leaves his lips.

suguru kisses your jaw, fingers trailing along the slopes of your body before finally sweeping over the delicate skin of your throat. you breath hitches when he whispers into your ear: “we’d always hear you begging to be choked harder. don’t you remember that, satoru?”

“hngh, yeah,” he swallows hard at the memory—he and his best friend always heard everything through those paper thin walls. they’d heard your dissatisfaction and vowed to satiate you someday. “and you’d always be going deeper, deeper!”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment. had your roommates really heard everything? how did they face you so easily in the morning after being kept awake each night?

“we’ll give you everything, sweetheart.”

suguru squeezes your throat experimentally, and the corners of his lips lift when you release a moan you’d been holding back for far too long. he and his best friend slowly start to move, rocking their hips into you and developing a smooth tempo.

“both of you are so fucking big,” you mewl, back bowing off of suguru’s chest. they’re filling you up and stretching you out and just as you think it can’t get any better, satoru’s nimble fingers wander to your clit. he curiously toys with it, eyes darkening lustfully once you react how he’d been hoping you would.

“perfect size just for you,” suguru coos, yanking you down by the throat. “satoru, spank her a little.”

he obliges, reading his best friend’s mind easily—a stinging slap lands on your clit, sending prickling shocks of pleasure through your body. the tips of their cocks kiss your cervix, pushing so deep you can’t seem to breathe. satoru gifts your swollen, sensitive clit with slap after slap; the force behind each one only increases until you’re crying freely.

but you’re not begging him to stop, you’re begging him for more.

“god, i always knew you were a fucking slut,” satoru chokes out, pausing to lick some of your slick off his palm. your stomach flips around at the simple action, something hot flashing through you when he closes his eyes momentarily and savors the taste. “finally . . got you to myself.”

then he looks at suguru, who rolls his eyes. “well, for the most part.”

“no need to sound so excited,” he deadpans, huffing beneath you. “as if you’d fuck any better than that damn ex boyfriend.”

satoru scoffs in disbelief, slapping your clit with renewed strength. his hips are still moving, still burying his cock and suguru’s inside you deeper. they’ve got you entirely stuffed—maybe this would be better than some turkey on thanksgiving. your clit throbs with each punishing slap, but your eyes still roll back each time. while they bicker, your oxygen deprived brain spins with arousal and tipsiness. you shudder, going still and barely even managing to warn them of what’s about to happen.

“fuck, i’m gonna—‘m cumming,” you sob, sounding fragile just before you’re about to break. flashes of heat chase their way through you, until they finally explode out of you, in the form of a soaking orgasm. out of patterned habit, satoru’s palm smacks your puffy clit, which only prolongs your intoxicating high further. the intense contractions inadvertently push their cocks a few inches out of you, and your cum splashes on their skin, eliciting pleased groans from them both.

“baby, did you just—”

“she did, satoru,” suguru confirms, biting back a moan.

“i don’t even—i don’t know what happened,” you pant, hissing when someone’s tip bumps against your twitching clit.

“‘s called squirting,” satoru supplies, entranced as he stares at your messy cunt. a mixture of slick and cum coats your inner thighs, and he can’t help but swipe a finger across your skin and then stick it into his mouth. he releases it with a pop, and eyes suguru knowingly.

his voice is now raspy, thick with desire. “let’s make it happen again, sweetheart. we can take turns, of course. but my face comes before satoru’s.”

NANAMI & HIGURUMA.

the smooth oak wood surface of higuruma’s desk is littered with papers hastily swept to the side, and the fabric of your skirt fans out over a few of them. pens and other stationary supplies are forgotten on the floor, along with your now wrinkled blouse.

“h-holy shit—‘romi, right there! just like that.”

“one can only hope that this’ll be enough luck to carry us through the trial,” higuruma grunts, nails digging crescent shaped indents into the fat of your ass. he’s gripping you tightly, chest heaving rapidly as he vigorously fucks his cock deeper.

“ah, hiromi,” nanami huffs, pushing a few stray hairs away from his forehead. they’d escaped their neatly gelled place on his head when the three of you had rushed into higuruma’s office to discuss the final procedures before your trial. “don’t be a downer . . . this is more than lucky. we’ll win, of course.”

you sob, clawing at higuruma’s shoulders. he’d discarded his suit jacket long ago, carefully folded it on one of his bookshelves so as not to ruin the cuffs and smoothness of the fabric. now, he’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt all the way up to his elbows, and his loosened black tie swings in your face with each of his thrusts.

“wait, hiromi,” your clammy hand pushes against his stomach insistently, “s-slow down, it’s too much, i—”

higuruma looks toward nanami for instruction, and the latter simply pauses stroking his cock. he stands, pushing back the spinning chair he’d been sitting on, and steps toward the edge of the desk. a sheen of sweat covers your forehead and disrupts the smoothness of your makeup, but nanami doesn’t take much pity on you—instead, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“need me to show you too much, angel?” his voice is low and dark, words laced with a throaty rasp that has your pussy squeezing higuruma’s cock. nanami’s eyebrow raises as he pushes your thighs apart to take a look at the mess between them.

“seems to me like she wants you to,” higuruma nods toward your pussy, then loosens his tie and collar further. “after my turn, of course.”

nanami grunts in agreement, settling on the edge of the desk beside your head instead of the chair. the desk creaks weakly from the newly added weight, and for a moment the idea of it collapsing beneath the three of you crosses your mind. higuruma snaps his hips forward, unconsciously licking the sweat away from his upper lip when he starts up.

your hand lamely pushes against his stomach again, but he shakes his head and nanami reacts immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and slamming your hand down on the wood. whimpers leave your lips and the air is punched out of your lungs with each of higuruma’s strong thrusts; he’s so deep you can practically feel him in your chest.

“ken, i need—my clit,” you gasp, back bowing off the desk fruitlessly. your hips twist and jerk away from higuruma’s cock, for fear of being split open. “touch my clit, i need to cum—”

nanami slaps your cheek again, and your eyes roll back at the penalizing sting. “hiromi, you hear that? she wants to cum.” he mocks your words, then turns back to you, hazel eyes burning holes into your own. “and how do good girls ask to cum, baby? certainly not the way you just did.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl, and higuruma slaps your clit and makes you shudder. “p-please, i wanna cum for you—i’ve been a good girl!”

“hm, hiromi? you think she’s been a good girl?”

you look up at higuruma pleadingly, tears gathered in your lashes and sparkling in the light. you’ve got that blissed out and dumb look on your face, completely at peace with being thrown around and shared between them.

“sluts take it,” he groans, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard. he yanks your body closer, further bullying his cock inside you. “‘nd you’ve been running from me—isn’t that right, babygirl?”

nanami clicks his tongue, and pinches one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he looks down at you nicely, cheeks pink and hair mussed.

“maybe i’ll let you cum when it’s my turn,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips when you weakly moan his name as if he’ll give you permission. “for now, you’ll have to beg. now, go on and open wide, baby.”

the moment your lips part, nanami spits onto your tongue; he watches you expectantly and nodding in acceptance when you swallow, drunk on the taste of his peppermint gum.

“that’s right,” higuruma backs him up, looking down his nose at you expectantly. “speak now or forever hold your orgasm, sweetheart.”

TOJI & SHIU.

“so, princess, still up for lunch later?” shiu grunts around a chuckle, passing the lit cigarette to toji. the latter accepts it with a scoff, rolling his jade green eyes as he sticks it between his lips.

“yes,” you and toji answer at the same time, but your voice is muffled on shiu’s cock.

toji gifts your ass with a slap and exhales the smoke, handing the cigarette back to shiu with a glare. his once stagnant hips begin to move again, almost as if he’s rejuvenated from his little smoke break. shiu only laughs, cupping the crown of your head in order to ease his cock further down your throat.

“i’m surprised you’ve got the money for that, toji,” shiu teases, exhaling sharply when the tip of his cock bumps into your uvula and makes you gag. your throat constricts around his length and you let out a muffled whine in reaction to the stretch.

“you crazy or sum’n?” toji snaps, choosing to argue with his best friend while he’s balls deep inside you. his harsh thrusts make your pussy squelch, and shiu’s cum from earlier spills out onto the bedsheets below. “of course i’ve got the fuckin’ money for lunch, but you’re gonna be the one paying, dumbass.”

his fingers find your swollen clit and he pinches it, making you gasp around shiu’s cock. you choke, gagging so hard tears pool in your eyes—shiu strokes your head comfortingly as you pull off his cock, coughing hard.

“you okay, babygirl?” and he looks at toji disapprovingly, but he only continues to fuck you. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix lightly with each thrust, and when he feels like he’s not going deep enough, he lifts your hips to pull you back. “toji, that was mean.”

“mean . . ? shiu, my girl can fuckin’ handle it. ain’t that right, baby?” he looks to you for confirmation, quirking a brow while the scarred corner of his lip curves into a smirk.

this whole mess had started when you’d spent a night in with toji, watching movies and taking shots every now and then. you’d gotten drunk, swaying on your feet and giggling as you’d pointed to the tv screen dazedly.

“oh, toji, look! that guy looks like shiu!”

he could see the resemblance, and grunted, “damn, he does. ugly just like him too.”

“shiu isn’t ugly!” you jumped up drunkenly to defend his best friend’s appearance, waving your arms around dramatically. “he’s very good looking, actually.”

“oh, really? he doesn’t have any muscle, though.”

“toji, don’t be silly,” you laughed at your boyfriend, “‘course he does, it’s just under all those clothes of his. if he took ‘em off, you’d know what i mean!”

“so you got a crush on shiu?” toji asked in disbelief, his cheeks flaring a deeper pink as he took another vodka shot. “aw, i should let him know.”

one thing led to another, and shiu had come over for breakfast. then your little crush had gotten out, and a bet was placed—who could fuck you better? the condition for the loser was then set in place: whoever lost would buy lunch for the three of you without question.

“y-yeah, toji,” you mumble, forehead pressing into shiu’s pelvis weakly. he’d been the first to fuck you, and now it’s toji’s turn with your pussy—you’re sure you won’t walk smoothly ever again.

“can’t hear you,” toji taunts, lifting your hips and yanking you back onto his cock. the new angle forces him deeper, stretching your cunt out even further. “wanna repeat that for me, doll?”

“ngh, f-fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back. his cock slams into that sweet, sensitive spot that’s deep inside you, and the tears that had been building in your eyes finally pour down your cheeks. the mascara and eye makeup you’d worn for the breakfast smears against shiu’s skin and makes messy tracks down your face. he curiously slips a finger beneath your chin to make you look up at him.

“aw, baby. i really can’t wait to hear who fucked you better . . . my back certainly wasn’t cracking as much as his is.”

“shut it, shiu,” toji groans, savoring the broken moans that freely leave your lips—gasping ah’s and whines that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “hand me the fuckin’ cig.”

shiu obliges, chuckling softly when he notices you pawing around his thighs in search of his cock. you whimper when you finally get his tip back in your mouth (with his guidance), slowly taking him in inch by inch. he groans, tossing his head back when he finally bumps into the back of your throat.

“m-mind if i fuck your mouth, doll face?” he asks, thighs twitching expectantly. a vein in toji’s forehead bulges at the way he steals his pet name for you.

you shake your head shyly, blinking slowly while toji fucks every single thought out of your head. he’s deliberately holding himself back so you’ll go dumb on his cock, unable to scream anything but his name. yes, this is how he’ll show shiu who can fuck—show him that you’re his girl, his doll face.

tendrils of smoke waft over your break before dissipating in the air as if they were never there. you shudder as toji’s fingers reach your clit, rubbing sloppy circles on the sensitive nub even though your hips rear away. you still haven’t recovered from the overstimulation shiu caused with both his tongue and fingers, but that’s okay. he’ll have you cumming on his cock regardless.

with a deep groan, shiu cups the back of your head to keep you steady, and he shoves his hips forward, his cock slamming far down your throat. you gag, but he’s merciless—doesn’t give you more than a second to breathe before he’s at it again, setting a brutal pace that matches toji’s.

“ugh, fuck—want ya to cum on this cock for me, doll,” he groans, starting to slap his fingers against your clit. your legs kick out in reaction, and you hump your hips back against his hand. toji’s fucked you so hard you can’t even feel shiu’s cum dripping out of you anymore; he’s seconds away from replacing it with his own thick load and having you hold it inside you during lunch.

you nod dumbly on shiu’s cock, starting to sob louder as your own orgasm hurtles toward you. the high is absolutely inescapable, and your watery eyes meet shiu’s when you tip your head up. to the best of his abilities, he’s sweetly talking you through it, his words jumbled although you manage to hear a few clearly.

“how ‘bout we all cum together?” he suggests, wiping a stray tear from your face with the pad of his thumb as if he wasn’t the one that caused it.

“whatever, just as long she does first,” toji warns, his husky voice carrying a tenderness that only you can hear. “got that, shiu?”

like a cheshire cat, he smiles in response, sticking the worn down cigarette between his lips. he takes a drag and thrusts as deeply as he can go before holding your head down at his pelvis. you can hear his quiet moan beneath the clapping of skin against skin and all the other noise; his cock shoots ribbons of white down your throat and he shudders when you swallow it all eagerly, looking up at him for more.

toji throbs against your cervix, and he grabs your asscheek in one of his hands to tug and slap at. “‘m gonna cum, shit . . . wouldn’t ever wanna cum outside of this pretty pussy.”

his fingers work your clit until you’re arching your back and crying out, gushing on toji’s cock with no end in sight. wetness sprays against his pelvis and abs, and he groans, fucking you through it.

“such a mess, doll,” he groans, slipping a hand around your throat and pulling you off shiu’s cock. he instead pins you against his muscular chest, looking over your shoulder through hooded eyes at shiu, who hasn’t gone soft yet. “fuckin’ love it, though.”

toji places a few wet kisses to your neck, moving close to your ear. “so, doll face? where’s lunch gonna be? shiu’s treat, of course.”

YUKI & CHOSO.

“c’mon, you don’t really plan to just sit and watch us, do you?” yuki pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead with an enchanting smile playing on her lips. she playfully tilts her head to the side, eyeing choso and his seated form.

“well, i . . . you said you’d teach me,” he offers lamely, his reddened cheeks only darkening. he catches your eyes on him too and awkwardly crosses his legs, trying to hide the tent in his pants.

when you’d finally had enough of your boyfriend’s ineducable inexperience, you’d decided to bite the bullet and ask your best friend. yuki had been receptive from the start, her eyes gleaming while you’d explained the situation to a willing choso.

“oh, you won’t learn anything from over there,” she laughs, waving him over to the empty space beside her on the bed. “y’know, sex is pretty hands on.”

choso settles beside her, and the bedframe creaks as it accommodates the new weight. his fingers are trembling as they brush over the tender skin of your inner thighs, and his eyes widen when they come close to your dripping pussy. slick is smeared all over your skin and shining in the low light, utterly enticing to the both of them.

yuki spreads your legs further, and you draw in a sharp breath, lower lip slipping between your teeth.

“come closer,” she coos, pointing at your clit with a smirk. “that’s her clit . . . ‘s the secret to the female orgasm, choso. go on, give her a lick.”

without question, choso adjusts himself so he’s on his stomach, and he experimentally licks your clit. his silky tongue is flexed and nervous, dipping down further to taste the wetness trickling from your slit.

“f-fuck, choso,” you cry, insides lurching deliciously at the feeling. one look at yuki—her cheeks are colored pink, tongue unconsciously darting out occasionally to sweep over her lower lip—and another at choso, whose movements are gradually becoming more insistent, has a sweltering heat coiling deep in your stomach.

your hips jerk forward, pelvic bone nearly nailing him in the bridge of his nose, and choso’s head rears back in concern. “‘m sorry, are you—”

“our girl’s loving it,” yuki hisses, not even missing a beat as she cups the crown of his head, manicured nails digging into your boyfriend’s scalp as she forces his head back down. he doesn’t resist, letting out a muffled moan when his face lands directly in your pussy. slick smears across the lower half of his face and he feels the saliva pool on his tongue from how hungry he is.

choso’s nose bumps into your swollen clit, and a pitched whine tears from your throat. “need—i need more, please,” yuki settles onto her stomach beside choso, palm leaving his head. her fingers impatiently push past his chin, stroking lightly against your dripping pussy, and she quietly moans in delight.

you watch slack jawed as yuki pushes her fingers into her mouth, and her eyes squeeze shut. her hips grind against the bed, sheets rustling softly beneath her body. choso’s too caught up to notice, dark strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“cho—ah, shit—use your fingers, baby.”

your boyfriend obliges obediently, carefully pushing his fingers inside you and tugging back to let yuki take over with her mouth.

that heat inside you ignites into an inferno the second her mouth finds your clit. her lips lightly wrap around it and her tongue sweeps over the swollen bud; to tease you a little further, she lets her teeth occasionally nibble at it.

“this what you wanted?” choso pants, voice lilting curiously as his eyes rake over your body. he’s always been rather shameless when it comes to looking you over, but after this, he’ll finally be able to back it up with a hundred percent. the heave of your chest and parting of your bitten lips is enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it from you. his fingers curl inside you, pressing into a spot that scratches the unbearable itch in your brain perfectly.

“y-yes, cho!” and you’ve got stars in your eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure straining in your lower abdomen. “wanna—wanna cum on your face, please.”

“you heard her,” yuki quirks a brow, thumb working your clit in place of her tongue. she’s got a wildness in her eyes, with the lower half of her face sticky like choso’s. “let’s make our pretty girl cum together, hm?”

choso flushes all the way to his neck but nods, his two fingers pushing deeply over and over. a small sting accommodates the stretch, but is quickly forgotten when their faces push against one another’s in their rush for a taste. your slick is sweet like ambrosia, and they’re far too greedy to take turns with your cunt.

your clammy fingers push into yuki’s flowing tresses, while your other hand cups the crown of choso’s head and pushes him impossibly closer. her moans are softer than his as she finds your clit again, licking desperately, almost as if she’s begging you to cum.

meanwhile, choso places a hand above your pelvic bone, palm pressing into the soft skin—you’d mentioned that fingering wasn’t fingering without that small detail and he hasn’t forgotten it since—and it’s becoming difficult to breathe without panting. whiny moans fill the spaces in between your babbled words of bliss, and yuki knows that she won’t be able to get enough of you once this is over.

“ooh, fuck,” you sob, nearly choking on your words when your back uncontrollably arches off the bed. your fingers tighten in her hair and your nails scratch against choso’s scalp, making a mess of his once neatly tied buns. “yuki, ‘m so close, can’t hold it—”

she’d known what had been coming the moment you’d asked for choso’s fingers. she’s unable to stop herself from smiling against your clit, and choso’s tongue bumps into her own as he fights for a piece of you too. he’d initially been all for this so he could learn how to make you tick, what you really meant when you’d beg for his mouth.

his skin is hot as it pushes against hers, their cheeks puffing up a little as they fight for dominance over your clit. they’re shaking their heads all too much, and choso’s grunting while yuki does too, sending vibrations through your already sensitive clit. that pressure burns through your body, and your legs begin to tremble on either side of them as it grows more intense.

“hmph—cum for us, pretty girl.”

similarly, choso tugs away for a moment and lets out a huff, pressing down hard while his fingertips push into your sweet spot, “let us taste it, baby.”

their simple words do the trick, and with a gasp, your pussy begins to gush waterfalls right onto their faces. yuki eagerly slurps up the slick and cum from your cunt, with no regard for the way it’s still fluttering sensitively. choso barely gets a taste, only getting the tip of his tongue wet, and he pulls back with an annoyed scoff.

“yuki, that’s—”

“y-yuki!” you interrupt, voice breaking as you pathetically try to writhe away from her. with choso sitting back, she’s able to grab you by the hips and drag you close, insistently licking you through the dizzying high. “‘s too much, wait—choso!”

“yuki,” he scolds with a shake of his head, but makes no move to pull her away. honestly, if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to. “that’s no fair, i didn’t even get a taste. and she’s my girl.” choso’s words are pointed and a little whiny, and yuki just rolls her eyes.

“then come here ‘n try again. just look at her, she’s dying for more . . aren’t ya, pretty?”

[2cupids]

𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 … 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘

warnings — fem reader, bōndage, crėampies, megumi is aged up (18+). mdni (17+).

your big, hunky boyfriend that occasionally indulges in your little fantasies even though he’s not particularly fond of them, but he does it to keep you happy.

he’ll let you tie him to the bed with your pretty pink ribbons with a very obvious scowl on his face as you giggle while you “restrain” him.

he thinks it’s silly honestly, but he would never tell you that. plus, these “restraints” you’re using are some he could easily break out of. did you forget what he does for work?

for now, he’ll let you have your fun, thinking that you’re in control. until he gets tired, that is.

tired of the way you tease his cock, not taking him all the way in your mouth. tired of watching your tits bounce as you ride him but not being able to touch them. tired of the way this little bit of “control” you have over him is getting to your head.

all it’ll take is one weak pull of his wrists and these little “restraints” of yours will be broken, and he’ll be in control again.

he’ll have you pinned underneath him in the blink of an eye, slamming his hips into yours and forcing his fat, girthy cock into you. he’ll show you who really has the power and control.

he won’t stop until stop your pussy is sore and raw and his sticky cum is leaking out onto the bedsheets from the multiple loads he’s released in you. by the time he’s done with you, the only thing you’ll remember how to do is repeat his name, over and over again like a chant.

but he’ll let his princess have her way, just like he always does. only for a little while though.

geto, gojo, higuruma, hakari, kusakabe, megumi, nanami, naoya, noritoshi, shiu, sukuna, tengen, toji.

[loves4ge]

sending them nudes in the middle of an argument !

incl. nanami kento, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro

mdni ❌😔

[sodaneko]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[ryiju-muunie]

Your boyfriend who loves to watch you writhe in pleasure when you're in the depths of sleep. He loves to dip into your wetness and pry your folds apart to dive deeper. Tongue searching for your core and penetrating you deeply.

Fuck, you look so cute when your mouth parts. When you whimper and let out a little snore, trying to turn. But your boyfriend's hands are on your thighs, keeping them anchored by his face as he laps.

Your boyfriend loves to turn you around, bury your face in your pillow and pry your perfect ass cheeks apart. He loves to bury his face deep in your slit from behind, spreading your legs and letting his tongue tease your pussy.

It's so wet and throbbing underneath his teeth, as they pull on your vulva and nibble on the sensitive area. And God, it's so hot how your boyfriend dips from your ass to your cunt, savoring your flavor.

His tongue lolls circles around your anus, fluttering kisses on your hole before sucking your honeypot from behind, relishing in your savory juice along his cheeks.

You're none the wiser and fuck your boyfriend loves it.

[pseudowho]

Fright Night! Multi-Fic

The local fair has a Halloween fright night! Actors and zombies and terror, oh my! You drag your boyfriend to it...how does that go for you?

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma and Ino

18+, NSFW/suggestive in parts

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Gojo: Goes in smiling. Obnoxious laughter the whole way, and it only worsens when you're screaming at every single actor. As you cringe away from a dead-eyed bride, Gojo tickles your ribs until you squirm.

"Awww, baby, you scared? You're scared, right?"

As if in answer to his question, and received with heaps of cackles, you screech when some hideous creature with no teeth and bloodstained rags lunges at you from the dark.

"Satoru-- hold my hand--"

"--ahhh, yeah, okay...c'mere."

He pulls you in, and you scuttle to keep up with his long-legged stride. Still, the horrors continue and so does his mockery.

His teasing is relentless. Your fear is gradually replaced by indignant prickling anger. You take your chance, when it comes.

"You go in first," you beg Satoru, outside a horrifying old room full of dolls, "please, Satoru, check it out first before I go--"

He huffs as if actually bothered, but his shit-eating grin gives him away as he ambles inside. "Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a twi--"

You promptly shove the door closed with a bang! and yank a chair beneath the doorknob. You've heard rumours about this room; you are not disappointed. Satoru's voice sounds wary. The doorknob rattles just once, and you bite your lip with a smile.

"--hey...hey, babe, the...the dolls are moving."

Nervous laughter from the room. You try to hide the laughter in your voice.

"Oh yeah? You okay?"

"--OH, FU-- yeah, I'm fine. You know me, I'm the stronge--"

Satoru's voice cuts off with a profoundly girly screech, and the doorknob rattles violently while you twist with silent hilarity, tears streaming down your cheeks as you choke out.

"Ohhhh, nooo, Satoru, the door's stuck!"

More screeches, bangs and horrifying eerie noises, but you're too busy pressed forwards on your knees, laughing and laughing to the confused looks of passers-by.

"The dolls aren't dolls! THE DOLLS AREN'T DOLLS! BABE! LET ME OUT!"

A guy leans down to you, pointing at the door.

"Hey, uh...can we go in?"

You wipe tears of mirth from your eyes, bursting into laughter as you hear Satoru scream again.

"No...no, sorry buddy. This one's gonna be taken for a while, I think."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Geto: Total con-artist. Though he croons to you, cloudsoft and soothing through your horror, he's the puppet master. The horror engineer. The king of manipulation.

Every time another actor leaps out to set fear aflame in your veins, Suguru only pretends to be surprised; he isn't. He's already led you around this maze three times, anticipating the flow of the actors, and bleeding you for maximum terror.

He doesn't want to admit how his cock twitches against his thigh every time you break down into a whimpering mess; but, he can't deny that he's getting off on this.

"Shhhh, shhh shhh shhh," he soothes, one arm holding you to his side while his lips and nose ghost the shell of your ear, "shhh, baby, it's okay...it's all just pretend. I'm here. I've got you."

You look confused, your memory tangled by fear; "I...I could swear we've been this way already, Suguru--"

"Trust me. I know the way. These mazes are all samey. You're just getting mixed up, silly. Come on."

He has distracted you again, of course. He walks forwards, looking back to you with a smile. You frown, looking down at Suguru's two empty hands...and wondering whose hand you are holding.

The scream you scream, as Suguru seamlessly replaces himself with a white-eyed, rotten-fleshed actor, sends a dribble of pre-cum down his thigh.

He's just waiting until he can get you home, switch off all the lights, and continue the scare trail straight into bed.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Toji: Utterly unbothered, and smirks his way around. Some of the actors approach, take one look at him, and then turn tail to scare someone else. Anyone else.

But halfway round, he gets bored, and disappears. You're left, abandoned; alone. Toji wants to get in on the action.

You're surrounded by screams, and silence, and dry ice in the dark, and you turn on the spot, spinning, frantic, your heart pounding, your tongue dry, sweat dripping down the small of your back--

Until the sound of metal on metal. Something scraping along a wall. Footsteps heavier than your own heartbeat. And, the one small light source you have is blocked, as a monster of a man in a boiler suit, mask and axe fills the doorway.

The whimper that leaves you is audible; "...Toji?" As if you could be so lucky.

Silence. His heavy, laboured breathing. The footsteps begin towards you, slowly at first...before he runs.

You run, too, shrieking like a banshee, too loud for you to hear the occasional laugh beneath the monstrous man's roars. You find yourself chased down to a dead end, your back and palms flat against the wall, chest heaving, and he approaches slowly, watching you behind his mask.

The blade of the (very blunt) axe strokes down, down, down the centre line of your torso to stop just over your sex, and you whimper, mortified by the trickle of arousal that creeps through you.

"T-Toji--" You whisper to yourself, "T-Toji, where the fuck--please please please help me--oh my god ohmygod ohmygod--"

A shiver seems to go through the man, who leans down and whispers, in a voice so familiar that your jaw drops.

"Like bein' chased, huh? What about bein' caught? You like bein' caught?"

Judging by the way his boiler suit tents, Toji likes it, at least.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Higuruma: Has not got the mental wherewithal for this, today. Perhaps another day, but not today. And it infuriates him, when his colourful imagination and adrenaline threaten to overtake his inherent logic that this is all just make-believe.

"For fuck's sa-- pull yourself together, Hiromi," he groans as another horrifying creature-person scuttles past in a contortionist twist. You're carried on his back, squealing and kicking into him, while he huffs at you with beleaguered fondness.

Every time something makes him jump, a noise of bewildered shock bursts out, and he growls at himself, running his hand back through his hair and pressing his forehead against a nearby wall.

A few actors, however, take one look at him and treat him as part of the furniture. Hiromi frowns.

"Some of them think I look scared enough, apparently."

You mumbled into his neck. "Scary enough, I think you mean. Look--"

You gently turn his face to a flaking full length mirror. Hiromi drinks himself in; still in a dishevelled suit and tie, sweatstains, coffee drip on his white shirt, and dark circles that surely have to be make-up.

Suddenly, it clicks.

"Ahhh," Hiromi breathes putting you down to your screeching indignation; he doesn't notice as you press yourself to the wall, instead rubbing his face and clothes on a discarded 'bloody' rag.

By the time he's finished, stepping slowly over to you, chin tilted down and looking down at you with beetle-black eyes, you feel a shiver running through you. He's...frightening. Clearly some awful spectral businessman, covered in blood and dirt and horror.

"You...wow. Yeah, Hiromi, you look...great."

Hiromi shrugs you onto his back with a satisfied little chuckle, and the rest of your scare trail is relatively unhindered. Passers-by skirt round him with a wary gaze, and the sinister little smile on his face only adds to the effect.

You stroke one finger down his chest, sultry and whispering.

"Hey, Hiro...stay like this, later, for...activities."

"You are utterly twisted, my love. I absolutely can."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Ino: Just as scared as you. Absolute chocolate teapot. You'd have done better taking a puppy with you, probably, because the actors approach Ino thinking he can take it, and he absolutely can't.

If Takuma could have jumped into your arms, a la Scooby Doo, he would have. Alas, he simply pulls his balaclava down in groaning terror. When other visitors then scream at him, too, thinking he's part of the crew, he raises his balaclava back up with a suppressed sob.

"Baby-- I can't take it-- I'm too weak-- my heart--"

"Takuma, I--" You shriek, too, when some ghastly woman in a bloodstained nightdress appears. She runs for you both, and you and Takuma sprint away, hand-in-hand, half-laughing, and half-crying.

By the time you round a corner, slamming the door to trap yourselves in a dark room, you and Ino hold each other, panting in the gloom. You feel a familiar hard press against your belly, and look up at Takuma with utter disbelief. He blushes, his lower lip drawing up and looking aside with a grumble.

"--are you excited, Takuma--"

"--aww, shit, babe, you know he don't make any sense--"

His words cut off with a strangled moan as you grip him through his pants, and, biting your lip, lower to your knees. Takuma's jaw drops, his cock twitching up as it's released. You whisper up at him in the dark.

"...emotional support blow-job?"

"F-fuck yeah, emotional support blow-job, I can be your hero after that--"

A few people come to investigate the ghostly little moans coming from your room, but Ino blocks the door with one trembling, jittering foot until the moans crescendo.

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ how they react to your bad cooking

ᨳ♡₊➳ feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, higuruma, shiu

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: request from this ask!

₊⊹. Satoru Gojo

It started the day you proudly handed Gojo your newest culinary creation. A dish you confidently described as 'innovative'. Gojo, sitting at your kitchen table like he’s about to be on Hot Ones, stares down at the plate you just served like it’s an unexploded landmine.

You made spaghetti. Or, rather, a version of spaghetti that would legally have to be called 'Tomato-Inspired Pasta Chaos' in 36 different countries. The noodles are sticking together. The sauce? Questionable. Chunky in places it shouldn’t be chunky. Is that… is that cinnamon?

Gojo pokes it with his fork like it’s going to fight back. “So, like, was this cooked under normal human conditions? Like, with fire? Or a curse technique?”

“I followed a recipe!”

"Is it supposed to be smoking?"

"That's steam," you assured him. It definitely wasn't steam.

He takes a deep breath and dramatically scoops up a forkful with the bravery of a man about to bungee jump into an active volcano.

The second the food hit his tongue, he paused. Like, really paused. Statue-still. Then, ever-so-slowly, he chewed. And chewed. And continued to chew.

"Is it good?" you asked hesitantly.

He swallowed with a visible struggle. That bite physically transported him to the astral plane. He saw God. God told him to DoorDash. "Define 'good'."

₊⊹. From that day forward, Gojo developed an impressive array of tactics to cope with your cooking. He masters the art of distraction, pointing dramatically out the window, yelling, "OH MY GOD, IS THAT A CURSE?!" When you inevitably look away, your carefully cooked food mysteriously teleports from his plate into a potted plant or the bin. After a while, you begin to wonder why all your houseplants suddenly keep dying.

₊⊹. When Yuji enthusiastically comes over for dinner once, Gojo immediately redirects your culinary efforts onto the unsuspecting student. And Yuji, gullible and perpetually hungry, bites in, only to instantly make eye contact with you, looking betrayed, scandalized, and utterly tragic. Gojo laughs, completely unfazed, and offers a sympathetic pat. "It's a growth experience!"

₊⊹. At one point, your cooking gets so atrociously bad that Gojo begins miming Oscar-worthy death scenes every single time he takes a bite. He staggers across the kitchen floor, clutching his throat, gasping, "Tell... Megumi... I’m proud of him... and Yuta... he was always my favorite!"

You just sigh, rolling your eyes while he fake-collapses on the floor, legs sticking straight up like a cartoon character. After about ten minutes of complete silence, he peeks one eye open and whispers, "Are you grieving yet?"

₊⊹. Eventually, after another disastrous culinary experiment leaves Gojo dramatically collapsed against your kitchen chair, you cross your arms with an exasperated sigh. "Satoru, seriously, it can't be that awful every single time."

Peering at you over the rims of his sunglasses, Gojo groans theatrically, as if the very idea pains him. "You’re right. Sometimes it’s worse."

You glare at him, mock offended. "It's not THAT bad."

He scoffs, draping himself across your lap like a giant, overly dramatic cat. "The curses I’ve fought pale in comparison. But don't worry," he smirks, eyes twinkling behind his sunglasses, "I'll always heroically sacrifice myself to your cooking disasters. It’s what the strongest sorcerer does."

"You’re an idiot," you mutter, gently running fingers through his messy hair.

He smiles smugly, tipping his head back to meet your eyes. "Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

₊⊹. Suguru Geto

When you first present Geto with your cooking, he observes the plate with his typical calm, pleasant smile. The one that hides a thousand judgmental thoughts. His eyes flicker subtly to you, then back to the suspiciously grey lump on the plate.

"Interesting," he starts slowly, cautiously prodding the meal with his chopsticks as though testing a highly volatile chemical. "Did the recipe specifically mention this color?"

"Well... it said golden brown," you mumble sheepishly. "I improvised."

He nods gently, like a supportive parent acknowledging a child’s drawing that looks suspiciously like nightmare fuel. "Ah, creative liberty. Bold choice."

Then, without hesitation, he pops a chunk into his mouth.

You hold your breath, watching anxiously as he chews. But Geto’s face doesn’t change. Not a single twitch, not the slightest grimace. He swallows smoothly and nods at you approvingly. "Interesting texture. Reminds me of... something familiar."

₊⊹. From then on, it becomes painfully clear that your cooking doesn't faze Geto at all. No matter how horrendously bad your dishes are, Geto remains unfazed. One day, after tasting a stew with the exact consistency of glue, he remarks calmly, "You know, this might actually pair well with zaru soba."

When you doubtfully ask, "Really?", he smiles peacefully, eyes closed. "No, not at all. But it's the thought that counts."

₊⊹. At one point, he decides to teach you basic recipes. Simple stuff like miso soup or rice balls. Unfortunately, his instructions become increasingly cryptic and philosophical, like, "Cooking is much like life. Just throw it all together and hope no one notices the mistakes."

You stare at him blankly, ladle in hand. He smiles reassuringly. "Just kidding. Please follow the recipe exactly. I'm begging you."

₊⊹. You start finding mysteriously placed cookbooks everywhere. On your pillow, in the bathroom, even tucked inside your bag. When confronted, Geto merely shrugs, sipping tea elegantly. "It must be fate gently nudging you toward culinary salvation."

₊⊹. One night, Nanako and Mimiko visit. Your attempt at cookies turns into charcoal disks. The girls stare, wide-eyed and silently horrified. Geto, completely unfazed, picks one up and crunches loudly, maintaining full eye contact with you. "Crispy. Like edible charcoal. Good for digestion."

Nanako whispers softly to Mimiko, "He’s built different," as if witnessing a supernatural feat.

₊⊹. Finally, you corner Geto one day, genuinely confused and slightly insulted by his immunity to your horrible cooking. "Suguru, seriously, how are you never grossed out? Are your taste buds, like, broken?"

He looks at you fondly, calmly setting down his tea. "Nothing you could ever make would come close to the culinary horrors I have willingly endured. Trust me, this is child's play."

You gape at him. "What kind of culinary horrors have you experienced?"

He pauses, serene smile unwavering. "I have eaten things," he says carefully, "that make your cooking seem Michelin-star worthy."

You don't fully understand, but he seems so genuinely sincere that you grudgingly accept the compliment.

Geto pats your head affectionately, amusement glinting softly in his eyes. "But if it makes you happy, keep experimenting. I will endure it all. For science. And love, of course."

₊⊹. Kento Nanami

Nanami always imagined a peaceful life: coming home from work, cooking dinner, sipping whiskey, and peacefully reading a book. Until he met you. Now, coming home meant playing culinary Russian roulette and hoping tonight’s dinner wouldn’t send him directly to the ER.

The first time you cook for Nanami, he walks in looking uncharacteristically hopeful. He neatly folds his blazer, rolls up his sleeves, and sits at your tiny kitchen table like a polite guest at a hostage negotiation.

You place the food in front of him. “Tada!” you announce proudly.

Nanami’s eyebrow lifts slightly as he observes your creation with the intensity of a forensic scientist. He quietly adjusts his sunglasses, then softly mutters under his breath, “Well… it certainly has personality.”

You beam at him. He sighs internally, offering a solemn prayer to whatever god looks after tired salarymen-turned-sorcerers.

He takes a bite, chewing carefully. His expression barely shifts, except his jaw tenses slightly. Finally swallowing, he sets down his chopsticks, clears his throat, and nods solemnly. "It's edible."

“That’s it? Edible?” you pout.

He stares at you very seriously. “Edible is good.”

₊⊹. Your dishes become a battlefield. Each night, Nanami quietly eats, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, face unreadable. It becomes almost impressive how calmly he approaches your meals, treating them like yet another inevitable overtime shift. When Gojo asks how he survives, Nanami calmly responds, "My previous job prepared me for this level of suffering."

₊⊹. You ask for feedback once. Big mistake.

After thoughtful chewing, Nanami calmly delivers his verdict. "Your meal tastes like how overtime feels. Painful, unnecessary, and slightly disrespectful."

You stare, offended but strangely impressed. He pats your hand reassuringly. "I appreciate your effort. But next time, let's stick to recipes."

₊⊹. One night, after tasting yet another questionable casserole, Nanami hands you a fancy cookbook wrapped neatly with a bow. "What's this?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

"A gentle suggestion," he says plainly. "For the safety of our digestive systems. And relationship."

You stare blankly, and he nods solemnly, "It's a romantic gesture. Trust me."

₊⊹. You overhear Nanami murmuring quietly to himself as he suffers through another of your meals.

"Malaysia," he sighs wistfully, eyes distant and dreamy. "White beaches. Street food stalls. No kitchen appliances. Peace."

₊⊹. One night, after yet another tragic dinner, you sigh dramatically, slumping across from him. "Kento, I appreciate that you put up with this every night. Why haven't you left me yet?"

He pauses, carefully setting down his utensils, face impossibly serious. "If I survived being a salaryman and daily exposure to Gojo Satoru, surely your cooking won't break me."

You frown. "That's sweet but… rude?"

His lips twitch into a tiny, almost invisible smile. "Take it as a compliment. My continued survival speaks volumes about my dedication to you."

You can't help but laugh. He reaches across the table, squeezing your hand gently. "Besides," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly warm, "a life without minor inconveniences wouldn't be realistic."

You smile softly. "Are you calling me inconvenient?"

"Only your cooking," he clarifies immediately. "You, on the other hand, are extremely worth it."

You're stunned into silence. Nanami clears his throat awkwardly, avoiding your eyes, the tips of his ears slightly pink.

"Aw, Kento!" you tease, "That was almost romantic!"

He sighs deeply, pretending to be irritated. "Don't get used to it."

You lean forward, grinning smugly. "Too late."

He groans quietly, but the tiny smile that quirks his lips betrays him entirely.

₊⊹. Choso Kamo

Choso is… different. Sweet, earnest, adorably intense, but still fundamentally… different. Because even though he theoretically knows how being a human works, thanks to the vessel he took over, he still hasn’t quite mastered the whole actually existing as a human thing. And it really shows when it comes to your cooking.

The first time Choso experiences your culinary 'skills,' he sits stiffly at your dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him with a carefully neutral expression. You smile proudly at your concoction: it's grey-ish, ominous, and vaguely smoking, but hey, you tried.

He frowns slightly. "From my vessel’s memories, I remember food typically being... less aggressive?"

"Choso, it's not aggressive. It's innovative," you insist, holding a fork up to his mouth encouragingly. "Go on, try it!"

He stares suspiciously at the fork like it personally insulted his brothers, before dutifully opening his mouth. His eyes widen slightly, eyebrows furrowing as he chews slowly, cautiously. Then he swallows and takes a deep, slow breath.

"I see. My vessel's memories must be incomplete," he murmurs very seriously, meeting your expectant gaze. "I don't recall humans regularly eating food that tastes like cleaning agent?"

Your horrified look makes him pause. "Ah. Social tact. I apologize, I’m still adjusting."

₊⊹. Yuji stops by unexpectedly and reaches to try a bite from your suspicious casserole. Choso instantly intercepts his hand, expression gravely serious. "Little brother, you mustn't. Your human body can’t withstand this."

Yuji looks bewildered. You look betrayed. Choso calmly explains, "It's my duty as eldest to protect you."

₊⊹. Choso, genuinely concerned, secretly browses the internet for solutions. You catch him on your laptop at 3 a.m, gravely searching 'is cooking supposed to make people sad'.

You sigh dramatically and close the laptop gently. "Choso, please stop."

He nods solemnly. "I understand. Truth hurts."

₊⊹. Gojo casually jokes, "So, did their cooking try to assassinate you again?"

Choso instantly goes rigid, glaring intensely at Gojo. "Do not speak negatively about their efforts."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? So you enjoyed it?"

"Absolutely not," Choso deadpans. "But only I can acknowledge their food’s threats to my existence."

₊⊹. After an especially questionable meal, you jokingly sigh, "Maybe cooking just isn’t for me. I'm a failure."

Choso looks genuinely distressed, immediately reaching across to grip your hand. "Please don't be upset. Failure is natural. Humans fail constantly."

You blink slowly. "Thanks?"

He squeezes your hand encouragingly. "Yes. Failing is part of human charm."

₊⊹. Eventually, feeling guilty for repeatedly poisoning your sweet (if socially inept) partner, you timidly ask, "Choso, do you actually enjoy anything I cook?"

He takes a long pause, genuinely thinking, before responding solemnly, "Humans appreciate effort more than results."

You sigh. "Choso, that's not answering my question."

He tilts his head thoughtfully, dark eyes softening slightly as he looks at you. "I enjoy that you try. I believe that's very important. I will eat anything you create."

"That's sweet," you mumble shyly.

He shrugs earnestly. "It’s simple logic. If Yuji can withstand Sukuna, surely I can survive your cooking."

You burst into laughter, feeling strangely comforted that no matter how badly you fail in the kitchen, Choso will be there. Awkwardly and confused, but unwaveringly supportive.

₊⊹. Toji Fushiguro

Toji is many things. Cold assassin, ruthless gambler, the bane of the Zenin clan's existence. But above all, he's a man who appreciates good food. Meat, offal, a juicy steak grilled just right. Your cooking, however, is none of those things. Your cooking is the culinary equivalent of stepping on a Lego. Painful, distressing, and definitely not something you signed up for willingly.

The first time Toji sits down to dinner with you, he eyes the questionable lump of 'food' you've proudly placed before him, dark brows furrowing skeptically.

"You made this?" he asks, voice devoid of emotion, poking the dish suspiciously as if it might leap up and attack him.

You nod excitedly. "It's my special recipe!"

He leans back, crossing muscular arms over his chest. "Huh. Special. You sure that's the word you wanna use?"

You glare. He shrugs casually, picking up his chopsticks and bravely placing a bite into his mouth without hesitation. The moment he tastes it, you see a rare expression flash across his usually unbothered face.

Genuine shock.

"How is it?" you ask nervously.

Toji slowly swallows, locking eyes with you seriously. "Y'know, people've paid me good money to assassinate others. Next time someone hires me, I'm just gonna send you with this instead."

"Toji!"

He smirks lazily, raising an eyebrow. "What? It's more efficient than knives."

₊⊹. One afternoon, you discover Toji suspiciously packaging leftovers into small containers. When confronted, he smirks calmly, completely deadpan. "Selling 'em on the black market as poison. Client said it's more effective than cyanide."

You glare at him flatly. He chuckles dryly. "Relax, I'm kidding. Not about the poison part, though."

₊⊹. Even the worm-like inventory curse that literally lives inside Toji’s body refuses to consume your cooking. The first (and only) time Toji tries feeding it leftovers, the creature spits it back out immediately, squirming dramatically on the floor.

Toji just stares at it blankly. "Traitor," he growls.

₊⊹. After another catastrophic meal, Toji sighs, rubbing his temples like he just lost yet another bet. "Eating your cooking is like gambling. Low odds of survival, but damn, what a rush."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks."

He smirks. "Welcome. I'm starting to see why I keep losing all those horse races. I'm using up all my luck surviving dinner."

₊⊹. One night, after forcing down yet another questionable casserole, Toji leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

"You know," he begins dryly, "the Zenin clan threw me in a pit full of curses when I was a kid. Thought it was the worst thing they'd ever done to me."

You pause, staring at him. "And?"

He smirks lazily, dark eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "Then I tasted your food."

You toss a spoon at him in outrage. He dodges smoothly, chuckling softly. "Relax. I’d still pick you over them any day. At least your cooking doesn't monologue about cursed energy."

You pout, reluctantly softening. He notices and reaches across the table, tapping your chin gently with his finger, voice low and teasing. "Besides, I thrive in dangerous environments. Keeps things interesting."

"You mean dangerous because of the food or dangerous because I'm gonna kill you if you don't shut up?"

He grins slyly. "Bit of both."

₊⊹. Hiromi Higuruma

Higuruma has always had a knack for calmly handling high-pressure situations. Defending impossible court cases, facing certain doom within cursed games. Piece of cake. But facing your cooking? That might actually kill him.

The first time you cooked for him, Higuruma’s weary eyes regarded the food with gentle apprehension. He politely inspected it from all angles, as though carefully examining an obscure piece of evidence.

You nervously watched him. “Is it alright?”

He paused thoughtfully, tilting his head, brows knitted slightly. "Interesting."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Interesting… good?"

"Interesting," he repeated carefully, "in that this dish defies several established laws of physics."

"It's supposed to be pasta," you admit, deflating slightly.

His eyes widen just a fraction, a hint of panic briefly flickering across his tired face before he schools his expression into a supportive, blandly reassuring mask. "Of course," he murmurs smoothly, gently patting your shoulder. "Let's... try it together."

You both eat silently. After an incredibly tense pause, Higuruma slowly swallows, sets down his fork, and politely coughs. "Creative," he states seriously. "Certainly breaks conventional culinary laws."

"Is that good or bad?" you ask anxiously.

He smiles tiredly, but fondly. "We'll call it a mistrial."

₊⊹. Higuruma starts keeping a small notebook near the kitchen, diligently taking notes after each new dish.

You sneakily peek one night, horrified at what he’s written: "Experiment #26: Soup (?). Temperature: Lukewarm. Flavor profile: Deeply unsettling. Observations: Possibly sentient."

You gasp loudly, "Hey!"

He looks up calmly, “It’s purely objective documentation. I’m sure the food appreciates my honesty.”

₊⊹. When asked how your meal tastes, he often sidesteps elegantly, offering cryptic answers instead.

"This stew," he begins thoughtfully, holding a spoon dramatically, "makes me question if objective reality even exists."

You blink suspiciously. "Hiromi. Did you just say my stew makes you dissociate?"

He nods gravely. "Precisely. Quite impressive, actually."

₊⊹. “Sometimes,” he murmured after a particularly unhinged omelet, “I think your cooking represents the postmodern condition.”

You stared. “What?”

He motioned vaguely with his chopsticks. “Chaotic. Absurd. Unapologetically hostile to meaning. I respect that.”

₊⊹. One evening, genuinely frustrated, you slump across from him. "Hiromi, just admit it. My cooking sucks."

He carefully sets down his utensils, eyes softening slightly. "Perhaps. But everyone has their strengths. Yours simply… manifest in areas other than cooking."

"Like what?" You challenge, skeptical.

He pauses, then gently answers, "Like persistence. It takes remarkable tenacity to continue creating edible tragedies night after night without losing hope."

You groan, laughing despite yourself. "That was the weirdest compliment ever."

He smiles faintly, one of his rare, genuine smiles, and quietly admits, "Truthfully, your enthusiasm makes even the most terrifying meals bearable. At this point, I’d miss it if you stopped."

You smile softly, genuinely touched. "Really?"

He nods solemnly. "Yes. My life would feel disappointingly stable without your daily culinary chaos."

"Aww," you tease. "You’d miss the food poisoning?"

He tilts his head, eyes glinting with quiet humor. "I’d miss the thrill of surviving it."

Laughing, you throw a napkin at him, which he catches effortlessly, setting it down carefully, lips twitching upward gently.

₊⊹. Shiu Kong

Shiu Kong is a man of questionable morals, minimal expectations, and plenty of street-smarts. In his line of work, he’s seen some serious stuff: curses, assassins, shady deals, Toji Fushiguro’s unpaid ramen tabs. But none of that could’ve prepared him for your cooking.

Your cooking is… controversial. Shiu knows it, you know it, the smoke alarm in your apartment (which screams in agony every night) knows it. Yet somehow, against his better judgment and entirely by accident, Shiu has become your unofficial food critic.

Shiu sits at your tiny table, suit jacket carefully hung on the chair behind him, cigarette extinguished (mostly out of concern that your food might spontaneously combust if exposed to open flame). He stares at the plate you present him, face unreadable.

“Wow,” he finally says dryly, raising an eyebrow at your oddly gelatinous creation. “Did your fridge explode, or was this deliberate?”

You pout indignantly, arms crossed. “It’s an authentic recipe from the internet.”

He hums skeptically. “Was the internet angry at you personally?”

You glare at him, and he sighs deeply, picking up the fork cautiously, as though it might detonate upon contact.

“I better get hazard pay for this,” he mutters, bravely stabbing a fork into the dish. He hesitates, briefly staring at the forkful as though making peace with his life choices, before finally taking a bite.

Chewing slowly, he nods thoughtfully. "Honestly? Tastes like crime."

You glare. "Excuse me?"

"Crime," he repeats casually, shrugging. "Illegal. Punishable. Possibly violates human rights."

"You're exaggerating," you mumble, arms crossed.

He gives you a genuinely amused half-smirk. "Sweetheart, I've worked with criminals for twenty years. Believe me, this is criminal."

₊⊹. From then on, Shiu’s sarcastic yet charmingly detached responses become a routine part of your questionable cooking.

He watches you cook once, genuinely puzzled.

"Strange," he muses out loud, "I always thought curse users were my most dangerous clients."

You look up, offended. "I'm not dangerous!"

He gives you a deeply skeptical look. "That's exactly what someone dangerous would say."

₊⊹. One evening, Shiu walks in, cigarette dangling from his lips. He pauses at your kitchen doorway, staring blankly at the mess. Pots, pans, unidentified stains everywhere. He whistles softly. "Wow, I’ve seen actual murder scenes cleaner than this."

You turn, unamused. "Very funny."

He shrugs easily. "I'm serious. You want me to call a cleanup crew, or is the carnage still ongoing?"

₊⊹. Shiu, ever the career criminal, genuinely ponders using your dishes to extort information from his underworld associates. After tasting another tragic attempt, he eyes you seriously. "You ever considered a side job in interrogation?"

You roll your eyes. He insists gravely, "I know guys who’d spill their guts after one spoonful."

₊⊹. Eventually, your bad cooking becomes weirdly endearing to him. Somehow, choking down your meals each night becomes his strangest, most irrational sign of affection.

"You don't actually have to eat this, you know," you say softly one evening, watching him calmly choke down burnt stir-fry.

He glances up, eyes surprisingly soft. "I've willingly babysat Toji’s kid. This isn't even top ten worst decisions I've made."

You laugh despite yourself. He sets down his fork and reaches out, awkwardly patting your hand with surprising tenderness. "Listen, I handle curse users. Compared to that, your cooking is... charmingly manageable."

You snort loudly, shaking your head. "Shiu, that's literally the worst compliment ever."

He smirks gently, voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Fine. Your cooking sucks, but you're kinda cute. Better?"

You grin, nudging him playfully. "Better."

He sighs dramatically, lighting another cigarette. "Just promise me you'll never cook professionally. I don’t have enough shady connections to bail you out from mass poisoning charges."

[glitchyporcelaindoll]

jjk dilfs' preferred places to have sex with you

characters: toji fushiguro, hiromi higuruma, nanami kento, shiu kong, atsuya kusakabe, and special mention: masamichi yaga cause he's so fine ugh

notes: smut, gn!reader

a/n: completely MY opinion. y'all can have different opinions and suggestions too cause these people are literally fictional so pls don't come at me.

toji fushiguro

- in his arms

this man is so fucking feral, built like a literal damned tank. even after a tiring day, he'd still have the energy to have sex with you in his arms no matter how much you weigh. he doesn't really care about the place if i'm being honest. as long as you're whimpering for him to go slow, scratching his back, clutching his biceps and moaning his name, he's fine with doing it anywhere. he'd also sometimes hold you in a way that your back is facing him as both of you can see each other in the wall mirror, he likes to see your hole stretch and squeeze his dick inside, would tease you so much about how well you take him in. probably falls asleep with his dick inside you, liquids mixed on the sheets, his hands gripping you tightly.

hiromi higuruma

- couch/office desk

this overworking lawyer collapses on the couch almost every other day and if you're curled up beside him, he wouldn't be able to resist and under a minute you'd find yourself bouncing on his lap, his tie loosely hanging which comes off after a while too, but you like to see him with his suit on during sex. and when you visit him at his office to give him lunch or something, he'd sometimes make you bend over on his office desk and pound inside you with a steady pace and maybe if he's feeling it, he'd also use his judge gavel on you, but he's quite unexpectedly rough with it. would clean you up after though, like he's very thoughtful about it cause he is.

nanami kento

- bed/hotel suite

he likes sex to be structured and slow that let's every single emotion seek in. he'd worship you during it, praising you every now and then, making you come embarassingly quick. if he's tired, he'd go deeper than usual, but not move at all, just you with his dick inside you and his head resting in the crook of your neck. he'd prefer you facing him during sex, cause he'd have this rarest and gentlest smile at the sight of you being flustered for him. also nanami's an aftercare freak, wouldn't let you go anywhere before he cleans you and the sheets up so when you wake up in the morning, you'd be wrapped in his cologne.

shiu kong

- countertops/semi-public places/his office

likes to see you spread your legs for him on the kitchen counter and would go in without prep every single time, but he's very professional with it. shiu's also the type of guy to feel the thrill in semi-public places like the back of the bars, alleyways or his car's backseat. would be dangerously calculative and slick when he's in such places, and would instantly get a boner if you squeeze him too hard due to the fear of getting caught. he'd like to slide a vibrator inside you when he's on a business call and watch you squirm on his lap or the couch, while you struggle to hide your moans and whimpers. shiu has a very filthy mouth during sex which apparently turns you on a lot. would literally fix your clothes so softly like he didn't completely rail you out of your mind a few minutes ago.

atsuya kusakabe

-bed/shower

he's unexpectedly submissive. very submissive. kind of similar to nanami when it comes to sex, he'd like it slow. he'd come home being all grumpy but soften up when he sees you. he's a bit awkward during it, but eventually get's used to it and whispers sweet praises to you. also would love to place kisses on your nape and neck as he pounds inside you from the back in the shower. also is very much into lazy morning sex, and if you'd initiate it? he's done, would be blushing the whole time and deny it grumpily if you call it out. likes to keep his lips attached to yours during it, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

masamichi yaga

- office/gym mat

is secretly a freak. his demeanor changes completely when you're on top of him, bouncing unknowingly on his lap rambling about things while he is checking files or sewing his plushies. would get a boner instantly and the next thing you know, you're bent over on his desk and your legs are trembling cause this man is massive. and he'd like it when you join him along in his gym sessions, even if you just watch him. it ends up with you initiating this after getting turned on seeing him all sweaty and groaning. literally almost all of his gym sessions end up with him pounding inside you mercilessly as you're kneeling helplessly on the mat.

scenarios © @glitchyporcelaindoll

dividers © @cafekitsune

manga header © pinterest

[holeforzenin]

Kento loves posting couple photos and selfies of the two of you together on Instagram because he wants the whole world to see just how beautiful his dear girl was, he posts them all the time and everyone likes and comments about how adorable the two of you look smiling together, even Gojo teases him about it in the comments.

To everyone you two were this shy, innocent well-put-together couple but what they didn't know was that the sweet darling blond had the hem of your pretty sundress all brunched up on his lap with his cock stuffed soo deep to the hilt inside your warm fluttery walls, where you had huffs of blond pubic hair grazing against your clit soo deliciously that had you grinding against him needily for friction.

In fact about 80% of the selfies you two post together he always has his cock nestled inside of you because he thinks it's such a perfect moment to take a photo with his pretty girl because you look soo perfect and sweet while you're keeping your loving husband's cock, snugged and warm.

He'd be planting soft gentle kisses on your neck trailing up to your ear before whispering "You look so cute right now my love, why don't we take a quick photo yeah?" and then you get all shy telling him just one photo as your cheeks start heating up. His cock twitches against your walls relentlessly as he taps "post" for everyone to see. It's like your dirty little secret that no one else knew but the two of you, They assume that the you two were this innocent and novice couple smiling together happily, not having a single clue what was happening just mere inches below the camera.

[cumironi]

BOTTOMS OUT, BRAT TAX jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

summary. what’s the price that comes from being a brat? stay on the corner? orrrrrrr... getting fuc$ by your boyfriend hard, mean? probably the second that’s why being a brat is your that time of the year.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, 23 you & 31 them, age-gap, brat tamer, mean, overstimulated, cock-drūnk, dirty talk, hair pulling, titie$/pu$$y slap(s), $pitting / $pit(s) in mouth, chocking, degrading, daddy-kink, very rough, mean praise, matīng presses, MARATHONS, brēeding mention, dūmbifícation, fíngering, cūmplay, swēaring. it might be too rough or disturbing for some people, read on your own awareness.

GOJO SATORU

the first thing he did when he walked in the door wasn’t kiss you. wasn’t hug you. wasn’t talk.

he unbuttoned his sleeves, rolled them up past his forearms, hung his jacket on the rack, and stared at you.

you on the bed. knees tucked under you, hair a mess, some dumb little tank that didn’t even cover your tits right, nipples hard and begging. phone still in hand. watching him like you didn’t already know what you’d done.

“how was work, baby?” you chirped. smug. god, smug.

his jaw ticked. he didn’t answer. just walked forward, slowly, fingers unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. all that pale, lean muscle. eyes like glass, but fire underneath.

you bit your lip. he noticed. always noticed.

“you think you’re cute,” he muttered, pulling the phone from your hand and tossing it somewhere. “think you can spend the whole goddamn week being a brat and i’ll just kiss your forehead and call you princess?”

you tilted your head. innocent. false.

“aren’t i your princess?”

he laughed. once. bitter and dark and mean.

“no, sweetheart. tonight, you’re my fucking problem.”

he grabbed you by the back of the neck and shoved you down on the bed, chest to mattress, ass up. panties soaked. you hadn’t even pretended not to touch yourself waiting for him. he could see it. smell it. the heat pulsing from your cunt was obscene.

“been teasing me for days,” he murmured. voice low. affectionate. like it was all just a joke between lovers. but his hands said otherwise. they yanked your panties down, spread your legs, palmed your ass like he owned it. “flaunting this little hole, moaning when i’m on the phone, fuckin’ grinding on me during movie night—”

a pause. breath tickled your ear.

“you been begging for this, baby.”

you shivered. “i missed you…”

his hand cracked against your ass. smack. you jolted.

“no, you didn’t. you missed my cock.”

he bent down, kissed the welt he left.

“but i missed you, too. fuckin’ brat and all.”

he reached between your legs, dragged two fingers through your folds. wet. soaked, needy, messy. you cried out, hips jerking, but he pinned you down easily.

“so pretty like this,” he whispered, voice soft like silk wrapped around steel. “so dumb for me. already wet and you haven’t even felt the stretch.”

you moaned when he shoved both fingers in. schlick. curling them up, slow, slow, mean.

“you know how many times i thought about this pussy this week? sittin’ in my office, watching your texts pop up—‘miss you daddy,’ ‘thinking about your dick,’—you really thought i wasn’t gonna make you pay?”

you whimpered into the sheets. “i wanna pay… please make me.”

his voice broke, almost tender. “fucking hell, baby. you were made to be ruined.”

he took his cock out, dragged it up your slit, wetting the head with your slick. you gasped when he pushed in—not fast. no mercy, but no rush either. like he wanted you to feel it.

“so tight. always so fucking tight. greedy little hole doesn’t wanna let me go.”

you moaned loud, hands fisting the sheets, body arching, already clenching.

“shh, baby,” he cooed, fucking you slow, mean, deep. every stroke brushing your walls perfectly. “let daddy do the talking now.”

you nodded, face buried in the blankets. eyes wide, leaking. he leaned down, pressed his chest to your back, mouth by your ear.

“gonna fill you up,” he whispered. “make you forget your own name. you’ll be just my sweet little fuckdoll, stuffed full of cum, dripping all over the sheets like a good girl.”

you sobbed. “please… harder…”

he obliged. slap of hips to ass. pace brutal now. no buildup. just hard, filthy fucking, his hand curled around your throat from behind, keeping your head tilted just so he could speak into your ear.

“look at you,” he breathed. “so easy for me. so soft. bet you’d let me do anything. bet i could turn you over, fuck your throat till you choke, and you’d still thank me.”

you nodded, gasping, tears leaking freely now. you loved this. loved it.

“you’re mine,” he said, filthy and reverent. “mine to fuck. mine to break. mine to put back together.”

his hand slipped to your clit, rubbed fast and hard and perfect.

“cum for me, baby,” he whispered. “show me how much this little cunt needs me.”

you screamed.

orgasm ripped through you like lightning, thighs shaking, body convulsing, drool on the pillow, eyes rolled back. you clenched around him so hard he groaned, hands gripping your hips like he’d die if he let go.

“fuck—fuck, gonna fill you—gonna make you my little cumdump—take it—”

and he did. thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside you, cock throbbing, buried to the hilt. he stayed there. didn’t move. just pressed his body to yours, forehead on your shoulder, heart racing.

he kissed your neck.

“you’re such a little problem,” he whispered.

then softer

“but you’re my favorite problem in the whole fucking world.”

GETO SUGURU

you were on your knees when he came in.

good girl posture. hands resting on your thighs. no panties. tank top soaked from your own nipples. mouth open, eyes wide, trying your best to look obedient.

geto saw right through it.

he didn’t speak at first. just stared. heavy boots thunking across the floor with slow purpose, like every step was judgment. thirty-one years old, still in black slacks from his shift, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back neat—clean.

too clean for the way he looked at you. like he was about to do something filthy. sacred.

“how many days you think you’ve gotten away with this?”

his voice dropped like honey into a coffin.

“with what?” your lips curled. “being good?”

he knelt, big hands sliding into your hair, curling tight.

“no. playing sweet, sitting here like you’re waiting for a blessing when all week you’ve been acting like the devil’s little cumslut.”

your mouth dropped. thighs clenched.

“don’t play innocent,” he hissed, breath hot against your cheek. “skipping class, mouthing off, posting thirst traps while i’m at work—you wanna humiliate me, baby? want everyone seeing what’s mine?”

“i wanted your attention,” you whispered.

“you got it now.”

he dragged you by the hair, tossed you on the bed like a ragdoll.

“face down.”

you didn’t even blink. flipped, legs trembling, soaked already, thighs sticking together.

he tore the shirt. clean. one motion. your tits bounced out and he didn’t waste time. slapped one, hard, made you yelp.

“no bra? of course not. why would a whore need one?”

you whined. “suguru…”

“don’t say my name like that unless you want me to spit in your fucking mouth.”

you turned your head, open. waiting.

he grinned. “good little slut.”

ptui— his spit landed on your tongue. you swallowed without blinking.

he shoved your legs open. two fingers slid between your folds. he paused.

“…this wet already?”

your moan was so soft it barely counted. “for you. only ever for you.”

his fingers moved slow. filthy. obscene. gathering slick just to smear it around, tease your clit, then slap it. smack. your hips jumped.

“you’re not sorry.”

“no.”

“you want me to hurt you.”

“…yes.”

he bent down, kissed your spine. so gentle it made you ache.

“then i’ll make you scream, pretty girl. and you’re gonna thank me.”

he undid his belt. the sound alone made your breath hitch.

when he dragged his cock through your folds, you shook.

“look at you,” he murmured. “so needy. creaming on my cock before i even fuck you.”

you turned your face, whimpering, “please, i need it—”

he pushed in. all the way.

no warm-up. no slow thrust. just one thick, brutal drive of his hips that made your mouth open in a silent scream.

“fucking tight. trying to squeeze the cum out of me already? greedy fucking pussy.”

his pace was cruel. loud. thwack, thwack, thwack—his hips slamming your ass, hands gripping your waist like he was holding onto something holy.

“keep it open for me,” he growled, voice ragged. “don’t run. you begged for this, now you take it.”

your moans went high-pitched. broken. drool soaked the sheets.

he leaned over your back, one hand slipping under to grope your tits, the other gripping your jaw, turning your head to him.

“you know what you are?”

“what?”

“my sweet little altar. made to kneel. to take my cock like worship.”

you clenched. hard. he groaned.

“oh, fuck—yeah. you love that, don’t you? being used. being my soft, pretty thing to ruin.”

you cried out, “yes! fuck, i love it—please, harder—”

he grabbed your throat from behind, pulled you up, your back against his chest, still fucking deep, brutal, fast. your body jolted with every stroke.

“then take every inch. show me you mean it.”

he grabbed your jaw, forced your mouth open, spit into it again. “swallow.”

you obeyed. always.

“that’s it. my dirty girl. my pretty.”

his pace faltered—then slammed in harder. faster. pounding. like he wanted to break something.

“gonna fill you,” he gasped. “fuck you till it leaks down your thighs. i’ll knot you if i have to. keep you plugged all fucking week.”

your second orgasm hit so hard your legs collapsed. you shrieked—“SUGURU—”—body shaking, pussy clenching, squirting mess over his cock and thighs.

“fuckfuck— ohhh my girl—take it—take it all—”

he shoved in, one final time, and came. deep. thick. endless. flooding your cunt until it was dripping, running down your thighs.

he stayed buried. chest to your back. lips to your ear.

“my perfect little thing,” he whispered. “my brat. my problem. my heaven.”

you sobbed. smiling.

he kissed your temple.

“…round two’s in the shower. don’t you dare rinse me out.”

NANAMI KENTO

you knew what time he got off work.

you knew he’d take the train.

you knew how long the walk from the station to your shared apartment took.

and still, you were spread on the couch with your ass in the air and your vibrator buzzing so loud it was practically greeting him when the door opened.

“welcome home, daddy,” you purred, glancing over your shoulder, thighs slick and shining. “miss me?”

he didn’t speak. didn’t breathe.

nanami kento closed the door with the click of finality, set his briefcase down gently, and rolled his sleeves with the precision of a man preparing to kill. slow. methodical. focused.

you didn’t even blink. just arched your back more.

“you couldn’t wait,” he said, voice like death in a silk tie. “again.”

“i needed to come.”

“and not a single fucking thought for who you belong to.”

you moaned at the tone. his belt was already off, folded in his hand.

you whimpered, “make me remember.”

he did.

three cracks across your ass with the leather before you even finished exhaling. you yelped, jerked forward, vibrator falling out of your cunt—he kicked it across the room like trash.

“don’t you ever take what’s mine without asking.”

you turned your head, breathing fast, face flushed. “i’m yours.”

his voice dropped lower. colder.

“then act like it.”

he yanked you off the couch by your hair, not cruel, just firm, dominating, until you were on your knees before him.

“open your mouth.”

you obeyed.

his cock was hard already, heavy and thick, flushed red at the tip. he didn’t stroke it. didn’t tease. just shoved it past your lips and down your throat in one smooth, brutal thrust.

glrk—glgk—mmph!

“quiet,” he muttered. “you gag, you make a mess, i’ll make you clean the floor with your tongue.”

his hand in your hair. his cock down your throat. his voice in your head.

“disobedient little holes like yours need reminders. rough ones. you think acting like a filthy little brat will earn you soft touches?”

your throat fluttered around him. tears spilled from your eyes.

he pulled out. you gasped—air, finally—only to be slapped across the face with his cock. once. twice. precum smeared your cheek.

“no. you get discipline. and when you take it well, then—maybe—you get to hear me say how much i love you.”

you whimpered. “please, daddy—i love you—”

he bent down, grabbed your jaw, squeezed until your lips parted wide.

“and i love you,” he whispered, cruel and tender. “which is why i won’t stop until this body forgets how to lie.”

he flipped you over the couch, pushed your head down into the cushions, shoved two fingers into your dripping cunt, slow and punishing.

“look at this mess,” he hissed. “you soaked my furniture. like some heat-addled bitch waiting to be bred.”

you keened, trying to fuck back on his hand. he pulled away.

“don’t move.”

he lined up behind you. one hand on your hip, the other fisting your hair. then he fucked into you.

slap—slap—slap—

no warning. no easing. just cock, thick and deep, pounding your pussy open like it owed him something. your cries echoed in the room, each one sharper than the last.

“say it,” he snarled, fucking into you harder. “say what you are.”

“your slut—daddy—i’m your hole—fuck—i’m yours—”

“louder.”

“I’M YOURS—”

he yanked your hair, bit your shoulder, hand sliding around to rub your clit in tight cruel circles.

“you come without permission, i start over.”

you sobbed, trembling, pussy spasming around him.

“please—please please let me—”

he licked your ear. breath hot.

“beg prettier.”

your voice cracked. “daddy, please let me cum—i need it—been so bad, need your punishment—need your cum in me—please mark me—please—”

he groaned, deep and low. “fuck.”

his pace stuttered. faster now. rougher.

“cum for me, baby,” he hissed. “make a mess. cry for me. scream.”

you shattered.

your orgasm slammed through you like a train, thighs trembling, gush of slick coating his cock, your whole body collapsing forward into the couch cushions. sobbing. raw. ruined.

but he wasn’t done.

“stay there.”

he pulled out. flipped you over. shoved his cock between your tits and started fucking them while you whimpered, barely conscious, still twitching.

“look at me while i do it,” he ordered. “eyes on mine.”

you blinked, tears spilling, lips parted. he jerked himself with one hand, using your tits for friction with the other, voice shaking.

“i love you so fucking much,” he muttered. “you drive me insane. make me mean. make me need to ruin you.”

he came all over your chest and neck, thick spurts painting your skin like ownership.

he collapsed forward, kissed your mouth so softly it made you ache.

“you’re my everything,” he whispered. “my brat. my problem. my love.”

you nodded, dizzy. “i know.”

he cupped your cheek.

“and next time,” he said, already smiling, “if i catch you touching yourself again…”

he kissed your temple.

“…i’ll tie you up for three days and make you watch me cum on other things.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you slammed the door.

he kicked it open.

you were already halfway to your bedroom, huffing, rolling your eyes, making that smug little face that said “what are you gonna do about it?”

toji didn’t say a word.

he didn’t have to.

his heavy boots hit the floor like thunder. you didn’t even get a chance to shut your bedroom door before he was there—six foot something, broad, scarred, tired of your mouth and twice as tired of not fucking it shut.

he caught your wrist, yanked you back, threw you face-first onto the mattress.

“oh, we’re doin’ this again?” he muttered, pulling your shorts down without an ounce of gentleness, thong snapping against your thigh as he ripped it clean off. “you really don’t know when to quit, huh?”

you were soaking. dripping down your thighs. and he hadn’t even touched your cunt yet.

“fuck you,” you spat.

he laughed. loud. mean. dragged a hand through your hair, grabbed a fistful and yanked your head back.

“no, sweetheart. not tonight. i fuck you.”

he shoved two fingers into your mouth, watched your eyes widen as he fucked them in deep, slow, choking you just enough to blur your vision.

“this is what you’re good for. being used. being bent over and stuffed full ‘til you’re cryin’ and leaking. that what you wanted, princess?”

you moaned around his fingers, drooling down your chin.

he spat on your ass. spanked it with his free hand, making you jerk.

“talk back to me again this week and i’m fucking your ass next.”

you whimpered. clenched. because yeah, you wanted that too.

he yanked his belt off, undid his pants with one hand, shoved them down, cock already rock-fucking-hard, vein thick down the shaft, leaking.

“been walkin’ around like a tease all week. no bra, no manners, no fuckin’ sense,” he grunted, dragging his tip down your slit. “you want me to be mean to you.”

you nodded, barely able to breathe.

“yeah? you like when i fuck the brat outta you?”

you didn’t even answer. your eyes were already fluttering.

he shoved in with a grunt. balls-deep.

no warning. no mercy.

“FUCK—!”

your scream echoed off the walls as he filled you to the goddamn brim, hips flush, his palm between your shoulder blades pinning you down like he was staking a claim.

“tight little cunt,” he growled. “so fucking wet for me. already stretchin’ like a good girl.”

he pulled back and slammed in. again. again. faster now, fucking you like it was his full-time job.

you sobbed, hands clawing at the sheets, body jolting with each brutal thrust.

“what happened to all that attitude?” he taunted, leaning over you, chest to your back, lips on your ear. “gone all quiet now that you’ve got cock where your mouth used to be?”

you cried out, “toji—ohmygod—!”

he bit your neck. hard. left a mark.

“you’re mine. say it.”

“yours—fuck—i’m yours—!”

he laughed again, rough and satisfied.

“yeah, that’s what i thought. all that mouth and now you can’t even breathe without my dick stuffed inside you.”

his hand reached under, fingers to your clit—he didn’t stroke. he rubbed. hard, cruel circles, timed to each thrust. you were soaking him, wet squelches with every pump, your whole body on fire.

“cum like my fucktoy, baby,” he hissed. “i wanna feel you milkin’ my cock. wanna see you ruin these fuckin’ sheets.”

you screamed when it hit—legs shaking, vision blurring, whole cunt clenching tight around him in messy, gushing waves. you collapsed. sobbing. drooling. wrecked.

but he wasn’t done.

“nah, sweetheart. you don’t get to finish before i do.”

he grabbed your hips, pulled you back onto his cock, used your spent, twitching body like a toy. loud, brutal slaps of skin. balls slamming into your soaked cunt. groaning like he was at war with himself.

“fuck—gonna fill you—make you walk around leaking all night—fuckin’ dripping down your thighs like a good little cumdump—ugh—take it—take it, take it—”

he came inside you so hard you felt it. thick spurts, hot as sin, flooding your walls until it dripped down your ass.

he pulled out slow. stared at the mess. smirked.

“that’s what you get for runnin’ your mouth.”

you turned your head, dazed, voice hoarse.

“i hate you.”

he leaned down, kissed your forehead soft as anything, voice like syrup over gravel:

“love you too, babydoll.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

he didn’t knock.

he didn’t text.

he kicked the fucking door in like he owned the place—and you.

and he did.

you didn’t even flinch from the bed, lounging like you hadn’t been a little menace all week. phone in hand. pussy bare. your cunt glistened under the city lights pouring through the window. thighs spread. one finger buried inside you.

he saw red.

“you’ve got a lot of nerve,” he growled, voice thick with something ancient, brutal, blood-soaked. “you touch what belongs to me and don’t even ask?”

you slid your finger out, sucked it slow, gaze steady.

“you weren’t here.”

he crossed the room in two strides, hand around your throat before the second breath left your lungs. pinned you to the mattress, his claws—yes, claws—digging just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“and that gave you the right?”

you gasped, breath caught between fear and heat.

“no,” you whispered. “i needed you.”

“that’s better.” he released your throat only to slap your cheek with the same hand. not hard. just sharp. humiliating.

“you need me. like a filthy mortal needs breath. like a cunt needs cock. like a god needs worship.”

his other hand dragged down your stomach, slow, possessive. past your navel, between your thighs. he spit on your pussy. watched it drip down.

“look at that. already wet. already messy. pathetic little shrine all ready for my cock.”

you whimpered. hips lifted. he slapped your pussy. smack.

“not yet.”

he stood at the edge of the bed, peeled off that black robe he always wore like he was royalty—chest marked in thick black lines, tattoos like scripture, four arms rippling with power. his cock hung heavy, long, thick enough to hurt. twitching already.

“on your knees.”

you scrambled. didn’t dare disobey.

he gripped your hair with one hand, used the other to stroke his cock, and before moving to hold your chin still.

“mouth open. tongue out. beg for it.”

you moaned. “please, daddy. i need it. need to choke on you.”

“then take it.”

he shoved into your throat, all at once. no easing. no mercy. just a brutal, choking thrust that had your lips spread wide, nose buried in his pelvis, drool leaking instantly.

glk—glrk—hhhk—!

“such a tight little throat,” he snarled, hips rolling into your face. “feels like you were made just for me. every hole on you’s mine.”

he fucked your mouth like it was a hole in the wall. used. owned. you gagged. he laughed. sweet, cruel, delighted.

“look at you. tears running, drool soaking your tits. and you’re moaning around it. you like being treated like a toy.”

you nodded, eyes glassy.

he pulled out with a pop. your spit hung in strands from his cock to your lips.

“on the bed. ass up.”

you obeyed, body shaking. he grabbed your hips, yanked you back to the edge, slapped your ass until it was glowing.

“i should tear this pussy open,” he hissed. “should split you on my cock ‘til you scream. but you’d like that too much, wouldn’t you?”

“please,” you whimpered. “please hurt me. i want it.”

he growled. bent down. bit your shoulder—hard.

“you’re fucking sick.”

he lined up. shoved in.

balls-deep. in one thrust.

your scream split the air. your hands clawed at the sheets. he was so fucking big. so full. you could feel him in your guts.

“there it is,” he moaned, hips jerking. “tight little cunt squeezing me like it’s trying to keep me.”

his pace was savage. slap, slap, slap—his hips brutal, body hard against yours, hands gripping your arms, claws biting into your skin.

“you thought you were in charge,” he snarled. “thought you could make me come crawling back by acting like a brat.”

“yes—yes—fuck—”

he leaned over, mouth at your ear.

“you belong to me, whore.”

you sobbed, clenching around him.

“my hole. my cumdump. my little fuckthing. say it.”

“yours—! please, kuna—i’m yours—i’m your little toy—”

he grabbed your throat from behind, dragged your back against his chest, never breaking rhythm, fucking you upright while you trembled and cried.

“gonna fill you up. fuckin’ ruin this cunt. make you drip my seed down your legs all week.”

“yes! please! i want it—want your cum—”

“good fucking girl.”

he slammed in deep. held. came. groaning. loud. thick. endless. his cock pulsed and pumped you full, hot liquid spilling out around the base.

he bit your neck again. sucked a mark. kissed the bruise he left.

“…you ever touch yourself again without permission,” he growled, low and sweet, “i’ll tie you up and make you watch me fuck someone else.” he would never, but still.

you whimpered, ruined.

he laughed.

“but don’t worry. you’re still my favorite. always have been.”

his hand cupped your cunt. felt the cum leaking out.

“let’s do it again.”

SHIU KONG

you’d done it again.

talked back. wore that skirt with no panties. flirted with some other guy at the bar just to see if he’d look.

you didn’t make it past the hallway.

shiu slammed you up against the wall so hard the picture frame fell off its hook. his breath hit your neck like smoke before fire, hands already pulling your shirt over your head, teeth scraping your jaw.

“think i didn’t see you?” he growled, mouth against your ear, voice dark and deadly. “batting your lashes, giggling like some fuckin’ club bunny? touching his chest?”

you gasped, but you were smiling.

“you jealous?”

his hand wrapped around your throat. tight.

“no. i’m furious.”

he grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the apartment like a criminal to sentence. your knees smacked the floor when he shoved you down in front of the couch. you didn't even protest. you wanted it. you lived for it.

his belt hit the ground. next were his pants. his cock was already hard, thick, twitching.

“open.”

you licked your lips. “yes, sir.”

“say it louder.”

“yes, sir.”

he slapped your cheek. not with his hand—with the head of his cock. smack smack smack. precum smeared your lips. your thighs clenched.

“good little bitch. show me who owns this pretty fuckin’ mouth.”

you opened wide. tongue out. obedient.

he shoved in deep. you gagged. glk—glrk—guhk— he didn’t stop. one hand held your hair, the other cupped your jaw, forcing you to take every inch until tears blurred your vision and spit dripped down your chin.

“that’s it. choke on it, princess. this what you wanted, right? some attention from your daddy?”

you whimpered around his cock. he laughed.

“you don’t even need to answer. your cunt’s been dripping since the bar.”

he pulled out with a wet pop, gripped your hair, yanked you to your feet and threw you on the couch. not placed. not guided. threw. you bounced on impact, legs splayed, skirt riding up to show everything.

“no panties,” he muttered, kneeling between your legs. “you wanted me to snap.”

you nodded, panting.

“say it.”

“i wanted you to lose it. i wanted to be punished.”

he grabbed your thighs and spread them wide. stared at your soaked cunt like it insulted him.

“fucking slut. god, you’re perfect. look at this pussy—so soft, so wet, and all of it mine.”

he didn’t even finger you. just leaned in and bit your inner thigh. hard.

“you wanna play games, sweetheart? fine. but i don’t play fair.”

he stood. lined up.

you whispered, “please be rough.”

his voice dropped to something cruel and sweet.

“oh baby. you don’t have to ask.”

and he slammed into you.

your scream lit up the room. no warning. no prep. just raw stretch and heat and cock, thick and punishing, shoved into your tight little hole like he was trying to fuck his name into your guts.

“there you go,” he hissed, holding your hips down when you tried to run. “now you’re quiet. now you’re mine again.”

his pace was vicious. brutal. thwack—thwack—thwack. the couch shook. your body rocked. tears streamed. and he didn’t stop. his hands roamed your body like they were memorizing every bruise he left.

“so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled. “cryin’, wrecked, full of cock. you make me crazy, you know that? i see you flirtin’, smilin’, and all i can think about is how you beg for my cum when you’re stuffed full.”

“shiu—shiu—please—”

“please what?” he slapped your clit. you squealed. “please more? please harder? please daddy use me like the cumdump i am?”

“yes—” you sobbed. “please ruin me—!”

he fucked harder. faster. one hand grabbed your throat again, squeezing. the other rubbing your clit mean and fast.

“then take it. take every fucking inch. milk me for it, baby.”

your orgasm ripped through you. back arched, vision gone white, mouth open in a silent scream, cunt clenching tight.

“that’s it,” he panted. “cum like a good little bitch.”

he didn’t pull out. couldn’t. he was already snarling, pounding into your spasming pussy like he was trying to breed you.

“gonna fill you up,” he moaned, voice ragged. “gonna leave you dripping for days—fuck—gonna make your body remember who owns it—”

and he came. hard. deep. thick.

cum painted your walls, leaking instantly around his cock. he held you there, pulsing inside, trembling.

and then—he kissed you.

soft. messy. possessive.

“you fuckin’ drive me insane,” he whispered. “but i love you so much i’ll keep breaking you every time you forget.”

you smiled through the tears, body ruined.

“…then i guess i’ll keep forgetting.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he didn’t even loosen his tie.

you watched him walk in—black coat soaked from the rain, briefcase in one hand, that cold stillness around his shoulders like he just left the courtroom but brought the executioner’s gavel home.

you were already waiting on the couch. bare. innocent. dangerous.

legs crossed. vibrator buzzing in one hand. nothing else on but gloss and guilt.

he saw the shine on your thighs. the fake innocence in your eyes.

and he smiled.

a soft thing. terrifying. like a man about to pass sentence.

“you’ve been playing again,” he said, setting the briefcase down.

“mm,” you hummed, slowly parting your legs, giving him the full view. “not guilty.”

his eyes dragged over your cunt, soaked and glistening.

“you sure?”

“you want to cross-examine?”

his coat dropped to the floor. no hanger. no pause. just unbuckled belt, tie yanked loose with one motion, shirt still tucked as he stalked toward you.

“stand up.”

you did.

“hands behind your back.”

you obeyed.

he circled you once like a predator and pressed his palm to your ass, dragging it down between your cheeks, feeling your heat. your slick.

he leaned in.

“verdict’s in,” he murmured, voice warm like whiskey and holy sin. “guilty. of seduction, disobedience, and fucking filth.”

your moan was a whisper.

he turned you, bent you over the couch, and cuffed your wrists behind your back with actual cuffs—black steel, no fluff, no play. courtroom restraints.

you gasped. breath hitched. he kissed the back of your neck.

“you don’t get to come tonight unless you confess.”

you turned your head, panting, “confess to what?”

he slapped your cunt. hard. you cried out.

“don’t play dumb. you get off on this. teasing me. touching yourself when i’m gone. soaking the sheets in that sweet little pussy like a bitch in heat.”

his cock was out now—long, flushed, angry. the head leaking precum, thick vein down the side pulsing. you whimpered at the sight.

“you been thinking about this cock all day?” he asked, dragging the tip through your folds.

“yes—yes, your honor—”

he slapped your ass.

“try again.”

“…yes, daddy.”

his laugh was low, dangerous.

“better.”

he shoved in with a groan.

deep. slow. endless.

“fuck—tight. still fits like it was made for me.”

he didn’t move yet. just stayed there, cock buried in your soaked heat, stretching you open while his hands gripped your waist like a ruling passed down from the gods.

you moaned, trembling.

“what’s the sentence, daddy?”

“remand.” he pulled out, slammed back in. thwack. “no parole. full use. no safeword.”

you cried out, back arching, eyes rolling back.

his pace was slow and mean.

every thrust perfect. deep. angled to punish.

“look at you. taking it. soaking me. drooling. just a needy little slut waiting for her judge to ruin her in the courtroom and the bedroom.”

you whined, broken, body jolting with every thrust.

“beg me,” he ordered, voice warm and calm and cruel.

“please—please don’t stop—please keep fucking me—”

he leaned down, mouth to your ear, voice pure velvet:

“you want the whole courtroom to hear how loud this sloppy cunt gets? want the bailiff, the stenographer, every poor bastard sitting in the gallery hearing you scream daddy while i fill you up?”

you moaned so loud you swore it echoed.

his hand wrapped around your throat. the other on your hip, holding you still while he started to destroy you.

“i love you, you know,” he whispered, fucking faster now. “but you’re such a goddamn problem. smart mouth. bratty ass. needy little whore. you need this. you need to be put in your place.”

your climax hit without warning—violent, soaking, screaming.

he didn’t stop. not for a second.

“that’s one,” he muttered. “we’re not done. you don’t get a reduced sentence for good behavior. you think i give out mercy? i’m the fucking law, baby.”

you sobbed, body twitching, begging.

he flipped you over, still cuffed, shoved your legs open and fucked into you again—face to face now. slower. deeper. crueler.

his eyes locked on yours. serious. sweet.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, stroking your cheek. “no jury. no appeal.”

you nodded, tears slipping.

“yours. forever.”

he kissed you. sweet. filthy.

and came inside you with a groan like confession. thick, hot, endless.

still buried, still pulsing. still in control.

“court adjourned,” he said.

but his eyes?

still hungry.

[tsukimefuku]

de-stressing the lawyer :: higuruma hiromi

summary: your husband hiromi is pretty stressed out with work, and you decide to help him out… by giving him head under his desk.

cw: smut, implied f!reader, blowjob, swallowing, pet names (“darling" and “my dear”).

wc: 1.1k

notes etc.: this is just filth, guys. It is thoroughly inspired by that one amazing four-panel comic from @g00miato that has lived in my head rent free ever since I saw it a while ago (tagging the artist with her consent, you can check out the comic here on this link).

Hiromi had a throbbing headache as he sat on his home office's desk. He had been cooped up in there for hours after work, having already peeled out his tie and suit jacket, trying to crack a case he didn't get anywhere with during office hours.

The evidence? Wasn't favorable at all. The procedure? Pristine, nothing to argue about that. His client was in a dire situation and Hiromi thought he might have to enter a plea bargain with the prosecution, something he loathed with every fiber of his being.

"Hey, Hiro... Any luck yet?" you asked, walking in holding a plate with a few sandwiches. He looked at you like he could throw himself out of the window at that very instant. "Yeesh."

"I'm stuck. I'm just utterly, and completely, stuck," he answered, disheartened and annoyed, with a prominent vein popping on his forehead — the tell-tale sign he was operating at peak stress capabilities.

You put the plate on the desk and sat on the edge to avoid ruffling up his papers.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Hiro?" you asked, with clear concern in your voice. He worked too much most of the time.

Hiromi spun on his chair to look at you for a second, grabbing one of the sandwiches.

"This is fine, love. Thank you."

Upon closer inspection, he really looked like he was three heartbeats short of a heart attack. 

"Hiromi, you need to relax..." you cooed, giving him a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Maybe try taking a break?"

"I can't. I can't leave this desk. I feel like I almost got it, but it keeps slipping away! Dammit," he complained with his mouth half full while covering his face with his hands.

You sighed, and walked behind him, starting to massage his shoulders. He felt like a boulder underneath your touch, and it took a while for him to actually begin relaxing, putting his food back on the plate and dangling his head back with his eyes closed.

"Is that good?"

Hiromi simply nodded, and you sighed, a little more relieved. However, his muscles were still very much stiff, and there was no way he'd be able to continue working like this.

That was when you had a wicked little idea.

“Hey, Hiro, I think you need a break.”

“My love, I can’t. I’ve almost-“

“Let me rephrase that — you will take a break right now,” you answered him, starting to pull on his chair enough to separate him from his desk, “because I had an idea. And you won’t have to leave your desk.”

Hiromi looked at you confused, but offered no resistance when you pulled him away from his papers. Swiftly, you walked in front of him and kneeled, sliding under his desk.

“What are you-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as you put both hands on his thighs and rolled him back in your direction, sneaky fingers quickly unzipping his pants.

“I’m taking care of my dear, beloved husband,” you cooed with a mischievous smile on your face.

Hiromi looked down at you, shuddering the moment you pressed your hands on his clothed cock and started to massage it over his boxers, his pupils slowly growing larger and larger. Hiromi’s mouth fell open, his breathing growing heavier as he gazed at you.

You could feel his length hardening under your touch, and rested your face over his thigh while you kept softly stroking him. Hiromi’s hand made its way towards your face, his thumb brushing circles around your cheek. Your eyes met his, and you smiled at him, robbing him of a blush and some fluttering blinks.

For the first time today, Hiromi actually felt the pent up stress easing on him. His relaxation now had become more evident from the way your husband began slouching himself on his chair. His resolve to keep tinkering with his work evaporated for the time being, something only you got to do with Hiromi.

His work was first to anything, except when it came to you.

Feeling more and more satisfied with that, you finally downed his boxers, just to see his now throbbing, red cock slapping with a soft thud against his skin. From his mouth, the faintest whimper tumbled out, and oh did that rile you up just right.

Not wasting any time, you gave a few licks over his tip, tasting the salty pre cum just forming a tiny drop over his slit. That robbed Hiromi from some little moans and gasps, right before you finally downed his length inside your mouth, glazing it all over with wet, warm saliva. 

”You... t-take such good care-- of me... fuck“ Hiromi’s fingers tangled in your hair, lovingly massaging their way through, and it was you now who let out a tiny mewl, eliciting a broken moan from his lips.

You had your mouth as deep as you could without choking yourself, and bobbed your head up and down his shaft, as one of your hands pumped the rest of his length down to the base, pulling your other hand up to massage his tightening balls. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and at that moment, he let out a strained whimper rolling his eyes back, biting his lips.

”Such a good wife-- s-so good for me-- ohhh perfect... shit... ohhhh--”

His praises were definitely arousing, to say the least, and you clenched your thighs together, relieving — even if just a little — the pulsing need aching in your core while you had both of your hands full with him.

Hiromi got lost in the pleasure, and barely noticed his entire body relaxing, which led to his legs starting to push him away from you. Your hand that previously was around his balls instantly shot up, holding him by his buttoned shirt. The moment you pulled him in your direction, edging his cock even deeper in your tight, hot, slick mouth, he involuntarily bucked his hips, tip hitting the roof of your mouth.

You moaned with your lips around his shaft, and started to suck on it more intently. Hiromi’s head dangled back, his own desperate moans and whimpers coming muffled in between his teeth and bitten bottom lip. Both of his hands now stroked your hair, anxiously making a mess out of you, just as much you were making a mess out of him.

”I’m gonna c-cum... Can I... inside-- p-please-- m-my love, ohhhhh-- please... please”

To hear him beg desperately like that was definitely one of your favorite sounds in the world. 

You moaned back at him a muffled mm-hmm, and from his lips fell some louder whimpers, his fingers tensing around your head.

He came with a shiver shooting all throughout his entire body, warm spurts of his thick cum blossoming hot over your tongue, glazing your entire mouth and throat.

Your hand on his shirt tightened, crumpling it like paper, as you drank his essence in, swallowing down everything as your pumping over his length finally slowed down, his cock twitching under your touch to let out his final drops.

Letting go from his cock with an audible pop after your were finished, you looked up at him, and for a moment, you felt like you could cum from that sight alone. His flushed, loving, little fucked out face, smiling at you with those luster-filled ashy eyes. It was definitely a sight to behold. 

You rested your face over his thigh, longingly looking at him, and Hiromi’s hand cupped the side of your face.

“I love you, darling,” he cooed with a husky, low voice.

“I love you too, Hiro.”

Out of nowhere, though, his gaze slowly morphed, and his eyebrows shot up, as if Hiromi had remembered something.

“Hiro, is everything okay?”

“I think I just might have thought of a way to salvage this case.”

De-stressing really helped Hiromi with work, apparently, and you’d help him every time he needed to.

Gladly.

written by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost. copycatting is for losers.

[kurooh]

♡ ‧₊˚ higuruma’s got a big nose.

��� 18+, f! reader, squirting, facesitting; based off of this video of doja cat! noses are soooo.. every shape is unique <3

“sit down,” hiromi grins, waving you over with both his hands. “come on, baby.”

“alright, alright,” you huff, straddling his bare waist and slowly inching up to his face. “promise you won’t suffocate?”

“i’d be happy to go out like this,” he mutters, greedily pulling on your thighs and squeezing your soft skin impatiently.

you gasp when you take a seat, falling forward and planting your hands on the headboard. hiromi doesn’t waste any time, licking up your cunt like he’s been stranded without water for days. his silky tongue pushes through your folds and even dips inside you; his chuckle is muffled against you.

“h-hiromi,” you stutter, hips rolling onto his face like waves on the shore, “just like that, don’t fucking stop.”

hiromi savors your taste, eyes rolling back at the sounds of your gasps and your desperate movements. he’s giving you as much pleasure as he possibly can, and he wants nothing more than for you to take it all and then some.

“love this pussy, angel,” he says when you lift your hips for him to breathe, “so, so good.”

large hands firmly grip your thighs as he stops you from sitting back down; he adjusts the angle, pulling you down so that your sensitive clit’s bumping into his nose. just that one light touch has you shaking, chest heaving as your breath comes in puffs.

it’s always been easy for him to reduce you into a breathless, begging mess, either after he eats you out or fucks you until he can’t stand.

“use me,” he grunts, fingers digging into the skin of your asscheeks before he uses a hand to grace your ass with a slap to make his point. “use me, angel.”

“okay, hiromi,” you agree, cheeks burning. with a whimper that has him feeling feral, you start to bounce on his face, his tongue licking inside you while your clit presses into his nose.

hiromi’s groaning beneath you, his lower body bowing off the bed while his hips thrash. you on his face, you all over him, you — he almost feels like he could cum all over himself untouched.

“hiromi, hiromi, fuck..” you moan, shocks of pleasure shooting through your body as the knot in your tummy gets closer and closer to snapping. “ah, ah— ‘m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum!”

seconds before your orgasm, you toss your hips up and ride his nose, spreading your slick all over his skin. beneath you, hiromi’s shaking, loving every second of this — he squeezes you hard with one hand, smacks your bouncing ass with the other.

it happens too fast, before the both of you can register . . you’re sitting on his nose and crying out as you cum all over him. your pussy squirts all over his flushed lips and right into his open mouth; hiromi stops you from pulling away, groaning as he attaches his mouth to your cunt and sucks up every drop he can get.

“a-ah, hiromi—” you sob, swollen clit dragging against the bridge of his nose, “it’s too much, please, i can’t cum again..”

he briefly raises you from your seat on his face, his grip too tight for you to slip away. “you can, and you will, angel. just one more, can’t you do that for me?”

“but—” you’re torn between pushing your hips toward him for more or pulling away when he licks a lazy stripe up your quivering slit.

“come on, i promise.”

“okay, okay,” you huff, a sharp whine tearing from your throat when he yanks you down hastily. “hiromi! s-slowly, please..”

from between your thighs, he peers up at you with teary eyes. “alright. just— just ride my face.” the unspoken please is evident in his words.

he’s practically moaning louder than you are when you’re canting your hips forward, grinding your pussy all over him desperately. you’re too sensitive from cumming before, but his grip on you is one that he won’t ease up on, especially not if you try to move away. your whimpers as you try to push past the overstimulation cause a sweltering heat to rush through his body, straight to his cock.

on either side of hiromi’s head, your thighs tense, and from what he can see, he thinks you look beautiful like this, trembling above him.

“oh, ‘s coming,” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks as your movements become less coordinated. “hiro, i’m gonna cum again!”

your pussy slides on his nose, and with that, you’re falling apart once again. his tongue pushes through your folds and he grunts into your pussy, wanting nothing but more.

when you move back and collapse on him, head going into his chest, he affectionately strokes your sweaty back. “thank you, baby.”

“why are you thanking me?”

“it’s impossible not to. i swear it’s a blessing every time i eat you out,” hiromi smiles at your disbelieving giggle.

“in that case, thank you for having such a perfect nose.”

“perfect?” he’s never heard anyone use that word in reference to his nose.

“yes.”

“why?”

“i love your big nose. it fits you so well, and ‘s attractive as hell.”

“is that it?” hiromi asks with a shake of his head.

“well, i can sit on it too.”

he dissolves into laughter, chest rising against yours, and he playfully shoves you. a pink flush colors his cheeks, and he looks so handsome. between his legs, you watch as his cock grows hard.

“no way you got hard from that.”

“it’s not just that,” he rolls his eyes, “it’s that laugh of yours, and your compliments.”

“okay, lay back now.”

“i’m not even fully hard.”

“i don’t care, i’ll make it happen anyway.”

[sugarwarachan]

higuruma hiromi and breath play - mdni

(･ω･)つ andy’s notes: a quick little drabble about him because i’m actually frothing at the mouth over this man pls send help cws: smut, nfsw, breath play/choking

he loves his hand around your neck. it’s not something he does consciously at first. whenever you kiss, he hovers briefly over your throat before descending, thumb pressing gently under your jawline, the palm of his hand resting against the thrumming patter of your heart.

when you point it out to him, he blushes in a way you didn’t expect from a 36-year-old man. it’s cute, though, and you can’t help but tease him a little for it.

“higuruma hiromi with a choking kink, who’d have thought?”

you’d have thought—you’ve wanted those long fingers as a necklace since you fucking met him.

you grab his hand and wrap it around your throat. his eyes darken before he squeezes once, experimentally. you instantly shudder against him, the sides of your thighs relaxing against his legs.

“tap my forearm twice if it’s too much,” is all he says.

you nod, and he tightens his grip. he doesn’t know it yet, but the glazed-over look in your eyes is one he’ll come to love, one he’ll come to expect.

"more," you breathe out, hips rocking forward. he can feel your pussy throb against the heat of his thigh and it stokes a fire under his skin. he guides your hips as you rock back and forth, drinking in the keens bubbling out of your throat.

he swipes the pad of his thumb over the pout of your lips to collect the drool collecting there, a dark grin stealing over his features.

yes, he's very fond of his hand around your neck.

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