the moonlight is a messenger of love.

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older sister's best friend drummer!ochako uraraka 18+ MDNI!!!

your garage had been your older sister’s band’s practice spot since you could remember, music playing throughout the house at all times of day and night— oftentimes resulting in both her and her friends getting scolded by your mom. with time, your house became the default hangout spot, so it wasn’t unusual to find some of your sister’s bandmates casually lounging around. you basically grew up with them.

and it was probably the most cliché of clichés, getting a big fat crush on one of them— ochako uraraka, the band’s drummer. in your eyes, she had always been the textbook definition of cool, and childish admiration soon turned into something much, much hotter.

you don’t know how long you’ll be able to survive with these barely containable feelings, especially when she just keeps showing up like…this. on your couch, in a tiny top and even shorter shorts to fight the scalding heat of the season. yeah, surely someone up above wanted to kill you today.

“oh, hey y/n!” ochako greets you with a big smile. “wanna watch some tv? i’m sooooooo bored.”

“where’s my sister?” you asked, circling the couch to go grab a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. “don’t tell me she’s still at her boyfriend’s? i though i’d heard her this morning.”

“hm?” she turns around. “hey can you throw me one?” she makes grabby hands at you, and you laugh before tossing a grape in her direction. she successfully catches it, plopping it into her mouth. “—to answer your question,” she mumbles with her mouth full, “she’s going to get kyouka because her car broke down, and since she usueally picks up mina, your sister has to detour to her house as well.”

“jees, she’s getting the full tour of the city,” you snort. “tell me about it,” ochako shakes her head. “i told her she could’ve just told me to come later, but then she said that you were home and could’ve kept me company.”

you raise a brow, skeptical. “did she say that? is she actually capable of saying nice things about me?”

“nope,” she giggles. “she just said you were home, i drew the conclusion from it that you might’ve been good company.” there’s something in the way she says it that makes you falter, heat creeping up your neck, and you pray she doesn’t notice how flustered you became just from her words.

“o-oh…” you shake it off with a chuckle, then try to come up with a way to change the topic. “uhm, i put up that poster you gave me! thanks for that, by the way, it’s so cool and it looks so good. i put it on the wall where my record player is.”

ochako beams at that. “really? would you like to show me?”

oh, how that backfired.

the thought of ochako being in your room has you stalling once more, your brain filled with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be having right now. you realize you’ve been waiting too long to reply when she tilts her head. “s-sure!” you finally croak out. “o-of course, let’s go upstairs.”

“i’m sorry for the mess,” you look over your shoulder as you open the door to your bedroom. “i still haven’t finished unpacking so…yeah, it’s not too pretty.”

you weren’t exaggerating. since coming back from uni, you’ve been grabbing the clothes you wanted to wear directly from your suitcase, uncaringly dropping what you didn’t need on the floor. the only thing you did was putting back up your posters and other decorations, as well as reorganizing your figures and manga volumes on the shelves— it was still very much a work in progress, though.

“don’t worry!” ochako chuckled reassuringly from behind you. “you should see mine, even when i don’t have stuff to unpack.”

rambling is your only way to ignore just how fucking nervous you are at the moment. sure, ochako has been in your room before, but the two of you were never quite alone like this. it was either her, kyouka and mina dropping by to say hi when they came to practice, or to slip you a jell-o shot - or two…or three - during parties.

this…this was much different.

“well, i see you’ve unpacked the essentials only.”

and you’re about to come up with a playful reply before you’re following her line of sight, your face contorting into an expression of pure horror when your gaze falls on the vibrator lying on your unmade bed, only half-hidden by the sheets but still very unmistakably vibrator-shaped.

you want to die.

no, you need to die. like right now, with the floor cracking beneath your feet and sucking you into the depths of the earth.

“ah, uhm…t-that’s…i-i don’t…” you whimpering, overwhelmed by shame as ochako simply looks at you, clearly trying to fight back a laugh as she watches you squirm, not wanting to make you feel any worse. “i-i’m so sorry! this is so embarrassing,” you scramble to the bed, trying to hide it under as many pillows you can, hands shaking as you fumble with them.

ochako can’t hold back, bursting into laughter, doubled over with both hands clutching her stomach. the fact that you look like you’re about to throw up doesn’t help. “oh my gosh, sorry, sorry,” she wipes away a tear. “that’s…that was too funny, sorry. but there’s nothing to be ashamed of! if that makes you feel better, i own a few of those myself, it’s completely normal!”

you’re kneeling on the bed, hand still clutching a pillow as you look back at her. she has toys too? if you weren’t mortified enough before, the image of ochako touching herself is—

“stupid boys weren’t treating you right?”

when did she get on the bed!?

she’s sitting right next to you, so close you can smell her perfume mixed with a bit of sweat from the heat, big brown eyes staring right into yours. rosy lips stretched into a grin. you’re pretty sure she can hear how loudly you gulp.

“ah, t-that’s not—”

“or maybe girls?” she leans in, her nose only a breath away from yours.

your heart shouldn’t be beating so fast, the sound of your own blood thundering in your ears, and you’re not sure if you’re more scared or embarrassingly turned on. “i haven’t, uhm…i-i don’t really…”

admitting that you’re a virgin would surely make you look like even more of a loser. sure, there was some rubbing situation once, with an equally as intoxicated girl who was a year your senior at a party, but nothing more. because that girl wasn’t ochako.

“hm? no one, really? oh, poor girl,” she coos, and the faux sympathy in her voice has your thighs clenching together. “and i’m sure your…friend doesn’t satiate you enough, am i right?”

you can only nod.

“i can fix that.”

and you’re not sure how you end up with your shorts and panties discarded to the floor, shirt bunched up to let your tits spill free, red marks decorating the skin. ochako’s kiss is like a drug, obliterating any rational neuron in your brain and overriding it with something primal and depraved.

“oh, look at her,” she holds your thighs apart, marveling at the thick coat of glistening slick on your cunt, drooling hole clenching around nothing. “already so puffy and needy…no one’s been giving her the attentions she deserves, am i right?”

your chest heaves with panting breaths, ochako’s calloused hands manhandling your thighs is a sight that makes every fantasy you’ve ever had pale compared to the real thing. she isn’t even looking at you, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear to get even closer as she talks to your pussy, breath fanning over your sensitive core as her thumb spreads your folds.

“chako…” you call her name in a shaky whimper, but it quickly turns into a loud sob when three of her fingers come smacking! flat down on your poor cunt. your legs instinctively close shut, but she doesn’t let you, wrenching them open once more. “i wasn’t talking to you,” she chides. “i was talking to her. now, where were we—”

the sound of the front door opening downstairs has the both of your bristling. “ochako? ochako, are you still here? i brought mina and kyouka!”

you almost fall off the bed as you rush to grab your clothes and fix yourself, while ochako calmly gets up and stops on your doorway. “yeah, i was in the bathroom! i’ll be down in a minute!” she turns to you then, making sure you see her putting in her mouth those same fingers that had been coated in your juices only moments ago, licking them clean.

“thanks for keeping me company,” she chirps. “i’ll come by to say goodbye later. don’t miss me too much, ‘kay?”

┊┊a/n. i don't really know how much older ochako is 3 years at best? her and reader are a senior and a freshman in college respectively? dunno man...i wish i could've made this longer but i was revising for my exam the whole day...wish me luck for tomorrow chat :(((

glep bro idk what these r called either but likt they dont look exactly the same but the idea is there.... i started making the sybau ones cuz I WAS RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS HELP..... whos gna use the start digging in your butt twin </3 whoever uses it gets an award 🥺 all f2u

Yesterday my entire blog was terminated TWICE without warning by Tumblr while I was tagging the folks in my Pope taglist in the comments. There was no warning, no email. I just hit 'enter' and boom I got the termination notice.

Almost 10k followers and thousands of fics gone in an instant.

I raised a ticket and an hour later the blog was reactivated. There was no info about what I did wrong but an email that said, it’s been reactivated. I still didn't have one that told me why I had been terminated. Two mins later I went back to the taglist and picked up where I left off with the Pope taglist and immediately, as soon as I clicked 'enter' it happened again.

So, I raised another ticket.  

It’s my belief that they’ve activated a bot to stop scammers from tagging loads of folks in those ‘send me money for fake charity’ posts they do, and unfortunately if you have a big taglist you’ll fall into that net too.

I’m not sure how this effects people who put their taglists in the actual post, but I imagine they’ll also be cracking down on that at some point if scammers start to use that method.

kirishima won’t let you look away, tangled within his muscular frame, all sweaty limbs and breathless gasps wrapped up in pure ecstasy. his body hovers above yours, casting shadows in the dim light spilling through the loose curtains and cool evening air. the sweet smell of vanilla wafts through the room, soft ribbons of smoke curling lazily from the incense he had lit only moments prior.

kirishima always makes sure the moment is sensual, wrapped in a lovesick haze—he’s a very romantic man at heart. and he holds yours with large, calloused hands adorned with various scars that trail up his arms, across his back, and toward his chest like inked medals, tributes to his life as a hero—a man very much capable of violence, yet all soft lips and hushed reassurance when he’s buried beneath the covers with you. his favorite place, he thinks. tucked away with you, lapping at your spoils, while you squirm beneath him, all pretty whimpers and trembling limbs.

the head of his cock traces your slick folds slowly, your pussy aching for his girth to finally stuff your needy hole full. his voice is low, a rasp that settles warm against your skin. you’re feverish underneath him, body practically molded to his, the way he keeps you close. voice rough yet it holds a softness reserved only for you, he’s demanding too—every time you squirm or let your gaze drift to the ceiling, nerves curling tight in your chest during this intimate, overwhelming moment.

“look at me.” he says it like a mantra with such authority that it only makes the wetness between your thighs pool further, the ache inside you growing louder. you shake your head weakly, but his cock pushes through your entrance now, your hole greedily welcoming him, swallowing him down to the base. he’s warm inside you, full in a way that sends a rushing sensation rushing through your body. you need him to move, need him to fuck you dizzy.

“mphm, kiri i need you to mo—”

he thrusts once, rutting his hips into you slowly—just enough to graze your sweet spot, sending a rush of white-hot pleasure through your body, before stilling almost immediately.

“like that?” he asks, voice strained, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to keep going.

his grin is wild, sharp, shark-like teeth glinting as the edges of his lips curl cruelly. he waits, blood-red eyes fixed on you, and even through the haze of lust you can feel the weight of his stare.

he’s waiting for you to cave.

you know he won’t give in until you look at him.

despite the urge to curl away and hide, you slowly turn, your eyes catching the velvet softness hidden within his stare. your heart—the very organ tasked with keeping you alive—beats so rapidly you fear it may give one final pump and finally surrender as you weakly meet his devoted gaze.

his soul seems to brim in the irises of his eyes, to spill from the pads of his fingertips—the same ones that catch your jaw the moment you falter and turn away again, burying yourself in the plush pillow where the faint scent of lilies lingers in the fabric from the detergent you’d washed it with.

his touch is warm as he cups your jaw, fingers pressing gently into your skin, thumb tracing idly over the softness of your bottom lip.

“look at me, i wanna see that pretty face.”

your cheeks bloom a deep red under his honeyed words. “shut up, you’re so dumb,” you mutter, completely flustered, shoving his hand away—but it only makes him chuckle. his face drops into the crook of your shoulder, deep crimson locks spilling forward, bangs falling into his eyes before he brushes them aside. he looks slightly disheveled, completely open for you.

his thumb presses against your lips before slipping past them, kneading gently at your gums as a boyish grin spreads across his face. “you’re so cute. you have no reason to be shy, baby… just keep looking at me, hm?” he murmurs. when he pulls his thumb free, saliva glistens along the pad of it. you bite down lightly, leaving behind faint marks from your teeth.

“she bites,” he says, something wild flickering across his expression.

his hands find yours, fingers interlacing as he pins them above your head, hips rocking into you with a steady, building rhythm. your eyes stay locked on him, both of you slick with heat, the sounds of him filling you echoing in the tight space between you. his thrusts turn fast, erratic—until he slows just enough to drag against your g-spot, chasing the way your breath stutters at the curve of him.

his forehead falls against yours, maroon strands spilling around you both like a curtain shielding you from the world outside your windows. one hand slips free to cup your face, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin. kirishima’s lips find yours again, his tongue brushing along the seam of your mouth, asking—before taking. you melt into him, breaths tangled, shared, stolen, given back all at once, inhaling each other’s oxygen, greedily consuming it. a perfect depiction of love.

his other hand leaves yours, drifting lower, finding the swollen bud of your clit. he rubs slow, light circles—barely there—but paired with the heat of his mouth, the wet press of his tongue, and the steady thrust of his cock, it’s enough to make your thighs shake. he smells like warm cedarwood and clean soap, layered with something faintly musky and lived-in, like he’s just stepped out of training, and it clings to him in a way that’s completely intoxicating—you’re drunk off his scent.

his movements falter just slightly, hips stuttering as your body tightens around him, pulsing.

“fuck…” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. “she’s gripping me.”

his forehead presses harder to yours, almost too much. “you feel so good… look so pretty when you finish on my cock, my sweet baby,” he coos.

your nails dig into his broad back, crescent marks forming as you cling to him.

“gonna spill,” he mutters under his breath.

you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, refusing to let go. he glances down at you, breath catching, a half-laugh breaking free.

“you’re sure you don’t want me to pu—”

you only tighten your hold, thighs squeezing his torso.

he laughs, breathless, grin sharp and besotted with fondness, “greedy girl.”

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!

@tokkushin pushing the shy!gf agenda (≧◡≦) ♡ !!

note : i may have went overboard with the detail but i really hope u guys can feel the intimacy i was trying to portray. . i listened to cinderella by mac miller while writing this and i love that song sigh. reblogs, likes and comments are so appreciated and make my day 🫶

you sat your phone against your desk, the charm dangling in front of the camera, obscuring the view for a brief blurry second before sukuna scoffed, a large hand reaching out to flick it out of frame. “damn thing’s in the way.”

as you settled beside him, sukuna shifted into the camera’s frame too—naturally taking up more space than the camera could properly capture—large, broad shoulders, spiky, mussed salmon-hued hair pushed back from his tatted hand running through it way too many times, displaying all his sharp, sinister-looking features that stood out under the bright light in your dorm room.

a long roman nose that almost looked sculpted by the gods rather than born, edged brows pulled into a permanent annoyed expression, peach-colored lips soft despite the permanent grumpiness etched into them.

deep pools of onyx-colored ink seeped into his tanned skin, veins bulging faintly through the markings.

you glance over at your annoyed, pouting hulk of a boyfriend who, despite his rough exterior, is all soft for you.

you smile. “thanks, kuna baby.”

he shrugs, dismissively letting out a rasp-filled grunt. “tch.”

you poke his cheek in return, and he only sighs, but you feel the way he slowly melts into it, subtle and hesitant, like a grumpy stray cat pretending it doesn’t secretly enjoy pets.

“get on with it,” he demands.

you give him a pointed look.

his eye twitches before he grumbles, voice rougher this time, “get on with it, baby.”

“see? was that so hard?” you say sweetly, playing coy.

he rolls his eyes, head falling back against the chair, tongue clicking inside his mouth.

“don’t push it,” he says gruffly.

you squeal, ignoring his warning, clapping your hands together as you pull out the original-flavored ramune soda, the glass bottle clinking beneath your manicured nails while the clear liquid sloshes inside.

having tried every flavor but this one, you were excited—but more than anything, you were practically buzzing from the tips of your fingers to your toes at the trick you were about to play on sukuna.

he doesn’t really keep up with social media or trends—thinks they’re stupid. he only has an instagram because you begged him to get one so he could see your posts, and it’s literally just a black profile picture with the username mygirlfriendmadememakethisbullshit, and a bio that reads:

“fuck off im married.”

you’re not, but sukuna declares every single day that you’re his bride-to-be, ridiculously possessive about it too.

you’re his.

he’ll do anything to make sure you know that.

thankfully, his complete lack of knowledge when it comes to social media means you can play all the stupid, silly pranks on him, and he never sees them coming. and his reactions never fail to amaze you.

sometimes, you swear you can practically see steam billowing from his ears like some cartoon character. he’s embarrassingly easy to rile up.

your lips curl into a mischievous smirk for only a second before you replace it with a silky, saccharine-glossed pout.

“here,” you hum, holding the bottle out. “you try first.”

sukuna’s large hand practically swallows the bottle, fingers covering most of the label before he tips it back and takes a long swig.

immediately, he makes a face—teeth clenched, jaw tightening as he sucks in a breath, grimacing, his expression twisting in disgust.

“tastes like garbage,” he says bluntly, holding the bottle out for you to take back. “too sweet.”

you crinkle your nose. “what? gimme. i’ll be the judge of that. your tastebuds suck.”

he stares at you, his expression completely deadpan.

“clearly they don’t if i’m with you.”

heat pools low in your stomach from his compliment. you smile, pink dusting your cheeks, teasing him back.

“duh. i’m the exception.”

you snatch the bottle from him, bringing the edge of your shirt up to wipe the rim—erasing a part of him, or at least that’s what sukuna thinks as it takes him a second to fully process what you’ve just done.

his mouth tilts into something almost amused, a dangerous sort of smirk, but his crimson eyes narrow to slits, irritation flickering through them as the telltale vein in his forehead pulses.

you bring the bottle to your lips, forming a small “o” around the opening.

sukuna’s red-inked eyes narrow further, tracking every minuscule movement, locked onto you completely like a predator watching its prey—well, without the bloodshed.

“ooo, yummy,” you hum. “tastes like bubblegum.”

he swears you’re going to be the death of him—he’s had enough with your little tricks.

“what the fuck was that, huh?” he snaps. “treatin’ me like i’m some fuckin’ scum?”

you laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but he’s already moving.

rough hands manhandle you effortlessly, yanking the bottle from your grasp before he takes another massive swallow.

one large hand grips your jaw, thumb prodding at your soft lips, forcing your mouth open, holding it wide as he spits the fizzy soda back into your mouth.

he settles against his chair again like nothing happened, watching intently as you swallow it all down.

his hand lightly slaps your cheek, palm heated against your flesh, no real sting—only the phantom lingering touch that makes you feel a little too desperate for more.

“don’t do that stupid shit again,” he says, voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering with a sudden, aching need for him.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!

note: first time writing for sukuna.. how did i do?? this was inspired by a tiktok trend btw