Roryy:3

Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've known and loved him first before this entire ordeal even happened and blew up — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation.

Nearly a decade has passed since everything concluded: Gojō Sensei is unsealed and alive and has won the fight, Kenjaku is killed, lost a lot of people in the process, Yūji is permanently Sukuna's vessel (not a big deal anymore), and for some twisted reason, Yūji seems to stop aging altogether (the big deal). 

With Jujutsu Tech slowly being rebuilt to a "better" version, a lot of you have also opted to stay in the dorms for the mere convenience of it. That, and it's basically a coping mechanism for everyone.

And as with everything else, his predicament doesn't truly stop either of you from doing things you love and from being intimate around each other. But where Yūji excels in self-control against what's residing within him, it appears that the majority of that said will, if not everything, is thrown out the window the second you go and beg to be fucked.

And fucked real good. Or badly. Whichever way one wishes to put it.

Maybe that's partly on you, or him, or even both of your asses to blame. But, really? Can you blame yourself when Yūji looks stupidly hot all the damn time? Stupidly, massively hot and bothered?

Especially when he wears a simple white shirt which accentuates how broad he is everywhere, when he looks like his brain stops functioning and he's looking at you with only the thought of fucking you bone-dry, and his dick decides to run on autopilot and take him to a blissful place right between your thighs.

Yes, can you really blame anyone with how immaculate he is?

"So tight, baby," Yūji says between clenched teeth.

A vein appears in the middle of his forehead, contemplating whether he should start moving and ram his cock all the way in or give you a chance to adjust to his girth first.

"Ah, Yūji," you whine, "just go in. Stop teasing."

"T-Teasing? I'm not teasing, sweetheart." He manages to choke an incredulous and breathy laugh at your whining. "You think this is easy for me, too?"

You playfully slap his muscled arm. "Shut up! You know what I mean!"

"Damn, even after all that," Yūji grits. "Even after all the sex we had every night, you're still tight."

With a shuddering exhale, Yūji grinds forward, pressing himself deeper into your petaled hole until you whine and drag your nails up and down his back and coax him closer.

"Oh, yes, baby. Shit —yes, yes, — yes," he incessantly babbles. "You're sucking me in completely. I could come right here — shhiiit!"

His lips head for yours and capture you in a heartbeat. Your nails move towards the front where you lift the hem of his shirt to feel his toned stomach. A languid moan erupts from your throat, and Yūji relishes swallowing your sounds.

His name echoes past your lips soon after he breaks contact. Each drawl of the consonant you utter is like a song of reverent praise that effectively shuts him up.

"You're taking me so well." He whispers, eyes glazed. "Such a good girl you are for me."

"Baby," you whine again, locking your legs around his waist.

"I know, I know." Yūji moans at the feeling, more so when he feels your teeth tease the crook of his neck.

It's intoxicating; it leaves his fogged-up brain even more fogged, and it's taking him greater lengths to fight through both of your horniness to keep himself at a steady, level pace for you. Otherwise, you'd probably be limping for days, even resort to crawling if you need to get to point B.

Hell . . . that doesn't sound bad at all.

"Oh, baby, please don't do that. You know I'm sensitive there." He lightly scolds you, pulling at your hair in warning.

"But you taste so good, though."

He supposes if he's going to fuck you the way he wants to, how long he intends to, and the way you let him, then he's not going to deny you what you want to do with him, too.

In fact, if he isn't so gung-ho with you and your immaculate pussy that's still sucking him in greedily as he continues to stretch you, and if he didn't let his dick dictate his decisions, then he would most definitely relish the prospect of you dominating him.

Oh, because if you only know, Yūji would definitely submit to you. Maybe right now you'd possibly doubt that he would, given that he always wishes to be inside you or put you in positions you didn't think you could and do this or that for him. But honest to God, if you tell him to be on his hands and knees for you, he will get that shit done pronto. Put a collar on him or whatever — he doesn't care. Everything you could do to him screams sexy and a lot of sex. So, who is he to refuse that?

"Harder," you find yourself begging him, "please. Yes — yes, right there!"

Yūji's arms that are propped on either side of you buckle before quickly rebalancing himself enough to take most of his weight off of you. "Shh, Fushiguro might hear us. You don't want that, noh?"

"Then he should cover his ears!" You rebuke teasingly. "He knows better. Isn't he the smartest of the bunch here? Come on! He should put his brain to work. Chop, chop, Megumi!"

"S-Stop! Don't make me laugh right now." Yūji bites his lips. "I'm really horny, and I don't want to be un-horny because I'm thinking about other stuff that isn't you."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," You apologize, but it turns into a chuckle because you didn't think you'd be thinking about it, too.

"Relax for me," Yūji attempts to bring the mood back, salvaging what's left of it from your silly, little antics. "That's it, baby. Ease into me again."

Yūji's hold around your thighs changes until your legs rest upon his shoulders, and he pounds against you like an animal in heat. From this new position, his cock sinks further. Skin slaps against skin. While your breathing becomes coarse and ragged, Yūji sounds the same except for minuscule groans of pleasure now and then.

Then, he folds you in half, situates himself a little higher, and pistons his cock back in. You haven't realized you're drooling until he licks the sides of your face.

"Open your mouth." He says, and when you do, he spits twice. "Swallow."

There's a trail of saliva connecting you two when he pulls back. His eyes, however, are transfixed heavily upon the bulge that's appeared at the base of your stomach.

"Remind me to buy a mirror next time. I want you looking at yourself like this. It's so hot, I swear." Yūji drools. "You're so good, baby. So, so, good. Oh — fuck!"

Just when he spills inside of you, and you're about to come down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the room and breaks your release easily as if he had done this countless times before.

"Enchain."

Suddenly the ceiling becomes the bed sheets as you are flipped onto your hands and knees. Your muffled confusion doesn't go unheard, but other pressing matters come first. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases the shell of your ears.

"Yū —?"

"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice rumbles deeply against your skin.

This is the first time he's ever graced you with his presence. You've heard stories of how Sukuna would frequently pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something atrocious to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and broken through Yūji like this before — and right in the middle of fucking, too.

"Heh," he yanks you closer, forcing you to look into his hungry eyes. The way he looks at you . . . as if you owe him the pleasure he has been denied for so long. "My vessel lost control. I want to know why."

Before you could have swung a cursed tool at him, to trap him within your cursed energy, enough to stall and call Megumi for help or anybody else should he decline, Sukuna slams your head against the bed and fucks you senselessly.

Is it to your imagination, or did Yūji's cock grow bigger? Because for some reason, when Sukuna thrusts into your hole, it's fuller. He is far more brutal and ornery with his movements, too.

"Take it all like you are meant to do."

This is wrong. This is terribly, insanely wrong. Here you are in the mercy of the sadistic curse, cackling like the bastard that he is that he found something to entice himself with, and yet . . . it's wrong to feel how good you're being fucked.

Sukuna nudges your legs with his knees to spread wider for him. His hands busy themselves by mockingly kneading your ass before slapping each cheek hard.

You yelp and bite the corner of the pillow hard. Unfortunately for you, Sukuna notices. He pulls you by the hair again, and tosses everything that would muffle your voice aside. There is a buzz of mischief you can feel swirling around his energy, but you can't decipher it all too well as he shoves you down to the mattress.

"Y-Yūji —"

"My name, brat —"

"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"

"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit.

Your back arches unknowingly to the sensation, and before you think twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"

"Good, little one." He mutters sadistically, inhaling the scent of pheromones pumping out from you.

His hands are everywhere that he can touch you, and even when he couldn't reach parts of your body, Sukuna merely bends you to his will and lets himself have you any way he pleases. Since the brat's been constantly denying him of you, it's only right that Sukuna gets to have fun with you now.

He fondles your breasts. He pinches your clit. Your thighs are scraped in thin lines of blood that bring him more arousal. Your asshole is gaping at each tense movement he makes out of you. His canines sink to the thin skin of your neck so deeply, he can taste your blood, fueling him into a messy plethora of moans and pleasure like he's drunk on his own aphrodisiac.

"Again." He orders.

"W-What?"

"My name. Only."

"Su-ku-na,"

"Louder. I won't tolerate what you refuse to give me. Say my name again, little one."

"Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!"

"That's it. Keep calling my name as you come."

Your orgasm comes to you like a torrent — harsh and unforgiving. Still, Sukuna doesn't stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away.

When you barely manage to make him pull out of you, and you start crawling, he easily drags you back.

"Oh? And where do you think you're going?" He lifts your ass and flicks your clit hard as punishment. "You do not run away from me, unless you want me to kill you."

"But, I need —"

"No."

"Sukuna, please!" You push his body away from you once more, desperately trying to get out of his strong grip. But damn, because of his strength and that it's also Yūji's body, and you know how sturdy he is, Sukuna doesn't budge. Not even a little. "Please, give me a moment."

"And what did I say?" He raises his brow questioningly.

He's fascinated by the way you react to him. When he lazily drawls his fingers around your inner thighs, you shake. When he lets his tongue graze the cup of your ass, you whine. And when he sniffs your cunt, and it smells promiscuously sour and preposterously sweaty, you sound like you're about to come again.

"N-Not there, not yet,"

"What did I say?" He challenges.

"I —" you sound close to weeping.

He pulls your hair. "What. Did. I. Say?"

"No!" You wail, moving restlessly. "You said, no!"

"Good. Ah, you're close. I can tell. I smell it."

And you are — were. When your orgasm hits you like a brick, your mouth could barely keen a sound. Your body caves and molds to Sukuna's shape. You don't need to look behind you to know that the bastard is smirking at how easy it is to make you submit to him. It's sickening since you already know he won't let this one up anytime soon, especially to Yūji.

There's an abrupt change between you and Sukuna once you feel his hold slacken. With him loosening his clutch around your chest, you allow yourself to breathe better and force your eyes to focus on your surroundings. That's when you realize you're flipped on your back, and your legs are locked around his waist again.

"S-Sukuna?"

"No, darling." Yūji breathlessly says. He brushes your hair away from your face. "It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?"

Reassuringly, you shake your head and smile at him. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."

"Yeah?" Yūji perks up.

"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating."

Yūji presses his forehead against yours. The heat is still visible in his eyes, though it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at before.

"That was hot," Yūji admits. His cock hardens against your thigh. "Watching you . . . like that."

"It was," you breathe out. "It really was."

There, beneath Yūji's hollowed eyes, your gaze lingers towards the triumphant gleam squinting at you in reds and blacks. It tells you exactly what is going through Sukuna's mind: that he's heard of that and he's nowhere near finished with you yet.

You swallow dryly.

"Are you tired?" Yūji brushes your cheek tenderly.

You shake your head. "I'll be fine."

"Let me fuck you next, then. Yeah?"

Before you can respond in return, Yūji grabs your hips and enters you. He folds you in half, quickly telling you to wrap your legs around his neck, and then proceeds to pound you as promised. This time, he doesn't hesitate. He thrusts harder and harder, nails scraping against your skin for support.

He spots the mark Sukuna made on your neck, and he dives to your other side with a growl. He laps onto your skin possessively, and you can feel that he's lost all patience with being gentle because the moment he bites down on you, it's not out of consideration anymore. Yūji is claiming you.

"Come for me this time." He sternly orders. His hands lay flat on your stomach, feeling the bulge he caused. "For me. Come for me."

"Yūji — fuckfuckfuck — Yūji!" Something uncontrollable comes out of you, and you realize a second sooner that you've squirted all over him. Your juices drip from his bare chest and down to his untrimmed bush. "I'm sorry, I —"

Yūji stiffens. "What the fuck, Sukuna!"

"Enchain."

"Oh my God, Yūji, come back! Give Yūji back for the love of God!"

"Do that again. Squirt for me, little one." Sukuna growls.

"That was an accident. I — I — I didn't mean for that to happen." You admit, trying to regain proper breathing because, goddamn it, you won't be able to with this fool in the front. "Just give Yūji back!"

"Let me bring it out of you then."

It's obvious to you now that both of them have their preferences in terms of fucking you. While Yūji prefers that both of you are staring at one another and lose each other together in the art of fuckery, Sukuna does anything with you so long as either his dick or mouth is inside of you.

Sukuna lies down and pulls you up until your cunt is angled to his face. You grip the headboard for support, but then you realize that his hold on you is steady and firm. You aren't swaying even when he blows a warm bubble of air directly to your dripping mound.

Then, with his hold tightening, he buckles you down to his mouth and eats you out.

"Ah, Sukuna!" You squawk, gripping his hair. You hear the wet squelches you make from his tongue.

"You're learning." He commends. The deep gravel of his voice vibrates past your pubic hairs and sends you a jolt of pleasure that goes straight to your spine.

And just as when you are once again teetering on the edge of another orgasm, he unexpectedly stops with a loud popping sound and watches your reaction.

You try to move, yet he keeps you at bay.

Of course, King of Curses be damned, when you're this high in being so aroused and utterly fucked by not one but two of them, the consequences of your actions are the least of your concerns. And not even someone who's feared by all is going to stop you.

You swat his hands that are holding you away and rock yourself against his mouth. He teasingly fights for control, but you pin his hands above his head. A spark in his gaze tells you he's enjoying this bit.

Your hair hits his nose and grazes the top of his lips — but you hardly care. If Yūji doesn't care that you're growing your own little forest down there, surely Sukuna wouldn't either. And if he does, then that isn't your problem. He can return your lover to you and fuck off.

You're in a fit of moans and shameless whines, as you ride your pleasure away.

"Open yourself wider for me." He speaks quietly.

Your hands release their hold on him, and you reach down to spread your labia open. He sniffs you obscenely loud, then he seizes your pearl between his teeth, rolls it around torturously, and licks you hard. Instinctively, you buck your hips down on him.

Sukuna pulls a few strands of your pubic hair; it's painful, but it does the trick when you finally squirt all over his face.

"Fuck! Please, I'm coming, Sukuna! SukunaSukuna!"

He slaps your ass in delight. "Good, little one."

Sukuna's control weakens again, and you realize Yūji's coming back. You laugh deliriously, because any person would be wondering what on earth is happening. Never have you thought that both of them would —

"Aw, baby," Yūji coos. "You taste so good."

"Yūji," you call out tiredly.

"Are you tired? We can stop, baby. It's okay."

"No, I want you to fuck me. Please, baby? I want you."

"I've been trying to all night, but someone just keeps —"

"Lift her, brat."

Your eyes widen when you see Sukuna's smile appearing on Yūji's left cheek.

"Shut up!" Yūji slaps himself.

"She will love it. Lift her. Or I will be taking over."

Yūji snarls a curse or two, but obeys nonetheless. He hasn't had his own proper share of fill with you yet, thanks to some bastard.

He hefts you up with your back pressed securely against his chest, his arms cage you so that even if you move, squirm, or wiggle your ass against his throbbing, veiny cock, Yūji promises you within his hold that you will not be dropped.

"Fold her and raise her legs."

"Baby, I just want to ask if that's all right." He grinds himself to your ass.

"Yes! Fuck yes, Yūji! Just do it! Hurry up and fuck me already before he switches with you again!"

Yūji groans. He raises both of your legs until his head is placed between them, and then his dick slides back into your entrance fluidly.

You become a sobbing mess for him.

"Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you're so flexible?" Yūji kisses your collarbone. "You're so hot, being folded like this."

In and out. In and out does the motion go. Regardless of whether you're exhausted or not, Yūji's stamina is unbecoming.

Your eyes roll back, your tongue lolls out, and all you can respond to Yūji or Sukuna or even both at this point — you don't care anymore who is fucking you — are all the jumbled slurs of their names, of you begging, of you wanting more, and more, and so much more.

"Enchain."

"Su — kuna,"

"Submit to me, little one. Submit."

"I submit. I submit! I submit!"

"Let that shadow brat hear you against the walls. I bet he's enjoying hearing you right now, too. My vessel is pretty turned on by what's happening; he’s not even complaining about the switch."

"Ah! Mpmh! Ah!"

"What is the matter? Where are your words?"

"Mmmh,"

"Oh? Are you enticed by the mere idea that somebody else, who is neither me nor your brat, is hearing you being fucked too good?"

"Nng — mphm — I —"

Sukuna pinches your cheeks and angles you enough to look at him.

"Speak."

"Y-Yes! I love this!"

"Well done. Rub yourself. The brat won't stop talking my fucking ear out, so do it for him. I do intend, however, to make you come before he takes control again."

You nod numbly.

"Do not stop until you have come, you have squirted, or you have fainted. I care little what comes first or if all comes together.” Sukuna licks the spot where he's marked you. "If you had been born in the era that I was, I would've taken you as my —"

"I-I'm coming!" You pull hard at his pink hair for support.

"Then come, little one. Come as much as you want."

For the last time tonight, Sukuna's control wavers. But before he returns to his realm, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips caressing the side of your face like a lover he didn't mean to find.

"I got you," Yūji whispers, "I got you. Just keep coming, baby. That's it. You're my good girl. You did so well. So perfect."

Yūji, with his dick still inside of you, slowly lowers you to the bed, tucks a stray strand of loose hair behind your ear, and nuzzles you comfortingly. "How are you feeling?"

"Baby," you try to speak, "too full."

"I'm nearly there. Can you handle one more? For me? Can you, darling?"

"Okay."

"That's my girl." After several pumps and his own release, Yūji finally pulls himself out. "Just rest for now. You're probably too tired."

Without looking at him, you quietly ask, "Sorry, was it . . . too weird for you?"

"I was surprised that it wasn't . . ." He admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Clearing your throat, you reach out for his hand. "Think we can do it again another time?"

"Baby, I thought you'd never ask." Yūji teases lightly. "But maybe we need to set ground rules. Wouldn't wanna complicate things, y'know."

"Hmm, true."

With what's left of your energy, you manage to kiss the tip of his nose before burying yourself into his warm embrace.

You pat the sheets. "Ugh, we need to do laundry tomorrow. Maybe before we go on the mission. Your bed smells."

"Hey! This is all from you, I hope you know." He pauses. "Wait, I like it. Can't I keep it for one more day?"

"Ew. No."

"Didn't hurt to ask . . ."

"Okay," you tap his arm to let you go, "gotta pee before I get an infection."

"Yeah, okay,"

The calm silence between you two doesn't last long when someone bangs against the door angrily, and you hear Megumi's voice calling out to you and Yūji.

And Sukuna. You might as well drag him with you, too.

Megumi also must've summoned his dog because you hear a couple of growls and something scratching the bottom of the door.

"Whatever orgy you all are doing in there, take it elsewhere next time!"

"Ha! And he could've said that shit sooner?"

© ohfreshlinen — all rights reserved. do not modify, edit, steal, or plagiarize my content.

for the premise of this fic, "enchain" is not going to be a one-time used deal between sukuna and modulo!yūji — i need it to be used multiple times just for the plot 😗

ಇ . . . superboy-prime yaps while fucking you silly !

"no, oh my god, babe," he chuckles, hot mouth kissing the column of your neck so sweetly, letting his mumbled info-dump seep into your skin. "see, togruta and twi'lek appendages have completely different functions—"

you moan, soft and unsteady and all too susceptible to the way his cock sits so snugly in you. he rocks into your heat, seemingly unaffected by the way you gasp and flutter when he brushes the spot that makes your head spin and your pussy squelch like one of the eldritch monsters he loves.

and he just keeps talking.

he presses his flushed cheek to yours. sinks the thick fingers of his left hand into the plush of your thigh, plays with your slick, throbbing clit with his right thumb. casually lets a smirk play on his stupid, cute mouth—you can feel the impression of his dimple—as his voice dips into gravel against the shell of your ear:

"twi'lek lekku are prehensile and have some limbic cortex function, so physiological expression of emotion and language—"

sharp need coils tighter in your belly, making you whimper into the warmth of his neck. "mm, c—"

"shh, i know, baby," clark rasps, letting the hand on your thigh travel up and press firmly below your navel. you feel all of him, every ridge and vein, slipping out a pitched sound caught between a choked groan and a squeal.

he continues, though this time thrusting a little more urgently, thank god. "and togruta lekku are connected to their montrals, which—fuck, you just got so tight—ah, are used for echo-locative purposes because their species is carnivorous..."

"'m gonna cum, clark," you pant, eyes squeezing shut as the pads of your fingers press against his scarred, sculpted chest desperately. he hums, nosing your cheek and flicking your swollen bundle of nerves like a joystick.

"okay, okay, 'm sorry," is the hushed, completely unapologetic reply. clark's cock lets the filthy, wet sound of him plunging in and out of your cunt speak for his mouth, which is sucking a new hickey into your shoulder.

still, you can tell that he wants to talk—the tense line in his broad, muscular shoulders says so.

"that's it, that's it, c'mon sweetheart, give it to me..."

you cum on his cock with a choked cry, senses dimming as your system sharpens on the overwhelming pleasure spilling from your core, the rhythmic clench of your walls around him.

you decided to give him a chance and bring him to your place that was closer. he was really not what you expected, he talked like a caring gentleman back at the pub, but the second you entered your apartment, he immediately pushed you on the couch and ripped off your underwear. he roughly manhandled you, and you let him do it.

after multiple orgasms on the sofa, he picked you up and proceeded in your bedroom. he took you harshly in doggy style, your cheek flat against your mattress. you were a babbling mess as his balls rapidly met your ass cheeks, his hands firmy gripping your hair to make you stay in place. you could hear his gruff voice behind you, however you were too far gone to decipher what he was saying to you.

when you woke up next morning he was gone, you found a scratch of paper on your bedside table, his number.

that's how your first night ended, it was the beginning of it.

it’s been a few months now, and you noticed a change in john’s attitude. he doesn’t leave immediately after you fall asleep anymore, you always find him sleeping soundly next to you in the morning, he even made you breakfast once.

he always pays for you when you meet at the pub, even when you order takeout, he never said anything about it ; you never questioned it either.

the most shocking one was how he acted in bed, the 'fuckin’ slut' turned into 'takin’ me so well, luv'. the way he couldn’t help but put his lips on your skin, lips as he fucked you. or how he gently brushed strands of hair off your sticky face when you were completely cock drunk.

but what really made you realize that everything changed was when you woke up at 3am, your phone buzzing. you grabbed it and got slightly stunned by the screen light 'Jonathan' proudly showing on it. you frowned, price was on a deployment since a few weeks now, was he okay ? you heard his gruff voice when you picked up, "i don’t know why i called you, luvie" a faint sight escaped his lips, "do you miss me?" it was his way to say that he did. you chuckled softly, and price felt his heart squeeze at the other end of the line.

you stayed on the phone quite a long time, before you heard someone call him.

You first meet him in a live-drawing class, something to get you back into art after you'd fallen out of touch with the demands of your job. Soap followed you out the door and practically begged for you to let him paint you.

At first you didn't believe it because...really? You saw his work. He paints, well, pretty people. People who make your heart pound. Not...gritty everyday people, the nicer term for ugly.

Then he says "please? you're the most beautiful thing I've seen, an' I haven't been able to paint for weeks! C'mon, just an hour or two?"

And...well...you sympathize with the artists block. So you agree, just an hour or two.

An hour turns into five, turns into chatting and coffee and a painting that makes you look so completely dazzling you cry right in front of him. From them on it's only natural you two become closer. More than a muse, moving in together.

Your apartment has never been so full of pictures of yourself. In swimwear, at the shops, smiling and laughing. The more...evocative ones are only hung up in the bedroom.

Soap makes you feel like your body is art. You spend hours looking between the paintings and yourself, trying to see the way he sees. When he's off on missions, too embarrassed to do it when he's around.

And then he comes back.

And the person they give you...isn't johnny.

Sure, he looks like johnny, and he smiles so wide at you when you see him. But...he's self-conscious now, reserved. He can hardly walk and he yells at you the first time you offer to cut his steak for him.

When johnny paints, the canvas is a scribbled mess of colours. Nothing is recognizable. Like the bullet went in and scrambled up all the thoughts in his head. You find torn up paper and canvas in the trash. You find his paints and his snapped brushes and all his supplies and you fish them out, salvage what you can.

Soap cries when he walks into the kitchen and finds one of his scribbled drawings on the fridge, proudly displayed next to his perfect rendition of you from a few months back.

Soap will never be able to draw again, not really, but he keeps painting. Like a shark, he has to keep moving or he may drown.

“Dont cover her up, Bonnie.”

His thumb spams the camera button, taking sloppy shots of what you imagine to be an even sloppier pussy after how desperate youve become.

“Cant we just do it normally? Why do you always gotta take pictures?” You fight the urge to ruin his shots, knowing youd only prolong his little photo shoot if you impeded.

He snaps a few more, fingers scissoring you open to catch the puffy and cute pink of your obscene hole before tossing the phone aside. “Needae restock before the next mission. You know I can’t be without this cutie for too long,” he says as his fingers curl nastily into you, pulling out a high pitched mewl.

You don’t know why you had asked. You knew had the sex drive of a rabbit in heat and he made sure you were aware of it, sending you pictures of cum dribbling down his shaft and fist after pumping himself to his favorite photo album that hes so carefully curated (with your help of course).

Now Johnny is a generous man- so much in fact that when he sees his poor teammates suffering with the same pent up frustration that he once had, he has the brilliant idea to share the wealth. It’s not uncommon for 2 or 3 men to huddle around his phone, eyes glued onto the way your pussy stretches to accommodate three of soaps fingers as he scoops out his cum lodged deep inside you.

And if the mission extends for longer than most, soap will receive a surprise video of you lamely humping his pillow with his name on your tongue. Your soft and delicate voice contrasts with the filthy pool of arousal that soaks the pillow. That video is on repeat till every man’s dick is limp.

Tags: [reupload][mlw][mdnr][tim's 19-20][oral (m! receiving)][handjob][servicedom!reader][cowgirl][reverse cowgirl][doggy style][msub][loss of virginity][strangers to lovers][ball sucking][nipple sucking][raw][drool][ass play]

AN. What the actual fuck. Like, legitimately. What the fuck.

Tim knows it's pretty pathetic to lose his virginity on a dating app but he also knows that tonight's the only night he'll have free time for a good long while.

Which is why he left the cave, barely with a thought in his mind other than to get laid. So much so that he forgets about the communication device stuffed into his ear, since he was, still technically, on duty.

But pussy first.

And besides, he needs to lose it before 20 otherwise he needs to legally change his name to Phil McCrack. The bet being courtesy of Jason, and Tim lets out a huff of a breath, readjusting his hoodie for what could only be the 8th time before he stares up at the door of your apartment.

Homemade dinner, a movie and sex.

That's all that's on the itinerary for tonight.

A jittery hand lifts and Tim pensively knocks on the pinewood. Anxious, excited, all the same but the preparedness seems to melt away when you pull open the door, hair pulled back and eyes staring up at him, and Tim swallows. Loud.

He's not prepared.

He isn't prepared at all.

You don't look like your picture.

You catfished him.

Your eyes are brighter in real life, he gets to watch the sweet smile take place on your lovely face, instead of just being limited to it being captured in pixels and he gets to see the way your head tilts at him, carefully giving him a once over before you step out of the way, letting him into the cozy apartment.

He's more nervous than he'd like to let on.

Tim wipes his palms on his sweatpants, shifting awkwardly on his feet before following you into the kitchen, watching intently as you slip on oven mitts, pulling out the cast iron tray from the oven and Tim stares at the large, homemade pizza.

Overflowing cheese, sweet red sauce peeking out along the crusts and pepperoni scattered so generously. And he lets out a shaky breath.

"It looks really good," Tim compliments softly, looking down at you with those pretty eyes as you give him a sweet smile, slicing the pizza into 8, setting 4 slices on his plate and 4 on yours.

"4 slices?" Tim questions softly and you simply nod your head.

"I can't take your virginity and send you home hungry. That's just a dick move."

Tim plants himself on the cushion next to you, sneakers discarded at the door, sock-covered feet tucked beneath him as he eats, occasionally glancing towards you but ultimately keeping his gaze on the TV.

He doesn't wanna ask about the ad about the lady in the corner of the screen, a Matilda that feels lonely.

"You're a lot more quiet than I thought." You hum softly, your voice breaking the peaceful yet awkward silence, and you glance at Tim from the corner of your eye. He likes the way you watch him.

Like a bug under a microscope and he shifts in his seat, the fabric of his sweatpants pulling tight against some parts of his lean muscles as he makes himself more comfortable.

"I'm... Not really sure how this works. In all the things I've seen... It's usually just like, a meet and... Well, you know." Tim awkwardly shifts again, taking another bite of his pizza and his lashes flutter at the peppery cheese that fills his mouth and absentmindedly, you reach forward, wiping a smudge of cheese away from the corner of his mouth.

And Tim's heart rate skyrockets.

"Well, if you don't feel comfortable at the end of the night, we don't have to do anything. I'm not gonna force you." You reassure him sweetly, licking the cheese from your thumb before you continue eating, your attention on the cartoon in front of you. And Tim nods his head, muttering a soft 'okay' before he continues eating.

Tugging the edge of his hoodie down to hide his downright throbbing cock, and he tries to continue eating, chewing with the occasional glance at your expression.

Lips glistening with the sheen of fatty food, your cheeks puffed with the way you eat and tresses framing your face in the prettiest way. You've got such... Distinct features, perfect lips and the slope of your nose makes him groan inwardly at the thought of your nose tucked in the fleshy spot between the base of his cock and his full, almost swollen balls. The way you'd inhale his musk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive flesh.

And Tim coughs.

Desperate to clear away those thoughts and he looks back at his plate. He's only managed to put away 2 and a half slices, whereas your plate's empty.

And something about that, just makes his cock twitch, a thick bead of precum rolling down his base and he feels the way it forms a wet spot on his boxers.

"So, you said you're in college?" Tim hums, elbows braced on the countertop, his attention locked on yours as you indulge in his caffeine addiction as though you've done it a million times before. Practiced motions, a lowered gaze as you move around your kitchen with the comfort he's only ever seen Alfred hold in a kitchen but his gaze remains locked on your hands.

Dainty and manicured nails grasping a froggy mug, your nails tapping against the glazed ceramic as you stir, the muscles in your forearm flexing ever so slightly and Tim's surprised when he doesn't paint the inside of his boxers at the sight of your tongue running across your teeth when you place the mug in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm in college. I'm doing a literature degree." You state with a sweet hum, opening a cabinet and pulling out a bag of cookies, opening it up and placing it between the two of you.

Your kitchen isn't lit too brightly, downlights that have a dimmer switch that sets the room in a lovely, low light. Intimate and sweet, as you take a bite of a cookie, crumbs dotting your lips before you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip.

And the action is downright sinful.

Devious.

Malicious.

Nefarious.

The list goes on and on.

"You said you intern at Wayne Enterprises?" You hum softly, and Tim nods his head, taking a sip of his coffee and God, his cock's twitching as the taste burns his tongue in the best way possible.

Rich, earthy with the strongest aroma.

Tim's barely paying attention as you speak, his eyes locked on your pouty and perfect lips as you speak before he interjects.

"I'm ready for sex, please."

The desperate quiver in his voice, alongside the abruptness, makes you let out a snort of laughter. "Are you ready... Like... Biologically?" You question, your head tilting in that way that makes his mind melt and he nods sheepishly.

"Yeah. I've been ready for almost 2 hours."

"Shit, shit, shit." Tim's chest heaves, his long, inky lashes fluttering as he feels the way you stroke him so sweetly, your hand wrapped around his flared base, lips pressing sloppy kisses all along his glistening cock. Beads of precum drip down, pooling at his heavy sack and Tim's elegant digits card through your hair, undoing your hairtie and sliding the vibrant red elastic on his wrist, opting for playing with your hair instead.

And Tim's sure he's fucking dying when you're wrapping those soft, plush lips around his flushed tip, beads of translucent fluid filling your tongue and your hand continues to squeeze his base, his hips jerking and twitching. And Tim lets out a breath, moans slipping past his lips as his back arches.

"Fuck, that's so good..." Tim stutters, his plump, pink bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the sounds.

And Tim's eyes widen, his head tossing back and he lets out that deep, long groan as his fingers fist in your hair.

Your mouth leaves his cock, globular rivulets of saliva coating his tip before you fist it, your soft palm twisting over the sensitive flesh as you gently stroke his cock, the ball of your nose pressed against his cock as your tongue curls against the swell of his balls.

And Tim pushes your face deeper, forcing you to inhale that musky, smoky scent that makes you so dizzy, your cunt throbbing between your pressed together thighs. And he whimpers sheepishly.

"God, keep— keep doing that, please..."

Tim begs so sweetly, feeling the way you thumb at his slit, forcing out gooey beads of clear as you tilt your head, tongue curling around his sack and Tim feels his cock twitch. Before he whines, swatting at your hand before he urges you to pull away.

"I— I'm gonna come too quickly if—... If you keep doing that..." Tim's ears burn with embarrassment, cock twitching and leaking copious amounts of precum and you let out a soft snort of laughter.

"I don't mind." You reassure softly, leaning upwards to press a sweet kiss against the curve of his jaw.

"It's your first time. You don't have to impress me."

Tim doesn't know how to answer that, simply shifting and scooting back, while you find purchase straddling one of his thighs, clothed cunt grinding against the thick muscle, hard and rigid beneath you as you gently stroke his cock.

Tim leans back on his palms, his head tipping back as you press soft, lingering kisses against the soft, milky skin of his neck. Your kisses are wet, sticky with his precum and your saliva, your hand moving to card through his obsidian strands, while the other traces along the bulging veins of his cock.

It's too much.

Way too much.

Fuck, it's way too much.

And Tim whines, nails digging into the sheets and creasing the pale green comforters beneath his palms as his hips jerk, jets of pearly cum making a mess of your hand and you smear the creaminess all around his cock, a ring forming at the base.

Tim doesn't know what to do.

If he's supposed to pull your hand away, if he's supposed to cry, if sex is supposed to be the next step but tears are forming on his lash line, his face flushing and sweat forcing strands of his bangs to cling to his forehead.

And he whimpers so sweetly when you pull your hand away from him, pressing the sweetest kiss against his temple before pushing his hair out of his face.

"Where do you want me?" You ask him softly, tongue trailing along the shell of Tim's ear and he shivers, biting his bottom lip to stifle that shaky breath.

"On top... Please."

Tim's basically a pillow princess.

Hands bracketing your hips, fingers digging into the fat and his eyes remain locked on where your perfect pussy swallows his length, slick and squelchy sounds ringing out alongside the ambiance of the Gotham city rain.

"Fuck, you're so tight."

Tim groans softly, brows knitting into a pinched frown and his eyes lift, brilliant and teary diamond blue eyes stare, gaze locked on the sight of your chest, bouncing in tandem with the your hips bounce. The fleshy globes of your ass repeatedly smack against his thighs, the warmth of your cunt fits him snugly and he whines underneath you.

You're warm. You're tight. You're so wet, and your slick drips down his veins with each grind of your hips.

"You're so fucking deep..." You breathe out with a moan, breathy voice and hazy eyes because you didn't expect him to stretch you out this good.

And Tim doesn't know what sort of sick, twisted mist blankets his brain, but the drool that trickles down his lips do nothing to cool him from the lusty heat that urges him to lean forward, his tongue dragging along one of your pert buds and the action pulls tingles from your brain. You lean forward, one hand moving to grab the headboard, nails leaving scratches along the painted wood as your hips grind and roll.

Tim's hips are weak as they thrust up into you, uncoordinated and sloppy, so weak as his entire mind is consumed with the action of his tongue swirling and teasing your nipples. He's drooling, slobbering all across your chest but the sloppiness of his motions just makes him more endearing.

"Ohhh, you're so fucking pretty." You croon to him gently, fingers scratching at his hair and tugging him closer to your chest.

The air between the two of you are charged with the sense of sexual tension being explored, alongside sticky and messy sex, and the smell of coffee on your mingled breaths. And Tim doesn't waste time pulling away from your oversensitive and abused nipples, before leaning forward, his tongue meeting yours in a heated kiss that would leave pornstars envious of the amateurish moments.

Hands paw at the fat of your ass and fingertips dig into whatever flesh they can find, and Tim's eyes roll back in his head when your hips roll, the tip of his cock buried in your gummy walls while his shaft is exposed to steamy air of your bedroom.

Tim feels the way he throbs inside you, slick and precum mixing into a debauched cocktail that leaves his pelvis glistening in a sheen that matches your pretty cunt, your pillowy pussy lips glossy with the mess.

"Fuck me harder— shit, fuck me harder." Tim whimpers and whines, his attention lowering to the way your hips slam down on his, and he feels like the air's being pulled out of his lungs. Especially with the way gummy walls pull him in, all the way to the depths of your cunt.

Tim can barely form a coherent thought when you turn around, your back facing him and he gets to watch that devious arch from up close and he gets to watch the fat of your ass bounce off his hips. And it's... Hypnotic.

It leaves him wondering if your ass is sentient and Tim's hands move to grip the plump cheeks, spreading them apart to watch the way you take him all the way. And his eyes lift just a bit, and he's staring that pretty, neat and puckered hole down. Before he bites his bottom lip, turning his attention towards you for the briefest moment but you're too cockdrunk to have a coherent thought in your head.

And he licks his thumb, covering the pudgy digit in saliva before he begins to circle your winking, furled rim and he nearly screams at the way you clamp down on him.

And you're coming before you even fucking know it, bucking like a wild, desperate horse, your hips rolling like you're on a mechanical bull and Tim's finger slips past the threshold.

And then, when your brain's muddled and rendered useless enough for you to be pliable, he's fucking you.

He's found himself on his knees, your face pushed into the mattress and your back arched so sluttily as you let him rut into you mindlessly, one hand pressing down at the middle of your back, forcing your arch to deepen.

Your hair's a tangled mess and those rosy lips are parted and letting out the sluttiest whines and praises.

And Tim's finally found something better than his top three wants in life:

Cracking a case.

Coffee.

Bruce's approval.

And he's finding that better thing in the most unorthodox of ways: rearranging the insides of a college girl two years older than him. Bullying his fat cock into your sloppy cunt as praises pour from your lips, your words so honeyed and your pussy so syrupy.

"Good boy."

"Fuck me harder."

"Just like that."

All push him towards the edge and Tim's hips become frantic, blunt nails digging into your hips as he nears his orgasm at a rate that makes his body shiver and shudder, skin prickling with goosebumps and droplets of sweat running down his muscles.

"Where do I—"

"Anywhere you want."

And Tim's hips stutter, cum filling your cunt to the brim and his hips twitch, using you to milk him empty before pulling out and he falls back against the headboard, hazy eyes watching the way pearly cum trickles down your folds, pooling between your knees.

"You know...." You pant softly. "I didn't know you had a hearing aid..."

You shift, moving to sit on your haunches before turning to face Tim, plopping down and your naked form melts against his, and his arms fold over you on instinct.

"What— what... do you mean?" He murmurs lazily and you reach up, tapping the device in his ear.

Shit.

୨✮ৎ────────୨✮ৎ────────୨✮ৎ

"Good job, Red Robin."

"Yeah, Tim." Jason snickers. "Keep doing a good job. Just. Like. That."

Sleeping Beauty

Synopsis: in which your roommate can only be woken up with your tongue inside her

Warning: cnc, somnophilia, consensual deal, perv!reader?, fem!reader, lesbianssss, cunnilingus, reference to thigh grinding, non curse au, college au, breast play, belly press technique, Shoko art by @_3aem on X, not proofread Word Count: 2.7k

Roommate!Shoko who is a deep sleeper and has been known to miss classes because she just won’t get the fuck up. Her body does as it pleases; she wakes up on her own time, usually hours later, scratching her head and yawning. 

“Morning, sexy.” She plops her entire body weight upon your back, then nuzzles the crook of your neck, and mumbles, “I missed my brunch plans with Dumb and Dumber again. They’re gonna be so mad. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“Why can’t you just wake up?” you ask in concern, pretending you can’t feel her tits on your back.

“Because you’re not in my arms,” she replies. 

“Ha. Ha.”

mdni | warnings: smut, fem reader, massive size kink, post-gym sukuna, muscle/bulk worship, couch sex, mating press, praise-degradation mix, creampie, exhausted but feral sukuna

The door SLAMS and the whole apartment feels it.

Sukuna doesn’t even kick his shoes off. He’s wrecked after three brutal hours of squats, deadlifts, and whatever else he’s been forcing down his throat to feed this insane bulk. He just drops onto the couch like a goddamn mountain giving up. The frame creaks loud under all that new mass. Tank top soaked black with sweat and clinging to every thick slab of his chest. Sweat dripping down the column of his neck. Those gray sweats stretched in an obscene way over thighs that have doubled in size, heavy and veined and still pumped from the session. Shoulders so wide they swallow half the damn couch. Traps eating his neck. Quads bulging so thick the cushions sink deep beneath him.

He throws his head back, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving.

“Fuck… long day, brat. Don’t start with the attitude.”

But you’re already staring, eyes glued to him like you physically can’t look away. Your mouth goes dry. Heat coils tight and insistent low in your belly.

God, when did he get this big?

you were a virgin. well, for a reason. it was rooted in puritan traditions as well as an idealistic personal choice of wanting your first to be with someone you marry.

“this isn’t sex. so don’t worry” satoru flashed a puerile smile, showcasing his milk white canine teeth which dug in to his spit glossed lips.

his cock, colored in a deeper shade of wisteria with protruding veins woven around, slid on the thin layer of your dampened panties. your thighs were parted with his obstinate hands, both knees pressed right on the mattress; having you in full view.

your cotton panties, were too wet, clinging on to you—even more so, due to him caressing and pressing it on your skin with the help of his shaft to vividly showcase the lining of your pussy.

“relax cutie, this is within the rules” albeit, it actually wasn’t.

clearly not at all. but all you could do was let out indecent whimpers of bittersweet pleasure. satoru’s idea of celibacy was simple. anything but the intercourse—which was totally wrong but oh well. “come on, baby. don’t be shy”. his cheeky cadence trapped you in a profane dichotomy; left you teetering between a rebuke or an allowing of him to continue his orgasmic torture.

“’toru, mhm, n–no..” puny protests scrambled from your mouth earning a teasing chuckle from him. “haah—please” but it all simply met with complete disregard.

satoru’s bulky tip, a muted smudge of a pastel pink, was already salivating. a string of thick pre-cum on his slit, dispersed itself on the wetness of your panties. “hm, you sure say no but you are dripping for me” he uttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the underside of his length on to your clothed folds. “yeah, feel this huh?”.

a hedonistic smiled etched on to his porcelain face, the corner of his lips formed a torpid crescent. mischievously, his pale fingers guided himself in between your folds, his dick grinding itself between your puffed labia. “fuck, you seriously do grip like a damn virgin”.

he squeezed the bulbous head of his cock, his speed increasing with needy pantings. sweat beads laid artistry of webs on his forehead, temple and neck. his pearl luminescent face was flush with a spread of crimson from pure need and want.

his eyes had drooped, jaw tightened as he stretched the hem of your panties upwards till your naval. the movement caused the fabric to thin out—you could feel him. clearly. tangible even with the barrier of your soaked panties.

you let out a visceral moan when his tip nudged your clit with a soft, slow kiss. his cockhead traced the outline of your cunt, palpating red to stuff you full with his cum soiled dick.

“fuck, wonder what it’d be like inside this tight virgin pussy.” his lilt slowed, sensual as if aching with yearn. his blue-flamed orbs darkened in to a softer grey, half-lid, staring directly at you. “you ever wonder that, sweetie? this huuuge dick slowly filling you up, right inside this sweet little spot. would go all the way in yeah. mhm… ever think of so?”

“thinking about me bottoming out. you know what that is baby? every inch of me inside of you. inside your wet cunt. hmm, takin’ your virginity, corruptin’ every bit of your innocence.”

and there it was. with a few more incessant rubs against your outline, he spurted out thick loads of pasty-like cum on to you. his hand made sure milk all of it out, whorishly rubbing the cream all over your covered hole, giving your wet pussy a few slaps. “see, kept my word. didn’t i? no sex” an audacious statement formed with a complacent grin.

this wasn’t supposed to be.

the deal was simply to see what a penis looked like. not to have your best friend fuck you through your panties.

the first mistake was that the dorm room door wasn’t locked. the second mistake was assuming anyone would ever see 𝓨𝓾𝓳𝓲 𝓘𝓽𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓲 like this.

to the world, especially to people like nobara and gojo, yuji was sunshine incarnate. a sweet golden retriever with fists. he was so earnest and loud. the type of person who blushes at dirty jokes and apologizes more than finding excuses.

right now he was nothing like that.

you were beneath him, pressed into the mattress of his bed. his large frame loomed over you while his cock stretched your pussy wide open. his thrusts were unrelenting and unforgiving. you couldn’t think. you could barely breathe, also because his large hand was wrapped around your throat - tight enough to remind you who was in charge.

your pulse fluttered under his palm as you gasped his name. his warm eyes had turned dark with intent as he fucked you into submission.

“eyes on me,” he ordered.

you knew when he used that voice that he meant business. so, you obeyed. as a reward his thumb shifted to your windpipe, and applied pressure. heat coiled low in your stomach at how effortlessly he controlled the pace, the rhythm, even your breathing.

you were so close, and then— the door swung open.

“yuji, have you heard—”

you didn’t need to turn your head to know who it was. the sheer stunned vacuum of energy gave it away. yuji didn’t move, nor flinch, his hand still rested on your throat.

there was a long, fragile pause.

“what. the. hell. am i looking at?” nobara shrieked.

gojo, for once, didn’t have a witty comment ready. his blindfold hid his eyes, but the tilt of his head screamed theatrical disbelief. “yuji?” he drawled slowly. “is that you? or did sukuna finally decide to redecorate your personality?”

you were frozen and expected fully that yuji would scramble off and turn red. he did no such thing. his gaze flicked lazily toward the door, utterly unimpressed. “we’re busy.”

nobara made a strangled noise. “busy?!”

it felt almost grounding when yuji’s fingers tightened around your throat. even now he was protective as his body shielded yours completely.

“close the door,” he added calmly. “and knock next time.”

gojo’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again theatrically. nobara looked like she had just watched a puppy grow fangs. “since when do you—” she started.

yuji didn’t raise his voice when he held their gaze with an intensity that made even gojo pause. “out.”

there was something in his expression that said this wasn’t a joke, wasn’t a performance. this was his space and his girl.

gojo slowly pushed the door closed with one long finger. “fascinating,” he muttered. “our little golden retriever bites.”

the door clicked shut and the silence returned. yuji exhaled softly, gaze immediately returning to you. the hardness in his eyes melted a fraction. but his dominance stayed.

“sorry,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently along your jaw now. “where were we?” you swallowed as your pussy clenched tightly around his swollen cock. he smiled slightly. “right,” he whispered as he leaned down. “i was about to show you who owns this body.”

A/N: it's finally here oh rejoice i am free flies away

Criminal!Sukuna who’s scary as fuck. He’s so jacked it borders on obscene – muscles stacked on muscles and veins crawling beneath tattooed skin, shoulders stretching at the seams of his uniform. He’s got this sorta unperturbed vibe. Real musky and muscular, stalking around like he’ll beat up the first guy that looks at him wrong.

Criminal!Sukuna who got locked up for some undisclosed highly illegal bullshit nobody ever gets a straight answer about. Speculations are thrown around the prison yard – drug dealing. Drug trafficking. Body-part-trafficking. Cannibalism (yay!).

He doesn’t bother to correct anything. Just sits in the corner with an arm slung over one knee, brooding, grumbling “King of Curses, they used to call me..” beneath his breath. The nutjob.

Criminal!Sukuna who has the whole wing convinced there’s no way in hell he’s got a girl on the outside. Surely not. He’s so immature and ill-natured – even more so than his cellmate, Gojo. Which is saying something.

To the little lady who might end up having to deal with this brutish man, well.. Gojo extends his sincerest condolences. He’s fairly certain any sane person would run for the hills.

You are not sane. He supposes this is why you and Sukuna get along.

toji is big — in more ways than one. towering height at over six feet, shoulders so broad and wide, and his build is thick. it’s obvious he works out and puts in the time to get himself to look the way he does.

and you, his sweet girlfriend, love it more than anyone else. maybe a little too much, but you’ve never been one to be ashamed of how much you enjoy your boyfriend. which is why toji isn’t surprised that you like his physique so much, if anything it adds one more thing to his list of ways to tease you. it’s a win-win, for both of you.

he loves that you’re proud of him, loud in your ways of showing others—and him, that you’re obsessed with him. he feels a great sense of pride every time you cling to him in public or when he catches glimpses of you texting your friends about how damn hot he is.

but what he loves the most is when you’re under him, pupils dilated. if you look close enough, he can see them contorted into heart shapes, all the more proving how much you love the position he puts you in: encaged under his big frame, like he’s protecting you from the world.

“please, baby, just let me” satoru lamentably pleaded, desperation clung on to his tenor. his feverish cheeks, tinged a delicate crimson on the snowy skin, rested itself on the plumpness of your bare thighs, scorching his golden mark on it. his reprehensible whimpers of agony and intense need was narrowing all the routes of your five senses. “please– i’ll be good, just one taste.”

if his fraternity brothers found out, that their frat’s vice president was ignominiously reduced on to his knees, all because he wanted to have a taste of his girl’s raw cunt— then there would’ve been a hellish discourse upon the matter.

satoru gojo, who would commence parties of bright lights and foreign liquors. satoru gojo who would gulp down burns through his throat too easily, claiming ‘light work, no reaction’ even after seven shots of tequila. satoru gojo who called girls by their wrong names after waking up naked next to their shy faces, breaking their golden hopeful hearts so cruelly— now, was on his knees, in front of the campus’ shy girl, who was just as cruel as he was.

your legs were impeccably open, wide and candid, panties down to the ankle which satoru had been merely allowed to discard. the sight of your tempting pussy had satoru letting out a pathetic moan already as he kneaded himself through his grey sweats. he was so needy. so damn pathetic.

just to trace your glistening folds with the tip of his brute tongue. just to spittle and rub your clit bud by skillfully flattening of his tongue. simply just to eat you out, incessantly and ardently.

just for a lick, a taste of your juices.

“baby, please, please. let me. just a taste. i promise, i’ll be good. i’ll be so good to you” his begging fell to deaf ears. you had slipped on your panties, back into position, shielding your sweet glory away from him.

“then, now, do you believe me that i wasn’t with sukuna last night?” you batted your lustrous eyelashes, a sweet smile conquering your face. it was a lie, you were with sukuna last night.

satoru had been questioning you on it relentlessly, suspicious, but now— “yes, yes, yeah baby. i, shit, sorry. i’m such a dumbfuck for not trustin’ ya. of course i believe ya, doll”.

honestly, he had it all planned. like always.

you were supposed to be just another girl who he shared white sheets with. just another girl who would moan his name while he mumbled a made up one for you. just another girl for him to smile at, fuck once and play with but instead, he was the one getting played. by you. the shy, quiet girl.

the shy girl whose weeping friends had slept with satoru, and deliriously wanted him to suffer for breaking their lovelorn hearts. the shy girl who had taken a grievous vow to break, the egocentric frat king, satoru’s heart.

the campus’ shy girl was truly cruel. worse than satoru. because she was the only one to beat him at his own game.

the notorious menstrual cycle: