st⭑rgirl

drunk!gojo who cannot keep a single thought to himself once he’s tipsy.

you know he’s drunk because he’s unusually quiet. you’re walking home together, his hand lazily intertwined with yours, his sunglasses hanging crooked from the collar of his shirt even though it’s midnight.

“i’m gonna propose to you at the top of that hill by the ocean.” he says it casually, out of nowhere.

you blink. “…what?”

he looks at you completely seriously. “the one in kamakura. the one with the little wooden railing and the view of the water.”

you stare. “satoru.”

“i already planned it.”

“you planned it?”

“yeah.” he nods like this is obvious information. “i’m gonna wear the black suit you like. not the blue one, you said the black one makes me look ‘annoyingly handsome.’”

your face heats up. “you remember that?”

“course i do.” he squeezes your hand. “and you’re gonna be wearing that little dress you wore on our third date. the one you thought i didn’t notice.”

“you noticed?”

“baby, i notice everything about you.”

you’re officially speechless, but he keeps going. “and i’m gonna get down on one knee when the sun’s setting, because you like sunsets.”

“satoru…”

“and i’m gonna say somethin’ that’s probably corny, and really romantic cause you like that stuff. and i’ll say please.”

you smile, patting his head. “how long have you had this planned?”

“long time, baby. also the ring’s in my sock drawer.”

you freeze. both of you stare at each other.

“…you have the ring already?”

gojo’s eyes widen. a beat passes. “i don’t think i was supposed to say that.”

Your husband Satoru slams a hand to muffle your cries as he lifts you up and bends you right over the damn drying machine, running right along with the washer loud enough it quiets the filthy sound of your messy cunt on his fingers. He shoves aside your pajama shorts you've been cleaning in all day, moaning when he gets to rub his tip on it, pearly white cum sticking to your clit.

"Satoru, right n-now?" You hiss out the words, he chuckles in your ear and bends over you, clicking the lock shut for good measure, the two of you hiding from your two kids as he actively plans for another like the freaky little shit he is.

"Saw you bending over putting those pans away? Fuck, thought how good your hips would look in my hands," he moans and grips one, sinking his cock inside easily with how soaked you are, but it's a tight fit. "Oh fuck..."

"Can't keep quiet if y-you..." he slams his hand again on your mouth, shoving his nine inches all the way inside, tip drooling on your cervix. You whine out against his palm, eyes rolling back in your skull, the sounds of Bluey filtering in. "mmph!"

"They're busy, it's fine..." He fucks into you faster, whimpering quietly and pounding your pussy - he's not gonna last long with how needy and sensitive he is. "I wanna put another inside you, hah-"

You think to yourself he's insane, but when he starts whispering that filth in your ear you're about to shatter, every glide of his cock in your quivering walls ruining you.

"Mnh, you want it huh? Me pumping you full, mm?-" he bites down on your neck to muffle another whine, pressing you harder on the dryer as your legs just dangle - he's so damn tall it's the perfect height to bend you over. He's wrapping his arm around, hand gripping a tit and squishing. "I wanna see these full of milk - wanna suck it from them again... mm it's so sweet..."

A circle of his thumb and another pump inside has you falling apart, gushing down his length, he pulls his hand off your mouth to kiss you.

"Drooling on my cock and my mouth?" He taunts, the man who had just been giving your kids rides on his back now had damn near black eyes and a feral grin, shoving in deep and holding you there, watching your eyes damn near go cross, your tongue all little and pink hanging out. "Fuck you love my cum, don't you? Want me to breed you, baby?"

"Please," you know damn well you shouldn't have another yet, but - "Breed me, please."

Your whisper ends him - pumping you full and gasping out into your mouth, coating your walls white with his hot ropes, spurts catching your cute cervix that's already swollen from his mean tip. "Oh fuck... mmm, want four more kids... fuck..."

"I'll tie my tubes after three," he glares and you giggle, breathless. "One more!"

"Fuck that I'll untie them," you're gasping when he eases out, shoving his fingers deep to plug that cum up, before he hears your kids arguing and curses. "Four more."

"One more," He grins as he slips his fingers in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, moaning at his taste. "Mmm, two then."

Satoru grins, fixing your clothes and then throwing your hair back into that ponytail. "Sure, sweetheart."

****

oml hubby!nanamin reminding you to breathe during smex!

sorry for such the long hiatus loves :((

“where do you feel me baby? tell me.” you nails dug into the back of the man currently fucking the shit out of you, to the point where you were incoherent. your thighs pressed against your sweat glazed torso, his hips harshly colliding with yours, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spots you have.

“mmm! n-hereeeee!” you weakly moved one of your hands to your womb. he smiles, kissing your lips and then making home on your sensitive neck. where his moans and groans went straight to your ear.

nanami makes LOVE. he never fucks.

he wants you to lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, always to the point where you’re overstimulated and almost can’t take it.

one thing nanami always noticed was how you don’t breathe whenever you guys have sex. it’s not like when you ask him to slightly choke you, or when he shifts his weight on top of you when you guys are in prone bone. it’s whenever you guys are intimate in general, he has to stop and remind you every time :(

“baby, baby. breathhhe.” he halts his hips, holding your face so your gaze is only focusing on him. not even a second passed and you’re gasping in and out, tears cradling down your brown cheeks. “there you go baby, there you go..” he slowly picks up his thrusts again, causing you to whine and whimper. trying your best not to fall into the habit of holding your breath again.

“m’gunna cuhmmm n-nana!” — “that’s my good girl. y-yeaa.” the knot in your stomach about to burst. his tip constantly hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. “it’s t’much!”

you whined. pushing against nanami’s abdomen, attempting to halt his thrusts for a moment. but he didn’t let up. “uh, uh baby. let out for me, let it out for your nana.” grabbing your wrists, and pinning it above your head.

the knot in your stomach snaps. squirting all over your husbands and thighs, coating them with your essence. it wasn’t too long until nanami reached his high. quickly pulling out and finishing on your stomach.

“did so good for me baby,” he lifted his hand from your wrist, using it to caress the side of your face.

he was the type to always sit at the front of class, get the homework done early and always asks for extra work. you shared a few classes with him, but frankly he was a little intimidating. but, if you want to pass, you might as well give it okay.

"um, excuse me, nanami?" you say tentatively. the bell just went and everyone is packing up to leave, giving you a minute to talk to him as he does the same. his lifts his chin slightly and raises an eyebrow.

"i, i was wondering if, if you'd, if you could-"

"spit it out, i don't have all day."

"i, i was hoping you could maybe tutor me? even just for a little bit?"

nanami's eyebrows raise for a moment before he chuckles, readjusting his glasses.

"tutor you? what happened to that cocky boyfriend of yours?"

"oh, um, gojo and i aren't together anymore."

"really? well, i'll think about it. what would you like me to help you with?"

"uh, everything." you say sheepishly. it feels a little selfish to ask for so much, for any time at all. but nanami simply chuckles again, taking out a sticky note and writing on it.

"here's my phone number. maybe we should meet this friday, we can study for that calculus quiz next week. that sound okay?" he voice softens slightly with that last sentence, his firm eyes looking down at you.

"yes please! that would be great."

"perfect. text me."

with that, he grabs his things and leaves the classroom. he was a little rigid, which was to be expected, but also seemed quite willing to help you. you smile giddily as you walk to your next class.

you’re both sprawled out on the living room couch, johnny on his back, and you lying stomach down on top of him with your cheek resting on his chest. your knee is hiked up a bit over his hip just enough to be comfortable. he’s holding a book up in the air with one hand.

he’s not the biggest reader, but simon recommended it, and he has trouble saying no to simon.

his other hand explores you absentmindedly. nothing inherently sexual yet. but then he feels the waistband of your thong that had ridden up the curve of your hips from the position you’re in. he calls it serendipitous.

it’s not in a place where it’s bothering you at this point, just a slight bit of pressure. he can’t help but tug the cotton up just a little bit, waiting to see if you’ll flinch.

he pretends he’s still focused on his book when really he lost his place about five minutes ago.

you shift, readjusting and cramming yourself further into johnny’s chest, if that’s even possible at this point.

you murmur a tired “stop it,” and johnny’s hand move up your back and away from your underwear. a few more minutes of johnny pretending to read pass, and you’ve reentered that floaty state between sleep and consciousness.

he feels your breathing even out, and his hand wanders back to the band of your underwear. this time he gives it a firm yank upwards.

you screech, shooting up from his chest, now straddling his hips. you can feel his cock chubbing up through his trousers and groan in disgust.

“ugh! johnny you are such a freak, you know that?” you slap his chest, and he grabs your wrists to stop your swatting before it reached his face.

then you’re storming off, yelling one last “disgusting!” his way.

"hey, dude, are you listening?"

fuck. he almost forgot that kirishima is on the other line, completely unaware of everything he was said beforehand. "no, say it again, and clearer this time," he huffs, voice low and clearly peeved he couldn't give you his full attention.

who wouldn't be when their girlfriend is looking up at them with lidded eyes, drooling on their thigh while fucking herseld on a thick, ribbed dildo while cooing their name over and over again, promising she could wait until he got the rest of the incident information from kiri.

and yet, he was still struggling to listen, trying to remember the words he's saying before he tugs you a little bit harder than he means too, causing you to let out a cute little noise and fall forward right into his crotch, face pressed against his hard on.

and then you just have to be a dirty fucking slut and take a deep breath before moaning his name, licking a stripe right over his cock through his jeans.

"what the fuck, baby."

cw: use of the word 'daddy', dacryphilia

he wants to feel bad, he really does, but the way those salty tears pile in your eyes and spill down your soft face just makes him wanna make you cry even harder. he's decided its a little bit better he makes you cry from pleasure as opposed to pain.

his favorite position is missionary where he can see you face as he pushes your thighs to your chest, making sure he can hit nice and deep. he's often too engrossed in how your pussy swallows his cock to notice when it starts.

"oh no, you cryin'?" he snickers softly when he sees the wetness of your face and the big pout you wear. you shake your head but its no use, he's already reaching out to brush your hair out of your face so he can get a better look.

"aww, my big baby. can't handle daddy's cock, can't ya?" he teases. he knows just how much you hate it when he babies you, especially because its hard for you to pretend you don't like it. you shake your head, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to stop the tears.

"i, i can, i can handle it."

"hm, are you sure? maybe i should give you a break." he pulls out until only his wet tip is left inside you, leaving you to whine even more. the empty feeling almost hurts and there's nothing you want more than gojo's cock to fill you up, to take you over the edge like it has so many times before.

"p-please, i'll be good, i p-promise." you whimper, eyes looking up at him desperately. he looks down at you intensely, a small smirk growing on his face as he shakes his head is mock consideration.

"alright, i guess you deserve it." he says, pushing your legs to your chest firmly before returning to his relentless pace, shoving his dick in and out of you as you whine and grasp onto him. you reach out your hands to grab onto his shoulders, no longer able to think about the tears falling down your face, you cry freely.

gojo leans down and kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear whilst the sounds of his cock in you fill the room.

"that's it, let me, ngh, let me make it all better, yeah? you can cry honey, you can cry, daddy's gonna make you feel sooooo good. you wanna cum? yeah? okay, that's it, just keep taking it, good girl. gorgeous fucking girl you are."

just imagine it. you're pressed up against the table with your boyfriend behind you, hips snapping against yours roughly as he holds one arm around your neck with just enough force for you to feel it, but never enough for it to actually bother you.

sundresses hit different when he can't keep his hands to himself in the grocery store (but you're not exactly complaining).

cw; mature content, smut, fingering. wc; 2.1k

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a/n; Hello hello! I'm sorryy for slow updates again. busy bee once more... hope everyone is doing great and thank you for reading!! (we are overdue for some freaky cough cough wink wink in honor of spring season here hahah ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝

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The dress was a mistake.

Not because it's not cute—it is. And not because it's inappropriate—it's perfectly modest, sweet even, and makes elderly shop owners smile at you.

It was a mistake because he’s losing his goddamn mind.

He's been half-hard since you left the apartment, since he caught sight of you smoothing the fabric down over your thighs, adjusting the ribbon at the waist. It makes you look soft and untouchable all at once. 

You're ahead of him now, standing on your toes to reach something on a high shelf. The dress rides up just slightly, exposing the backs of your thighs. He stops walking in the middle of the aisle and stares, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

"Babe, can you—"

You turn, catching him frozen, and raise an eyebrow.

"Can I what?" His voice comes out rougher than intended.

"Grab that?" You point to the shelf. "The rice crackers."

He moves forward and reaches over your head easily, but instead of stepping back, he stays there, crowding into your space, one hand braced on the shelf above you. You tilt your head back to look at him, and he watches your throat work as you swallow.

"Here." He drops the package into your hands, but doesn't move away.

"Thanks," you whisper, and something in your eyes tells him you know exactly what you're doing to him.

He lets you slip past, but his hand catches your hip briefly, fingers pressing into the soft fabric, into the softer skin beneath.

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The dairy aisle is his downfall.

You're reading the label on a container of Greek yogurt, completely absorbed, and he’s standing behind you trying to remember how to act normal, trying not to think about how the dress clings when you bend slightly or how he can see the outline of your underwear when the light hits just right. 

"Hey."

He blinks. You're looking at him over your shoulder, concern creasing your forehead.

"You okay? You look weird."

"I'm fine."

"What're you staring at?"

"I'm thinking."

"About yogurt?"

"Very deeply about yogurt."

You turn fully, and he's forced to confront how close he's gotten. 

"What's wrong?" you ask quietly, and the genuine care in your voice does something catastrophic to his chest.

"Nothing's wrong." He reaches out before he can stop himself, fingers catching a strand of hair that's fallen across your face. He tucks it behind your ear, lets his hand linger against your jaw. "You just look pretty today."

Your breath hitches, and then—god, help him—you smile. That sweet, utterly oblivious smile that makes his brain short-circuit.

"Oh! Is it the dress?" You do a little spin, completely uninhibited, and the fabric flares out around your thighs. He's going to have a fucking aneurysm. "Yuki and I got matching ones when we went shopping last weekend! She got the pink version, but I liked the cream better, and she said it would look good on me, so we both got one, and I wasn't sure about the length at first because it's a little shorter than what I usually wear, but the lady at the store said—"

You're rambling. You do this when you're excited or nervous, words tumbling out in that animated way that's so fucking cute he can barely stand it. Your hands are gesturing as you talk, eyes bright, completely unaware that he's having very detailed, very filthy thoughts about bunching that dress up around your waist and—

"—and the fabric is so light, which is perfect for this weather, right? I was worried it might be too see-through, but it has a lining, so—babe? Are you listening?"

No. He's thinking about how easy it would be to slide his hands up under that "light fabric." How you'd sound if he pressed you against the shelves and kissed you until you forgot about everything except his name. How fucking perfect you'd look with those innocent eyes all wide and dazed while he—

"Bubs?"

"Yeah." His voice comes out strained. "Listening."

You tilt your head, studying him with that open, trusting expression that's going to be the death of him. "You sure? You look kind of..."

"Kind of what?"

"I don't know. Intense?" you giggle. "It's just a dress. You're acting weird."

Just a dress. Just a dress. Just a dress, his fucking ass. 

You're standing there looking like every fantasy he's ever had. 

"It's a nice dress," he manages, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"Awh, baby!" You beam at him, and then—because you're completely innocent and have no idea what you're doing to him—you lean into his touch. "I'm glad you like it. I almost wore a different one, but—"

Fuck.

He can't take it anymore.

"Come here." He moves, fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to follow him.

"What are you—babe, where are we going?"

He finds what he's looking for, a narrow space between the refrigerated section and the endcap display, hidden from the main aisle. 

It's ridiculous. You’re both in a grocery store, but he can't think about that right now, can't think about anything except getting his hands on you properly and ruining you in the best way possible.

Your back hits the wall gently, and he presses close, one hand planted beside your head.

You're breathless, eyes wide with confusion and something else, something that makes his blood run hot. "We're in public."

"I know." He dips his head, nose brushing your temple. "I know, pretty girl."

The pet name makes you shiver. 

"You’re so crazy," you whisper, but your hands are curling into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing away.

"No." His lips find your forehead, pressing a kiss there that's too tender for what he's thinking. "You're driving me crazy." His other hand finds your waist, fingers spreading over the fabric, over your ribs. "In that fucking dress."

"Baby, seriously, we're at a grocery store—" Your voice is getting breathier, even as you try to sound rational. "There are people—what if someone sees—and we still need to get the eggs, remember? You literally finished the last ones this morning, and I wanted to make that frittata tomorrow, the one with the—oh—"

He's not listening. He's too busy kissing down the column of your throat, finding that spot just below your ear that makes you melt. Your skin is so soft, tastes faintly of that lotion you use, and he wants to mark you up, wants everyone to know—

"—and we're in the dairy section, this is insane, what if we bump into—"

"Shut up, baby," he mutters against your skin, and you let out a cute moan that goes straight to his cock.

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He's gone.

He’s so gone. 

His hand slides down, over your hip, gathering the fabric of your dress slowly. You're trembling against him, fingers tight in his hair, and he wants to memorize this: the way you look flushed and wanting, the little sounds you're making, the trust in your eyes even as they flicker with nervousness.

"Is this okay?" he asks, palm flat against your thigh now, thumb stroking small circles. "Tell me if it's not."

"It's—" You swallow hard. "Yes. But we're in a—"

"I know." He kisses you again, softer this time. "I've got you. Just be quiet for me."

Your eyes roll slightly at that. His hand moves higher, and your head falls back against the wall, lips parting on a silent oh.

He watches your face as he touches you over your underwear, learning what makes your breath catch, what makes your hips cant forward seeking more. You're so responsive, so perfect, and he has to kiss you again to muffle the sounds you're making.

"Ah, please—"

"Please what, baby?" His fingers slip beneath the fabric, and you keen softly. "Use your words."

"I can't—we can't—" But you're moving against his hand, desperate and needy, and he loves you like this, loves seeing you unravel.

"Yes, we can." His voice is low, commanding in that way that makes you shiver. "You're going to be quiet, and I'm going to make you feel good. Okay?"

You nod frantically, and he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time. You're so wet, so ready, and it takes everything in him not to groan out loud at how you feel.

"Fuck," he breathes against your ear. "You're soaking, baby."

You whimper at his words, hips rolling forward to take his fingers deeper, and the movement is so needy, so fucking perfect that his cock throbs painfully against his shorts. He sets a steady rhythm, curling his fingers just right; you respond immediately, grinding down on his hand, unable to help yourself.

"That's it," he murmurs, his free hand gripping your hip to steady you. "Take what you need."

And you do. Your hips are moving in small, desperate circles, riding his fingers while trying to stay quiet, and the wet sounds are obscene in the quiet corner. He can hear it—the slick slide of his fingers inside you, the way you're dripping down his palm—and it's driving him fucking insane.

Your voice breaks on his name, barely a whisper. "Oh fuck, I—"

"Shh, pretty. I know." His thumb finds your clit, circling with the same maddening patience he uses for everything, and you bite down on your lip so hard he's worried you'll draw blood. "You're being so good for me. So fucking perfect."

You're babbling now, soft little nonsense sounds and broken fragments of his name, your inhibitions melting away as pleasure builds. "Please—I need—please—more—"

He gives you more, adds pressure, keeps the rhythm steady while you grind shamelessly on his hand. His mouth finds your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point before biting down gently, and you keen, the sound muffled only by your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

"That's my girl," he growls against your skin, sucking a mark into the soft flesh just above your collarbone. He'll have to be careful—can't mark you anywhere visible—but fuck, he wants to, wants to cover you in proof that you're his. "Look at you, grinding on my fingers in the middle of a grocery store. So desperate for it."

The filthy words make you clench around him, and he grins against your throat, teeth tugging at your skin again. You're so close. He can feel it in the way you're tightening around his fingers, in the desperate rolls of your hips, in how wet you are—god, everything is so fucking wet, his fingers sliding easily, your arousal coating his palm.

"You're making such a mess, baby," he whispers, and the words are barely out before you're whimpering again, hips stuttering. "Can you hear how wet you are? How good you sound taking my fingers?"

"Ah—mm—I'm—" You can't even finish the sentence, too far gone, and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

"I know. I've got you." He increases the pressure slightly, keeps the pace steady, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit with each thrust of his fingers. His teeth find your earlobe, tugging gently. "Come for me, baby. Lemme feel it."

It's the command in his voice combined with one more curl of his fingers that does it. You break, shaking apart in his arms, face buried against his neck to muffle the sounds as you pulse around his fingers. He works you through it, gentle now, kissing your hair and murmuring praise while you ride out the aftershocks, still grinding weakly against his hand.

"So perfect," he says, over and over. "So fucking perfect for me."

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For a moment, neither of you moves. You're still trembling slightly, forehead pressed against his shoulder, breathing hard. That is until reality crashes back: the fluorescent lights, the hum of refrigeration units, the distant sound of a shopping cart squeaking past the aisle. 

"Eggs," he says suddenly.

You blink at him. "What?"

"You wanted eggs. For your frittata." He steps back, adjusting himself discreetly, still painfully hard.

"Oh. Right. Eggs." You sound dazed, and he has to resist the urge to kiss you again. "Yes. Eggs. That's—that's why we came here."

"Among other things," he mutters, and you turn bright red.

The egg section is mercifully close. You grab a carton with shaky hands, barely looking at it, and practically throw it into the basket. "Got them. Okay. Good. Let's go."

"What about the vegetables?" he asks innocently, and you shoot him a look that could melt steel.

"We have lettuce. That's vegetable enough. We're leaving."

"I thought you also wanted—"

"Leaving."

˗ˏˋ fem! reader besties!

𖤐 ━ m.list

You sit higher than Rin like this. Perched in his lap, the tops of your feet digging into the cushion with each push upward, muscles relaxing as you sink down on his cock.

The pace is slow and sensual. Rin’s head tipped back on the couch. His gaze is heavy, fully molten as he tracks the gentle bounce of your tits. The way your lips part to take a breath that’s sharp on the inhale and shaky on the exhale when Rin decides not to be lazy and curls his hips.

Rin gives you a breathless little laugh, your startled, pleasured expression accompanying another sudden jerk of his hips amusing to him. You shoot him a withering look and dig your nails into the skin on his shoulders.

“Aw,” He coos. “Don’t look at me like that, pretty girl. I’m not being lazy now, am I?” His palms smooth from your hips to your bare ass and he taunts, “What? M’giving you exactly what you wanted,” as he smacks one cheek and then squeezes both. Uses that rough grip to help lift you up and guide you down.

“Rin — ah!” You cry, pitching forward. “Fuck!” The drag of his cock is wicked, but you keep enough sense about you to pinch his bicep in retaliation. His smug grin widens. A high pitched, sharp moan tears from your throat. “Y-you’re such a —,”

“Dick?” He taunts. Rin suddenly grips your hips and jolts you down over and over, thrust after thrust. You gasp, entire body flushing red hot with pleasure. “No, I’m giving you dick,” he corrects, soft pants making his words airy and light.

Your fingers curl in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and, with a tight hand on Rin’s jaw, you demand, “Stay still.”

Frenzied hips freeze.

Rin melts, lashes fluttering. You manipulate his head to nod yes. “Mhmm,” he agrees with a ditzy sounding hum through pursed lips. You let go of his jaw and kiss him.

Despite his agreement, Rin’s still a little shit. It’s in his nature to fidget as your hips grind in small circles, his thumb searching for and finding your swollen clit, swirling steady circles.

Rin’s lips part, as do yours, and he teases between the space until his hot tongue slides over yours. You rise up halfway and sit down, feeling the heavy stretch Rin’s thick cock. You moan, biting down hard on his lower lip, and Rin smiles, lip stretching between your teeth.

Your foreheads knock together. “Close,” you whine. His tip is pressed firm to your g-spot, applying pressure with each back and forth grind of your hips.

Rin’s thumb speeds up.

“Cum for me,” he whispers against your lips, begging.

The hot rush lets loose before he stops talking. You’re pressed so close Rin’s hand is trapped between your stomachs, forced to still. His chest is sweaty and sticking to yours, the squeeze of your pussy making him cum with a soft hitch of breath.

With your face hidden in his neck, body slumped onto his, Rin pats your ass gently and says, “Good game, baby.”

desc;; MDNI, post-time skip, bestfriends 2 lovers, multiple orgasms, finger fucking, soft dom suna, afab!reader, not prof read, rin had a crush on you ever since… so he decides to shoot his shot! , p in v , vaginal sex, squirting, bsf!sunarin → bf!sunarin

AN;; trying something new :) expect mistakes or spelling errors wc: 884

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭

• bestfriend!suna has heard you complain about it for months. every time the topic of sex comes up during your late-night calls or when you’re chilling at his place after his ejp raijin practices, you sigh and say the same thing everytime. “no one’s ever been able to make me squirt. they all tap out or get tired before it even gets close.”

he’s usually half-laying on the couch scrolling through his phone with that signature lazy smirk, but this time he actually looks up, eyes narrowing with interest.

“bet i could,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.

you laugh in his face. “yeah right, rin. you’re my best friend, not some sex god.”

• bestfriend!suna just raises an eyebrow, setting his phone down. “i’m serious. give me one night. if i can’t make you squirt, i’ll get ya anything you want. but if i do…” his smirk turns sharper, “you admit i’m better than every guy you’ve ever let touch you.”

you thought he was joking.

he wasn’t.

"i don't know.." you'e kneeling on the hardwood of suna's living room, clad in only a pair of thigh-high stockings and a black thong. you're completely topless, hence your arms instinctively fold over chest and wrap around yourself, protecting what little modesty you have left while also shielding your nipples from the cold draft in the room. "i'm not so sure this is the most effective way to make quick money. can't we just doordash like normal people?"

"bit late to back out now; i've already taken most of the pics." he mutters, knelt a few feet away from you. he's already captured a collection of photos while standing, with the camera angled down and you looking up dotingly. now he's on his knees as well, adjusting the lens as he peers at you through the viewfinder, one eye closed, "doordashing is too stressful, anyway. move your arms, need to get your tits in this shot." he says bluntly.

your cheeks heat up at his request; there's something obscene about your best friend asking you that so casually. "well, it's not up to you, dummy, since it's not photos of your ass that are going on the internet for old pervs to jerk over." you huff, actions contrasting your sharp words as you pliantly drop your arms to expose your tits to the camera, nipples pointed under the chilly air. you almost wince as the flash of his camera goes off, along with the shutter noise.

"oh, shit, your ass, i forgot about that. we should get some pics of that before i put the camera away." his eyes flickers with realisation, as he looks down and idly adjusts the settings. it's like he isn't even fully listening to what you have to say, but you've been friends with suna for long enough to know that he's purposefully trying to annoy you. hence, you narrow your eyes at him but refrain from immediately cursing him out. he probes further, "weren't you the one who was just talking about how badly she wants a new computer? eh?"

you duck your head slightly, hair falling in front of your face and you grimace, "yeah.." you whimper as there's another bright flash.

clicking through the photos he just took, a smirk tugs at his lips while he can feel erection aching in his sweats. he gulps and instructs. "cool. so do i. so get all on all fours." it comes out less commanding than he had hoped, yet you obey none the less. albeit, while grumbling and groaning about it.

"ugh.. can't believe you're pimping me out for a new keyboard." you remain on your knees but lean forward and set both of your forearms on the ground, shifting your weight onto them and leaving your ass in the air.

"yup. and you've got your tits out to buy a new pc, so who's worse?" it comes out as less of a question and more of an insult. suna stands up and looks down at you, ass up for him with a measly thong covering you up — most of your cheeks were exposed and the thin fabric molded to the shape of your damp folds, and the strip was so narrow that your lips threatened to escape with one wrong move. he licked his lips and tried to focus, snapping another picture.

"and you know," he remarks, "a custom pink build costs extra. so if you want one, you're gonna have to drop your panties too."

it’s been four months since you broke up with suna rintaro. four months since you’ve cut ties, went no contact, and even avoided any gatherings with mutual friends. all that effort for four months just to end up in his bedroom, pinned under him, screaming his name again.

“aah—fuck, rin! nnngh—slow down—“ you gasped, body jolting forward with every snap of his hips. your back arched off the sheets, nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you relentlessly, every drag of his cock against your velvet walls sending sensations throughout your body. “you’re clenching so hard for someone who hates me.” he murmured against your neck, trailing his kisses all the way to your jawline. “thought you were avoiding me, what happened? missed me that bad?”

“n—no—unngh fuck—!” tears slipped from the corner of your eyes, vision blurring with every sharp thrust. you refused to admit it, but you hadn’t been stretched out this good for a while and god, you forgot how addictive it was having him inside you. “no? really?” he mocked, pulling back just enough to leave his tip in before slamming back into you in one harsh thrust. “listen to yourself, baby. your pussy’s dripping all over my cock, and you’re saying you don’t miss me?”

his pace was brutal and merciless — tip punishing your cervix with every collision of his hips against your ass, punching the air out of you. every brush of his blunt head against your sweet spot had you squirming under him, your moans turning into incoherent sobs. he’s fucking you hard, making you cry out his name as he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear before murmuring, “crying my name like that.. this is what you call hate? sure doesn’t fucking sound like it.”

every word that left his lips left a sting, stirring up forgotten feelings and something like need, something like desperation — an ache that you refused to name. “haah—rin—please.. want you—“ you choked out, cheeks flushed and expression dazed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “hm? what is it? say it louder f’me, baby.”

“mmnghh—need you, rin! stop teasin—“ he shut you up with a kiss, tongues entwining as if speaking an unspoken language, swallowing every moan as he bullied your aching cunt. with a loud mewl of his name, your walls spasmed around his length, squeezing him so tight he could barely move. “fuuuck, baby. squeezin’ me like that.” he grunted, forcing your legs apart with his hips as he watched you soak the sheets, still rutting into you ruthlessly. “look at you, so fucking messy.”

“mmmnghh—aah—too much—can’t take anymore!” your body was convulsing under him now, breathless gasps replacing your cries. “just a little more, baby. you can take it, can’t you?” he said, breaths turning shallow as his hips jerked erratically against you. every whine of his name had his cock throbbing and twitching, feeling the familiar strain his lower abdomen before he let go, filling you to the brim.

“shiiit—this pussy’s mine, okay?” he growled, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. he pulled out slowly, watching him cum leak out of you before tilting your chin up so your gaze met his. “no one else can fuck you like this, don’t forget it.”

You wake up to the muffled sounds of vomiting. Sukuna's side of the bed is empty, and when you run your hand across the sheet, you find it damp with sweat. You walk towards the sound, stumbling over Sukuna's pajama bottoms that are tossed on the floor by the bathroom door.

Your eyes adjust to the dark bathroom, to find Sukuna retching over the toilet bowl. You stand in the doorway, moving to rub his back when his heaving stops. His skin is hot and clammy.

It starts to click in your sleep muddled brain- Sukuna is sick.

You don't want to make a big deal about it. You know that he can be even more irrational than usual when he isn't feeling well. But you don't want him to confuse your calm demeanor with the idea that you don't care. You know him well enough to know that he thinks he doesn't want to be taken care of.

"Why are your pants on the floor?" You ask.

"I took em off. Was getting too hot." Sukuna answers. His voice is hoarse - probably from throwing up.

Before you can respond, Sukuna flushes the toilet and sits on his haunches. You can barely see him, the night light plugged in the hallway giving just enough of a glow to see the outline of his features. He looks depleated.

"Why are you up." He says to you, annoyed at himself for waking you up from your sleep.

"You're sick." You say, as if it's not obvious.

"I'm not." Sukuna replies, still sitting on the tiled floor.

"Well you obviously don't feel well." You can tell that he's in a terrible mood, not feeling too great. You don't want to rattle him any further but his ability to get on your nerves in any situation is unmatched.

Sukuna huffs, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Just go back to sleep."

"Go back to sleep? Your throwing your guts up and you want me to go back to sleep." You scoff at him, your own attitude starting to seep through. "Don't tell me what to do. Do you need anything?"

He doesn't make a move to stand up, even when you hold your hand out for him to grasp. "Yeah, for you to leave me alone." Sukuna says, his head tilted lazily towards you.

You're at your wits end. It is three o' clock in the morning on a week day, and you are dealing with an irritable, cranky man. "Sukuna. Shut the fuck up and let me help you." You respond.

He looks at you then, and you see his internal battle in his tear rimmed eyes. You know Sukuna wants to deal with it himself; not because he doesn't want you to take care of him- but because he thinks he doesn't deserve it. He won't allow himself the comfort, the convenience of having somebody to lean on.

"You should get in a bath, I'll go change the sheets. They're kinda soaked." You continue.

"My fault. I'll just go sleep on the couch." Sukuna says, rising off the floor to his full height, looking down at you. He refuses to make eye contact with you, like you reprimanded him for stealing a cookie out the jar.

"Sukuna. Enough." You say, trying to stop yourself from getting annoyed.

He looks away. Sukuna knows he's being difficult. You both know why he's giving you such a hard time. He's usually taking care of everything on his own. Scraping himself up off the floor and rebuilding himself when he's down and out. Even though you two have been dating for some time now, living together for months, Sukuna still doesn't know how to handle your generosity, your kindness and your compassion. He is still somehow coming to terms with the fact that you care about him.

It makes him uncomfortable. Because he has to admit to both you and himself that deep down, he craves it.

With a sigh, you turn from him, starting the bath. The water is lukewarm- not too cold or hot. As it fills the tub, you two make no more conversation. He's too exhausted for another snappy remark- and he doesn't want you to decide that you can't put up with him; even though you both know you would never do that. Not to him.

You slide his boxers down his legs and help him into the tub. Sukuna relaxes instantly, exhaling loudly.

It's the middle of the night, the house is so calm. so quiet. You sit with him for a while, his eyes closed as he soaks in the tub. He looks so peaceful, almost as if he's fallen asleep. You go to get up, Sukuna peeks one eye open. He doesn't want you to leave.

Before you head back to the bedroom, you brush his hair off his forehead. His skin is still a little clammy. You give him a quick peck on his temple.

You return after changing the bed, laying out an extra blanket for Sukuna. You have a new pair of boxers and a towel for him too.

You sit it all down on the counter, seeing Sukuna hunched over in the water. You sit again on the edge of the tub, taking his washcloth and lathering his back for him. The only sound in the bathroom is the water gently shloshing around the tub. The motions of you washing his back soothe him.

You help him out the tub, drying him off and dressing him. He rolls his eyes a bit at this, but you don't pay that any mind. It is Sukuna after all. You pull the stopper to drain the tub while he brushes his teeth. You wait in the bathroom with him, following behind him when he leaves.

He walks towards the bedroom door and you feel your blood pressure rise.

"Hey. Under the covers. Now." You say sternly. Sukuna turns to face you, raising his hands in defeat. He walks back to the bed and gets in.

"You know I like it when you boss me around." He says in as sultry a voice as he can muster. You can't help but laugh at that. He relaxes into the covers. You can tell he wants to move closer to you but he doesn't want to be troublesome. You slide closer to him, grabbing him to lean on your chest.

The bedroom is quiet, and it's dark. The sheets are cool, but you still feel Sukuna wide awake against you. You rub his back, and he speaks into the comfort of the atmosphere.

"Sorry you had to wake up and take care of my sick ass." He says with a huff.

It's easier to have a conversation so vulnerable when you can't see him. Sukuna doesn't want you to see his emotions bubble to the surface. You waking up to take care of him means more than you know.

"Oh, stop sulking. It's not that serious. We help each other." You start. "Remember that time I came home drunk off my ass?"

Sukuna shrugs. So you continue. "While you were in the middle of yelling at me for not calling you to pick me up, I ran to the bathroom. You were right behind me, holding my hair back while I threw up."

He laughs, curling his arms around you a little tighter. "Yeah. There was so much vomit. It was fucking disgusting."

"Exactly." You continue. "And you cleaned up what didn't reach the toilet. You didn't even complain about it."

He breathes out a laugh, so you finish your story. "And you woke up the next day, still ready to take care of me.. Even though I insisited I was fine."

"Yeah cause you're stubborn as fuck." Sukuna says to you. You hear the humor in his voice.

"Look in the mirror much?" You ask him. He doesn't respond right away. Instead he grabs your free hand, laying a kiss on it.

"I hate asking for help." He says, so quiet you almost miss it.

"Oh trust me, I know. I've been around long enough to know." At your response he pinches you lightly, and you swat his hand away laughing.

"But seriously. I know. And the thing is.. you don't need to ask. I'll do it regardless. Not because I have to, because I want to." You tell him. The darkness of the bedroom gives you confidence to speak honestly.

"Thank you." Sukuna responds. It's all he can muster up. "You don't have to thank me baby." You say softly, still rubbing his back. His breathing starts to even out, and he falls back to sleep.

not my best work i feel but.. i didn't see much else happening in this fic & i figured i'd clean my drafts out lol. pls like/reblog/comment! & thanks for reading xoxo

you hear a knock on the door. only toji knocks like that. twice, strong and loud.

you clicked your tongue. on your bed, little five-year-old megumi was curled on your left side fast asleep and tsumiki, who sensed your irritation, was on your right.

she noticed how you didn't unpause the movie which meant you were gonna ignore whoever was at the door so she did the same.

until the doorbell rang.

you pinched the bridge of your nose. "never knows when to quit, does he".

at your words tsumiki immediately knew who it was, taking it upon herself to answer the door.

"i'll get it!", she said as she hopped off the bed.

"tell him to fu—go away".

tsumiki giggled and nodded her head, skipping over to the door.

just as toji was mid knock, she opened the door slowly.

"hey princess, is your mom around?".

"yeah but she said go away", another giggle slipped past her lips upon remembering how you were so quick to correct your wording earlier.

toji's scratched his head and sighed. "that woman never lets up".

toji crouched down to tsukimi's height, elbow on his knee and fisted hand against his cheek. "will you tell her i just wanna talk? five minutes".

she hummed in agreement and ran back to your room where you were hoping he'd just do as you asked and go away.

but this was toji fushiguro. the man who was still hopelessly in love with you. he'd be damned if he gave up that easily.

"he wants to talk for five minutes", she held up five fingers to emphasise her words.

a pinched expression was engraved onto your face. you slapped your hands over your face, head facing the ceiling.

his 'five minute' talks were never just talks. neither were they five minutes. ever. last time it resulted in you two having a heated make out session and the time before that he ended up in your bed.

part of you was curious though, what would it be this time? what 'five minute talk' would you two get caught up in this time around?

"what do you want", you closed the door after you and leaned against it, crossing your arms over your chest.

toji stood opposite you, hands deep in his pockets, broad shoulders almost inviting you to throw your arms over, and that scarred grin of his— subtle but there.

"what do you want toji?", you repeated, patience wearing thin.

"missed ya", he stepped forward until the tips of your shoes were touching.

"that all?".

"do i need another reason?".

"are you twelve?".

"that reminds me. tsumiki's birthday next week, she say anything about it?", he asked unfazed.

you shook your head with an eye roll. you knew that wasn't his reason for coming. "said she wants a big party with all her friends. maybe a bouncy castle if the weather's good".

"and a unicorn cake?".

"naturally", the corners of your lips twitched which toji noticed. you couldn't help it, she's asked for a unicorn cake last year for her sixth birthday and the two years before that. it was amusing.

a moment of silence had passed before you shifted your weight onto your other leg. "you could've called".

"you don't pick up".

"i would've..eventually".

"that right?".

the hallway felt smaller, or maybe it was that he was standing way too close. you hadn't even noticed the distance between you two had grown smaller and you were sure that if you shifted forward even a bit, your chest would brush his.

"i miss you, doll".

you pushed his chest, but it wasn't as hard as you had intended. he didn't even move "right well if that's all then i'm going back inside".

toji grinned to himself, that unwavering indifference of yours was what made him fall in love with you in the first place.

as you opened the door, you were met with tsukimi who had her hands behind her back, smile plastered onto her face.

"can he come in? please mom? we can all watch the movie together!".

you looked down at your girl's pleading eyes. something you could never destroy, could never say no to.

"...i suppose".

"yay!!", she swung her arms up in the air, scurrying back to your room most likely deciding to wake megumi up and tell him the good news.

your head turned back to your ex-husband, facial expression doing a complete 360.

"you're lucky i love these kids to death".

"just like i love you to death".

"oh spare me".