sukuna kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his cleat. the sound echoed. he was still in half his pads, shoulder plates making his already obscene shoulders look even wider, crimson jersey dark with sweat and grass stains. blood from a split lip had dried in a thin line down his chin. he hadn’t bothered wiping it. looked way hotter that way.

you were already waiting.

leaning back against his locker in your cropped cheer top and tiny skirt, thighs pressed together, pom-poms discarded somewhere near the benches. mascara slightly smudged from screaming his name for four quarters. lips glossy. eyes hungry. he didn’t speak at first. just stalked forward, towering, until your back hit the cold metal slats.

“thought you were gonna wait in the car like a good girl,” he rasped, voice still rough from shouting plays.

“couldn’t.” you tilted your head up, letting him see how dilated your pupils were. “not after that last touchdown. and definitely not after you looked straight at me when you kicked the ball.” a dangerous grin split his face. the kind that promised he was about to ruin you and enjoy every second of it.

“on your knees then, darling. you wanna celebrate? earn it then by taking it down your throat.”

you dropped instantly, knees hitting the tile, palms sliding up his thighs, fingers hooking under the waistband of his compression shorts and the cup still strapped in place. he was already thick and heavy behind the padding, the outline obscene. he reached down, rough fingers catching your jaw, tilting your face up.

“open.”

you did. tongue flat, lips parted, eyes locked on his. he shoved the shorts and cup down just enough. his cock sprang fres— thick, veined, flushed dark, the head already glistening. the musky scent of him hit you hard. clean sweat, victory, raw arousal. you whimpered before you even touched him.

he fisted the base and slapped the heavy length against your waiting tongue once, twice, watching the way it flexed and leaked against your lips.

“fuckin’ desperate cheer slut,” he muttered, almost fond. “go on. suck your champion off.” you wrapped both hands around what your mouth couldn’t reach and took him in deep on the first try. he groaned, low, guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest. one of his tattooed hand slammed against the locker above your head. the other tangled in your ponytail, not guiding yet, just holding.

you hollowed your cheeks and slid down further, tongue dragging along the thick underside vein, lips stretched tight. th stretch burned deliciously at the corners of your mouth. saliva already pooled, dripping down your chin. you didn’t care. you wanted messy. you wanted him to see what you’d do for him after he just carried the whole team on his back.

“s—shit.. there you go princess,” he hissed when you swallowed around him, throat fluttering. “k—knew that pretty hah fuuuck throat could take it

you moaned around his length, the vibration making his hips jerk forward involuntarily. he hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes watering but you didn’t pull off. instead you breathed through your nose and pushed deeper until your nose brushed the pubes at his base.

“fuuck.” his grip tightened in your hair, yanking just enough to make your scalp sting. “look at you. mascara runnin’, lips swollen, choking on championship dick like it’s your fucking job.”

“what a slut.”

you pulled back slow, obscene, wet, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock then plunged down again, faster this time. sloppy. noisy. the wet gluck gluck gluck of your throat filled the empty locker room.

he started fucking your face in shallow thrusts controlled at first, then harder. the metal locker rattled behind your head with each snap of his hips.

you let him use you. let him tilt your head exactly how he wanted, let him grind against your tongue, let him smear pre-cum and spit across your cheeks when he pulled out to slap his cock against your lips again.

“gonna ngh paint that pretty face—fuck fuck fuck if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” he growled.

you pulled off just long enough to rasp, voice wrecked, “insiwde. wan’ it down my throat. pleeease, sukuna—givme it— your cum.”

his eyes flashed.

“greedy little thing.”

he shoved back in deep, ruthless, holding your head still while he fucked your throat in short, brutal strokes. your nails dug into his thighs. tears streamed freely now, mixing with spit, dripping onto your chest, soaking the cropped top.

his breathing turned ragged.

“fuck—fuck—take it—”

he came down your throat, hips slamming forward one last time. hot, thick spurts flooded your mouth, your throat—too much to swallow at once. you tried anyway, gulping, choking, some of it leaking from the corners of your lips and dripping down your chin onto your tits.

he held you there until he stopped pulsing, until every last drop was down your throat or decorating your face.

only then did he pull out, slow, watching the way your swollen lips clung to him, the way your tongue automatically chased the last bead of cum on the tip.

he thumbed the mess on your chin, smearing it across your bottom lip like gloss.

“goood girl,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost reverent. “my pretty slutty trophy.”

I shan't say but this is very self indulgent for me

sorry to all the irls/moots who had to deal with me wanting attention and shit

it’s starting to feel relaxing like how it was in spring break

i can do simple tasks without being all over my phone like “DID THEY TEXT DID THEY TEXT!!!!”

i can make time for family now