— the arrangement ∬ ֗ ₊

chapter three

frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader

chapter two series masterlist

* click ! *

Gojo’s new camera goes off and for a moment the view in front of him is overcome from the brightness of the flash. His hands are barely gripping the polaroid when it’s done printing, fingers pinching the edges so as to not ruin it with his sweat. 

He wasn’t a professional by any means but Gojo had promised Suguru they could document their college lives together and he loved to capture moments that stood out to him. It just so happens that you were always catching his eye. 

When his vision clears up and all that’s left are little dots of light, he’s looking down at the photo and half smiling, his chest tightening at the sight. 

You were so beautiful, flashing that smile that always left his heart beating a little faster. Your hair was freshly curled, makeup enhancing your natural beauty, the oversized sweater you wore was slipping off your shoulder and covering half of your skirt. He could still hear you now, laughing at something Yuki had said and his mind was going a mile per second. 

He knew you hated him and yet, he could still feel his heart growing double the size from the pure adoration he felt for you. 

So entrancing. So perfect.

All Gojo wanted was for you to look at him, to acknowledge his existence with more than disgust or indifference. He’d even settle for the glare you were giving him now, a year after he took that photo. Your lips set in a pout so pretty that he had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing your arm, pulling you into his lap and begging you to forgive him.

Gojo sat on the couch with his head in his hands, his leg bouncing and heart thumping so hard that it was painful. He could barely breathe, nerves getting the best of him for the first time in his life. He was always so calm, so lazily self-assured, and now here he was falling apart on his couch while you held proof that he had been paying attention to you longer than he cared to admit. 

“I take pictures of things that capture my eye. You just happen to do that a lot.” He gives a shaky laugh, running his hands through his hair. 

Gojo had plenty of pictures of all of his friends, all completely innocent. Did he, on the rare occasions you allowed yourself to be around him, take some of you? Yes and he always been upfront about his feelings for you so he couldn’t understand why you were so fucking mad at him right now.

“That’s not a good enough explanation, Satoru.” 

And fuck, Gojo wishes you would stick with his last name if you were going to say his first with such poison in your voice. You only ever called him Satoru when he was fucking you and it made his chest ache that his first time hearing it in a casual setting was like this. 

He looks up. His blue eyes burning and red rimmed, and the sight makes your stomach clench in a way that makes you angry at yourself. You should have thrown the pictures at him, should have been more furious. You are furious but underneath it was something much worse, a sick feeling that had been growing since you started this arrangement nearly three months ago. Something that grew every time he took you roughly in the library or softly on his bed, hands tracing your entire body as if he was worshipping you while he was balls deep inside of you. 

Every time he made you forget every reason you had for keeping him at arm's length.

He saw you and that was the problem. Not as the stuck up, frat hater who had everything together, that everyone knew you to be. But the girl whose nose crinkled when she laughed too hard and the girl that played with her fingers as a nervous tick when a conversation was dragging. He saw all of this through a fucking lens and it scared you. 

He had been collecting evidence of your humanity for two years, and you had never known.

“I need a break.” You finally spit out. 

⟢ ━━━ big feelings

modern au ⊹ bsf's older brother!sukuna 𝔁 f!reader ⊹ nsfw drabble!

warnings. smut, mdni. lowk strangers to lovers. age gap (30s him, 20s you). cunnilingus, fingering, piv, cpie. he's kind of pathetic and u own him like a dawg. protip listen to the song while reading

masterlist | wc: 3.2k

thinking about yuuji's older brother sukuna who doesn't pay attention to his annoying little friends. why would he care about a couple of twenty-something-year old kids when he has bills to pay?

but when he sees how polite you are to the local kobeni owner, a grumpy old man that usually yells him to high hell and back for dressing like a mobster and scaring off business? the man was speaking in gentle cadences sukuna wasn't aware he was capable of. and you pulled a smile out of the damn geezer to boot.

sure you're kind, but not a pushover. sukuna realized this key distinction when you refused to laugh at a joke he mouthed off, ripping on yuuji for being such a slob he probably would be forty before he landed a serious girlfriend. "quit being an asshole. nobody likes that. i don't see you sporting any long-time girlfriends yourself. tsk," you snapped back coldly.

but ever the enigma, you surprised him constantly. sukuna wishes he could figure you out, truly. despite your usual snippy attitude towards him, you knew the importance of gratitude and good manners.

so when sukuna's 32nd birthday comes around, he didn't expect to receive many gifts outside of a couple messages from his very few school friends, maybe something stupidly goofy from yuuji. a decent watch from their grandfather. an unwanted greasy coupon to the local kfc from that broke bum, fushiguro.

toji fushiguro x fem! reader

tws + tags ;; nsfw, mdni. fingering, vaginal inspection, controlled masturbation, male masturbation, mentions of anal.

every friday evening, like clockwork, there's an inspection.

the curtains are wide open, so toji is forcing your legs open on the bed, you are able to gaze out the window at the star-lit sky. minimal light filters in from the moon and skyline outside, the room is largely illuminated by the warm glow of a salt lamp and a few candles dotted around.

he's sat on the bed in front of you, using one hand to secure your leg while the other you hold open on your own. you swear you can almost hear him growl under his breath as he stares down at your pantie-covered pussy, subtly biting the inside of his mouth. your body shudders as his thumb grazes your folds through the damp fabric.

in an instant, he rips off your panties, exposing your plump lips — already shining with slick — to the harsh chill of the room. an involuntary hiss escapes you at the sudden sensation, but toji seems to be more enthralled by your newly bare pussy. his eyes are locked to it and his thumb ghosts over your folds again.

there's a moment of silence were you can hear a hungry groan brimming his throat as he savours the sight of your cunt nude before him. a long time passes of him just staring at you and appreciating the sight while you sit in silence. until, he finally commands, "lay back. lemme take a closer look."

a/n: idk if the audience too niche but desi girls who love toji and jjk please rise with me

it was late at night and you sat on the couch beside your boyfriend, prepping for a relative’s wedding that was the next day. currently, you were applying henna onto your non-dominant hand.

the familiar earthy scent wafted through the air as your gaze was fixed on your hand. toji’s head slumped against your shoulder sleepily. he was forcing himself to stay awake despite being exhausted from a long day of work.

you glanced between your palm and the reference photo on your phone, working slowly.

toji faked a loud dramatic snore, nuzzling his face into your neck. “baby, you’ve been at this for hours. why’s it taking so long?” he mumbled with a pout.

you laughed softly, tightening your hold on the henna cone as you added to the design. “it takes time and skill, cutie. you should head to bed without me”

he shook his head quickly as if the suggestion was offensive. “definitely not. come on, let me help. I bet I can get it done in like ten minutes.”

you raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips at the idea. “it’s not that easy babe, trust me.”

he narrowed his eyes at you and held a hand out for the cone, accepting the challenge. “can’t be that hard, it’s just drawing on flowers and stuff.”

you held back a snort. he was about to find out how easy it really was.

thirty minutes had passed. toji was nowhere near done and your henna was definitely.. unconventional.

your hand rested in his as he stared down at it, a deep furrow permanently etched into his brows. his flowers had uneven petals and had a closer resemblance to blobs.

he accidentally made another crooked petal and tried to wipe it with his finger but it was too late. a light stain had already appeared.

“‘ji, I’m gonna have to tell people a five year old did it.” you teased, making him grunt.

he was nearly strangling the cone which was probably why so much henna was coming out and making his work less than intricate. “I don’t get this damn thing. my flowers look all weird and misshapen.”

you laughed softly and leaned over to kiss his cheek adoringly. “you’re cute.”

he huffed with frustration and continued trying to save the design with more thick swirls and silly looking petals.

“okay, that’s enough my baby.” you said and plucked the cone from his fingers.

he frowned and buried his face back into your neck. “you were right. it’s not that easy.”

you kissed his head gently, a soft smile stuck to your face as you glanced from his poor attempt to his own hands that had somehow gotten stained in random spots.

“mhm, I’m always right. go to bed.” you said happily, grabbing your phone to snap a photo of his very unique work.

eventually he fell asleep in that position, head resting on your shoulder while you went back to finishing your henna.

INDIE'S CRACKTACULAR KINKTOBERFEST!

mdni. multiple jjk men. fem reader. all fics will feature heavy smut + crack treated seriously. tags will be found in individual posts. gojo art by @keki1205 + div by @pixopix

SHARKNADO! starring ex-husband surfer!gojo + shark hybrid!sukuna

WILL FEATURE MONSTERFUCKING + OVIPOSITION

it's raining...sharks? but, uh, instead of man-eating ones, it seems this one is hungry for pussy! will your ex-husband save you? or do you even want to be saved?

VELOCIPASTOR! starring veloicpastor!geto

WILL FEATURE BONDAGE + GLORY HOLE

as a stripper, you've had your fair share of strange clients. but, uh, a priest turned cult leader with the ability to transform into a velociraptor? yeah, that's a new one.

COCAINE BEAR! starring bear hybrid!toji

WILL FEATURE KNOTTING + PRIMAL PLAY

what's a wildlife activist to do when the bear hybrid she's been studying accidentally stumbles upon a shipment of cocaine? probably not have sex with him. easier said than done.

LAVALANTULA! starring scientist!nanami

WILL FEATURE HUMILIATION + BREEDING

keeping your crush on a coworker secret is hard! a lot harder when the volcano you've both been observing for months erupts - and now you've got to struggle to survive fire-breathing tarantulas together.

GOJO VS. EVIL! starring frat!gojo

WILL FEATURE SEX TOYS + APHRODISIACS

a cabin in the woods. a quiet pond to fish on. a relaxing little getaway where you could enjoy some peace and quiet. what could go wrong? a group of annoyingly attractive college students crashing your sweet spot - and start dying off after you save a beautiful blue-eyed idiot from drowning?

a/n: these fics will probably take me longer than october to finish up but i'll do my best <3 some of them will be shorter, closer to drabbles and few will be longer oneshots :3

Suddenly imagined leading on a guy you've been seeing by making out with him after your dates and abruptly stopping to tell him that you're gonna go home and think about him when you masturbate and then you just leave him high and dry. And of course one day he snaps and fingers you outside of your home bc you've been teasing him too much

"Someone's gonna see," you whisper with worry, trying to peek over his broad shoulder to look around the neighborhood.

"Let them," he grumbles into your ear, hiking your leg up higher on his waist so he can stuff a third finger inside you. He smirks when you mewl at the stretch. "You like that? You like being filled up?"

"Uh-huh," you whine, high and needy. He hums against your cheek, pressing a kiss there.

"I could fill you up so well, Y/N, hit every spot you like inside you. I could make you feel so good."

You moan his name when he curls his fingers, his palm rubbing against your clit as he thrusts the digits inside of you. You can feel yourself leaking down your thigh.

"I could make you cum as much as you want, could go all night if you wanted. I'd do anything to make you feel good."

"Please," you whisper harshly, digging your nails into his shoulders. "I'm so close."

"Let me give you what you need, darling."

He keeps his pace and technique, hitting the same spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Other guys would've sped up or fucked something up, but your boyfriend is consistent, just what you needed.

God, you should've done this sooner. The orgasm creeping up on you is going to be big. You vaguely pray that his dick could make you feel just as good as you topple over the edge, tucking your face into his shoulder to muffle your moans.

He guides you through it, massaging your cunt as you flutter down. He pulls out his fingers and begins sucking them clean, moaning low.

God, you need him. You need him so badly. You'll even fuck him on your porch, you don't care anymore. You just need his cock buried deep inside you, thrusting wildly and meticulously until you're braindead.

When you go to palm his cock, he grabs your wrist. You pout as he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, then leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your temple. He lets you go and turns away, stepping down off your porch.

"W-Wait—"

"Sorry, dear," he says, looking back at you. "I promise to think about you when I masturbate later."

ryomen sukuna does not concern himself with the miserable dwellings of day to day life of peasants (aka his frat buddies)

he parties,he gyms, he balls. he looks good and smells good and keeps his women limited to strict one night schedules.

he doesn't give two shits about who's fucking whom and whichever latest breakups circulating around campus. and he definitely doesn't keep track of his friends' girlfriends.

except when he spotted you one night , sitting in one corner of the raging neon lit room , fiddling with your fingers as you watched your boyfriend dance with other women .

sukuna told himself he didn't care about how your smile kept faltering or how sad your eyes looked.

yet, he never wanted to punch a man to oblivion so much than at that moment. he reigned himself in that night.

but the next time when he saw your crestfallen expression when your asshole boyfriend dismissed your homecooked lunch before the entire team , sukuna lost it.

so yeah. he did punch his teammate and frat mate to oblivion.

the rest was easy and quick. some bruises here and there. a little blood. but his favourite part was hearing your shy mouth yell "fuck you , you bastard" on your boyfriends bloody and beaten face (courtesy of him)

but sukuna's life somehow became even more convoluted after that.

his eyes track the slight colouring of your cheeks , the way your gaze darts away from his as you mutter a shy "thank you" .

the sweet scent of your shampoo lingers in his nose when you pass by him in the corridors. his mind replays the small smile you gave him when he crossed paths with you, in the dark quiet of his room.

days escalate to weeks and he finds himself sitting on the bleachers after practice, eating from the cute pink bento you prepared for him as he listens to you read out a line from your favourite book.

he surprises himself when he throws away his entire stash of cigarettes after you tell him one afternoon that you dislike the smell of them.

as autumn approaches, sukuna finds himself before you , pink cheeked, handing you the books he picked out in hopes that you would enjoy them.

ryomen sukuna did not care about feelings . he never bothered to question his own lack of them. but then how was he supposed to justify the way his heart beat stuttered when you placed a soft, barely there kiss on his cheek after he walked you to your apartment?

ryomen sukuna did not bother with cheek kisses. he was rough and in the bed,took from the women what he wanted.

and you were the antagonist of everything he was accustomed to. because it wasn't rough and hard and frantic when it came to you. hell, he hadn't even tasted your lips, and somehow sex hadn't even crossed his mind.

he was willing to take even the tiniest bit of affection you showed him. and somehow it was enough for him.

with you it was lingering fingers, and soft glances. easy smiles and reading poetry. eating sundaes at 10pm under the streetlights .

and when he realised that he looked forward to hearing your soft voice as you read to him, and eating your handcooked meals instead of his bland protein shakes and walking you home as the lamposts cast a warm glow on your skin—sukuna realised that he was utterly fucked.

because, as much as he wanted to deny it, he was no fool.

he was in love.

Me at 3 AM, horny as hell, scrolling through my likes looking for that one fanfic i read months ago

Letters for the Wicked - ch 05

⁀➷ summary: ryomen sukuna has been in jail for 9 years, 3 months, and 27 days...not that he's counting. sentenced to 20 years for a crime he doesn't regret committing, life has become so monotonous and dull that he barely feels alive. it isn't until he receives a letter from someone for the first time since he's been locked up that he feels even a shred of emotion...and he's not sure if he likes that. forced to be part of the prison penpal program in order to be considered for parole, sukuna slowly unravels his defenses with each letter received. perhaps there might be something worth looking forward to after all.

⁀➷ pairing: prisoner!sukuna x penpal!fem!reader

⁀➷ tags: prison au, penpals to reluctant friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine-ish, probably ooc, slight age gap (reader is mid twenties, sukuna is early 30s), yearning, angst, slowburn, eventual smut, mentions of death, prison, minimal use of y/n in letters only, fluff-adjacent, awkward phone calls, social anxiety from reader, self-deprecation, sukuna is royally screwed (not literally), that's for later ;)

⁀➷ wc: 5.4k

⁀➷ warning: minors/ageless blogs: do not interact!

⁀➷ taglist: open, bio/pinned must confirm age

series masterlist

For the next few months, you and Ryomen continued to exchange letters. What started as stilted and a little awkward correspondence quickly melted into something like familiarity. You could tell by the way his language changed that Ryomen was starting to relax a little and become accustomed to your written presence. Though, you still could not say for sure if the two of you counted as friends. Even as much as you wanted to be.

You really liked Ryomen. He was insightful, sarcastic, interesting, and really funny when he wanted to be. He listened without judgement and offered advice, sometimes unsolicited but still good nonetheless. The man was honest to a fault, and you found that refreshing given that you worked with defense lawyers who had to stretch the truth often.

Every time you got a letter from him, you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, your cheeks tinging pink. You tried not to read into the sheer happiness that the letters gave you. Tried to tell yourself that there was nothing special about this. Moreso, that you were probably not anything special to Ryomen. But, god was it hard.

His most recent letter was putting this flimsy belief system to the test.

— not proofread, heavy daddykink.

the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city filtering through the windows. you're curled up on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through nothing in particular. your jaw is set, your body language closed off. you're not just sitting here—you're pointedly sitting here, making sure toji knows exactly how pissed off you are.

he stood you up. again.

you'd gotten dressed up for once, traded your usual comfortable fit for something that hugged your curves, did your hair, put on makeup. you'd waited at that restaurant for forty-five minutes like a damn fool before his text came through: got held up at the shop. can't make it.

no apology. no explanation. just that.

so now you're giving him what he deserves: absolutely nothing. not a word, not a glance, not a single acknowledgment of his existence. let him see how it feels to be ignored.

the front door opens with a heavy click, and you don't look up. you hear his boots on the floor, the familiar sound of him dropping his keys on the small table by the entrance. the scent hits you next—motor oil, metal, sweat, that distinctly masculine smell of a man who's spent all day working with his hands. usually, it does something to you. usually, you'd be up and greeting him, asking about his day.

not tonight.

"Y/N."

his voice is low, that lazy drawl that normally makes your stomach flip. you keep your eyes on your phone, thumb scrolling with deliberate casualness.

you hear him move closer, his footsteps slow and measured. he’s standing at the edge of the living room now, and you can feel his eyes on you. the black fitted shirt he wears is probably stained with grease, stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. those worn grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. the scar on his lip probably pulled tight as he frowns.

you don't look. you won't look.

"i know you hear me, girl."

your jaw tightens, but you don't respond. your heart is hammering, but you keep your face neutral, your posture relaxed. you're not giving him the satisfaction.

there's a long pause. you can practically feel his irritation building, mixing with something else—something darker and more dangerous. toji doesn't like being ignored. he doesn't like when you pull away from him, when you assert your independence in ways that challenge his control.

"so that's how it's gonna be?" his voice is closer now. he's moved into the living room, and from your peripheral vision, you can see him standing there, arms crossed over his chest. "you gonna sit there and act like i don't exist?"

you scroll past another post, your expression carefully blank.

"Y/N." there's a warning in his tone now, that edge that says his patience is wearing thin. "look at me."

you don't.

"fuckin' stubborn," he mutters, and you hear him move. the couch dips as he sits down next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against yours. the heat of him, the smell of him, it's overwhelming. your body wants to respond, wants to lean into him like it always does, but you force yourself to stay rigid.

"baby." his voice drops lower, almost coaxing. “come on now. don't be like this."

you turn slightly away from him, angling your body to put more distance between you. it's a small movement, but it speaks volumes.

you hear him exhale, a long breath that sounds almost amused. "aight. i see."

before you can process what's happening, his hand is on your phone, plucking it from your grip with easy strength. you make a sound of protest, reaching for it, but he tosses it onto the coffee table, well out of reach.

"toji—"

"oh, so you can talk." the corner of his mouth quirks up, that scar pulling with the movement. his dark eyes are fixed on you, intense and unyielding. "thought maybe you'd gone mute."

"give me my phone back." your voice is cold, clipped.

"nah. don't think i will." he shifts, turning to face you more fully. his arm stretches along the back of the couch, caging you in. "think we need to have a conversation."

"i don't want to talk to you."

"that right?" he's studying you, taking in your tight expression, the way you're holding yourself away from him. "you mad about last night."

it’s not a question. of course he knows. you don't bother confirming it.

"had a job run long," he says, his tone matter-of-fact. "couldn't leave it half-done."

"you could've called earlier. you could've—" you stop yourself, pressing your lips together. you're not doing this. you’re not going to beg for basic consideration.

"could've what?" he leans in slightly, his voice dropping. "could've dropped everything because you wanted to go out? you know how i am, Y/N. work comes first."

"and i come last, apparently."

something flashes in his eyes—irritation mixed with something else. "don't be dramatic. you know that ain't true."

"do i?" you finally turn to look at him fully, letting him see the hurt beneath the anger. "because from where i'm sitting, it seems like i’m pretty low on your priority list."

his jaw tightens. "watch it."

"or what?" the words come out sharper than you intended, your stubbornness rising to meet his dominance. "you’ll ignore me some more? stand me up again?"

"Y/N." there's a warning in the way he says your name, low and dangerous.

"i’m done with this conversation." you move to stand up, to escape the suffocating proximity of him, but his hand shoots out, gripping your thigh and holding you in place.

"didn't say you could leave."

"let go of me, toji."

"no." his grip tightens, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh through your sweatpants. "you're gonna sit here and listen."

"i don't want to—"

"don't care what you want right now." his other hand comes up to your jaw, turning your face toward him with firm pressure. "you're gonna stop this bratty shit and talk to me like an adult."

you try to jerk away from his grip, but he holds firm. "i’m not being bratty. i’m being reasonable. you stood me up, toji. you didn't even apologize."

"you want an apology?" his thumb strokes along your jawline, a gesture that would be tender if not for the steel in his grip. "fine. i'm sorry i missed dinner. but you know how it is. you know what my work is like."

"that's not—" you're frustrated now, the words tumbling out. "it's not about the dinner. it's about the fact that you didn't even seem to care. you sent a text like it was nothing, like i was nothing."

his eyes narrow. "you think you're nothin' to me?"

"i think you take me for granted."

for a moment, he's silent, studying you with that intense gaze that seems to see right through you. then, slowly, his hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there—a reminder of his presence, his power.

"that what you think?" his voice is soft now, almost dangerous in its quietness. "think i don't appreciate you?"

your breath catches.

"think i don't notice when you get all pretty for me? when you cook my favorite meals, keep this place clean even though i tell you not to?" his thumb strokes along your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of your heart. "think i don't know exactly what i got?"

"then act like it," you whisper, hating how your voice wavers.

"i do act like it. i take care of you, don't i? keep a roof over your head, make sure you're safe, make sure you're satisfied." his hand slides lower, from your throat to your collarbone, then down to rest on your chest, right above your heart. "just 'cause i missed one dinner doesn't mean i don't value you."

"it wasn't just one—"

"but you're right." he cuts you off, and there's something in his expression now, something almost predatory. "i should've called earlier. should've made more of an effort." his hand moves lower, skimming over your breast through your tight shirt, and you inhale sharply. "so let me make it up to you."

"that's not—" your protest dies as his hand continues its path downward, over your stomach, to the waistband of your sweatpants. "toji, no. I'm still mad at you."

"i know you are." his fingers slip beneath the elastic, and you grab his wrist, trying to stop him. "but your body's tellin' me somethin' different."

"i said no." you try to sound firm, but your voice comes out breathy.

"you sure about that?" he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "cause you're shakin', baby. and not from anger."

"i don't want—"

"liar." his hand pushes past your resistance, sliding into your sweatpants, then beneath your panties. when his fingers make contact with your cunt, you both know the truth. you’re wet. not just a little—you're soaked. "fuck, Y/N. this what 'i don't want' feels like?"

shame and arousal war within you as his fingers explore, sliding through your slickness with practiced ease. you try to close your legs, but his other hand grips your thigh, forcing them apart.

"toji, stop—"

"thought you were ignorin' me." his voice is mocking now, amused. “thought you were so mad you couldn't even look at me. but here you are, pussy drippin' all over my fingers."

"shut up." you're still gripping his wrist, but you're not pulling anymore. you can't. your body has betrayed you completely.

"make me." he finds your clit, circling it with rough fingers, and you gasp. "that’s what i thought. all that attitude, all that silent treatment, and the moment i touch you, you fold."

"i hate you." the words come out as a moan as he increases the pressure, rubbing your clit in firm circles.

"no, you don't." he bites your earlobe, hard enough to sting. "you love this. love when daddy puts you in your place."

the word sends a jolt through you—part embarrassment, part arousal. your hips buck involuntarily as he slides two fingers inside you, stretching you, filling you.

“fuck you.”

"that's the plan, baby." he starts pumping his fingers, slow and deep, his thumb still working your clit. "but first, i’m gonna make you come on my hand. gonna make you scream for me while you're supposed to be givin' me the silent treatment."

you bite your lip, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape, but it's useless. he knows your body too well, knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes.

"there it is." his voice is dark with satisfaction. "there's my girl. knew you couldn't stay quiet."

"toji—" it's half protest, half plea.

"what happened to that attitude, huh?" he's pumping faster now, his fingers making obscene wet sounds as they work in and out of you. "where's all that anger? that stubbornness?"

you can't answer. can't think. your hands have moved from his wrist to his shoulders, gripping him for support as pleasure builds in your core. your hips are moving now, grinding against his hand, chasing the release he's dangling in front of you.

"look at you, fuckin' yourself on my fingers." he sounds almost lazy, like this is easy for him, like he's not affected at all. "so desperate. so needy. and you were tryin' to ignore me."

"please—" the word slips out before you can stop it.

"please what?" his thumb presses hard against your clit, and you cry out. "say it properly. ask daddy nicely."

your face burns with humiliation and need. "toji—"

his fingers slow to an agonizing crawl. "that ain't what i told you to call me."

"i can't—"

"yes, you can." he brings you right to the edge and then backs off, and you whine in frustration. "say it, or i stop right now and leave you like this."

"you wouldn't.”

"try me." his voice is steel. "you wanna be a brat, you can finish yourself off. but if you want me to make you come, you're gonna use your manners and call me what i told you to."

you’re trembling, desperate, your body screaming for release. your pride wars with your need, but need wins. it always does with him.

"please," you gasp out, the word barely a whisper. "please, daddy—"

"can't hear you, baby." he’s mocking you now, enjoying your surrender. "speak up."

"please, daddy!" the words come out louder, desperate. "please don't stop."

"there we go." the satisfaction in his voice is palpable. "atta girl. that's so much better, ain't it? now tell daddy you're sorry for ignorin' him."

"i’m sorry." your voice breaks. "im sorry for ignoring you, daddy."

"good fuckin' girl." he rewards you by resuming his movements, faster now, harder, his fingers curling to hit that perfect spot with every thrust. "now come for daddy. come all over my fingers like the good girl you are."

it doesn't take long. the combination of his fingers inside you, his thumb on your clit, his voice in your ear—it's too much. your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing your breath, making your body convulse. you cry out, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure overwhelms you.

"that's it," he murmurs, working you through it. "that's my girl. so fuckin' pretty when you come."

you're still shaking, still coming down from the high, when he withdraws his fingers. you watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

"delicious," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "but we ain't done yet."

before you can process his words, he's moving. his hands grip your hips, and he flips you over with easy strength, positioning you on your hands and knees on the couch. your sweatpants and panties are yanked down to your thighs, exposing you to the cool air of the apartment.

"toji, wait—"

"nah. you've made me wait long enough." you hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his sweatpants down. "been thinkin' about this all day. thinkin' about comin' home and buryin' myself in this pussy. then you wanna give me attitude?"

you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and despite the orgasm you just had, your body responds immediately, clenching with anticipation.

"you're gonna take all of me," he says, his voice rough. "gonna take every inch and thank me for it."

he pushes in without warning, one hard thrust that seats him fully inside you. you cry out at the stretch, the fullness, the slight burn of being taken so quickly. he's big—thick and long—and even wet as you are, it's almost too much.

"fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "tight as always. this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you can't answer. can barely breathe. he's so deep, filling you completely, and when he pulls back and thrusts in again, you see stars.

"answer me." he punctuates the command with another hard thrust. "who does this pussy belong to?"

"you!" The word is torn from you. "it belongs to you!"

"that ain't what i wanna hear." he slows his pace deliberately, making you whimper. "try again. who do you belong to?"

your face burns, but your body is screaming for him to move faster, harder. "daddy," you gasp out. "i belong to daddy."

"there's my good fuckin' girl." the satisfaction in his voice is palpable, and he rewards you by setting a brutal pace, fucking into you with deep, powerful strokes that rock your entire body. the couch creaks beneath you, and you have to brace yourself against the armrest to keep from being pushed forward. "this is mine. you're mine. don't care how mad you get, that don't change."

each thrust drives the point home, literally and figuratively. you're moaning now, unable to hold back the sounds as he takes you roughly, possessively. your fingers grip the couch cushions, your back arching to take him deeper.

"that's it," he growls. "take it. take all of daddy's cock."

his hand comes down on your ass, a sharp slap that makes you yelp. the sting blooms into heat, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"you look so good like this," he continues, his voice strained now, losing some of that lazy control. "all spread out for me, takin' my cock like you were made for it. and you were gonna ignore me? gonna act like you don't need daddy to fuck you like this?"

"i—ah—i do need it," you admit, shame and arousal mixing into something intoxicating. "need you, daddy."

"i know you do, baby." his hand slides up your spine, then fists in your hair—he grips it firmly, pulling your head back. "i know you need daddy to fuck you like this. need me to remind you who you belong to."

the new angle has him hitting even deeper, and you feel another orgasm building, impossibly soon after the first. your walls clench around him, and he groans.

"fuck, you're close again already, ain't you?" he sounds smug, satisfied. "greedy little thing. one ain't enough?"

"please—" you're begging now, all pretense of resistance gone. "please, daddy, i need—"

"what do you need? say it properly."

"need you to make me come!" the words spill out desperately. "need daddy to make me come again!"

"that's better." he releases your hair, and both hands grip your hips again, holding you steady as he pounds into you. "who makes you feel this good, huh? who's the only one who can fuck you like this?"

"you do!" you're sobbing now, overwhelmed by sensation. "daddy does! only daddy!"

"damn right." his thrusts become even harder, more possessive. "this body is mine. this pussy is mine. you're mine. say it."

"i’m yours, daddy!" you're so close, teetering on the edge. "i'm all yours!"

"then come for daddy." it's a command, delivered in that authoritative tone that goes straight to your core. "come on my cock right now."

your body obeys before your mind can catch up. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, stronger than the first, making your arms give out. you collapse forward onto the couch, your face pressed into the cushions as you scream your release, his name—his title—falling from your lips like a prayer. "daddy, daddy, daddy—"

your cunt clenches rhythmically around him, trying to pull him deeper, and you hear him curse.

"fuck, that's it, milk daddy's cock—" his rhythm falters, becoming erratic. "such a good girl for me. gonna fill you up, baby. gonna pump you full of daddy's cum."

he thrusts deep one last time and holds there, and you feel him pulsing inside you, filling you with his release. his grip on your hips is almost painful, holding you in place as he empties himself into you with a low groan.

for a long moment, neither of you moves. you're both breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. you can feel him softening inside you, feel the mixture of your releases starting to leak out.

slowly, carefully, he pulls out. you whimper at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. he tucks himself back into his sweatpants, then gently pulls your panties and sweatpants back up, his touch surprisingly tender after the roughness of moments before.

"come here." his voice is softer now, that lazy drawl back in full force.

you don't have the energy to resist. he helps you turn over, then pulls you into his lap, cradling you against his chest. you can hear his heartbeat, still elevated, gradually slowing. his hand strokes your back in soothing circles.

"you good?" he asks after a moment.

you nod against his chest, not trusting your voice yet.

"look at me, baby."

reluctantly, you lift your head. his dark eyes are softer now, some of that intensity faded into satisfaction and something that might be affection.

"i am sorry," he says, and this time it sounds genuine. "about last night. should've handled it better."

you study his face, looking for sincerity, and find it in the slight downturn of his scarred mouth, the way he's looking at you.

"okay," you whisper.

"but don't pull that ignorin' shit again." the warning is back in his voice, though it's tempered with amusement. "you got somethin' to say to me, you say it. don't make me drag it out of you."

"you're one to talk about communication," you point out, some of your spirit returning.

his mouth quirks up. "fair enough. we'll both work on it."

it’s probably the closest thing to a compromise you'll get from him, and honestly, after what just happened, you're too wrung out to push for more.

"you're still an asshole," you mutter, but there's no heat in it.

"yeah, but i'm your asshole." he presses a kiss to your forehead, surprisingly gentle. "and you're my stubborn, beautiful girl who drives me fuckin' crazy."

despite everything, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. "you drive me crazy too."

"i know." he sounds entirely too pleased with himself. "but you love it."

you do. god help you, you do.

you settle back against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe you. his hand continues its path up and down your back, and you feel the tension that's been coiled in your body for the past day finally start to release.

"next time," you say quietly, "just call me earlier. that's all i ask."

"i can do that." his arms tighten around you slightly. "and next time you're pissed at me, use your words instead of givin' me the silent treatment. deal?"

“deal”

you sit there together in the quiet apartment, the city sounds filtering in through the windows, the smell of motor oil and sex and home surrounding you. it's not perfect—nothing with toji ever is. he's too dominating, too set in his ways, and you're too stubborn, too independent. you clash and fight and drive each other crazy.

but moments like this, when the fighting is done and it's just the two of you, when his rough hands are gentle and his gruff voice is soft—these moments make it worth it.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, golden stripes across the tatami mats. Usually, you would spend at least ten minutes entangled in Ryomen's suffocating, four-armed embrace, enduring his rough-textured skin and sleepy grunts. But today, you were late.

You slid out of the futon, throwing on a robe and tying your hair back in a rush. You didn’t notice the immediate shift in the room's energy—the way the heavy, oppressive aura of the King of Curses suddenly stirred.

As you paced around the kitchen island, frantically brewing coffee and packing a bag, a towering figure leaned against the doorframe.

Ryomen looked a mess.

His pink hair was completely wild, his yukata hung loosely off one broad shoulder, and all four of his eyes were narrowed into slits. He crossed his upper arms, while his lower arms rested on his hips.

Then, the mumbling started.

“...unbelievable,” he growled softly, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that still carried the weight of sleep. “Brat wakes up, doesn't say a word. Walks right past me like I'm some common curse in the streets. After everything I tolerate...”

You paused, holding a spoon. “Ryomen, did you say something?”

He didn't look at you.

Instead, he stared intently at a spot on the kitchen wall, his lower jaw shifting as he continued to mutter under his breath. “I should dismantle this entire house. The audacity. A thousand years ago, men bled out in the dirt just for a glimpse of my face, and here I am, being ignored for a cup of bean water. Truly pathetic.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

You set the spoon down and turned to face him fully. “Are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I don't throw tantrums, human,” he snapped, though his eyes finally flicked to yours, burning with mock irritation. “I state facts. You lack discipline. You lack respect.”

He took a slow, deliberate step into the kitchen, his massive frame completely eclipsing the light. He didn't stop until he was inches away from you, trapping you between his chest and the kitchen counter. His extra hands came down on either side of you, effectively pinning you in place.

“Well?” he murmured, leaning his face down. His upper eyes were squinted shut in a pout he would die before admitting to, while his lower eyes watched your mouth. “Are you going to fix your mistake, or do I have to remind you who rules this domain?”

You laughed softly, reaching up to cup his jaw.

His skin was warm, and the rough markings beneath your fingers felt familiar.

“Good morning, Ryomen,” you whispered.

You leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Instantly, the tense lines of his shoulders relaxed. Before you could pull away, his upper hands caught the back of your head, deep-fruiting his fingers into your hair to prolong the kiss, turning it into something possessive and deep.

When he finally let you go, a smug, satisfied smirk had replaced his scowl.

“Hmph...” he grunted, turning on his heel to head toward the porch, his yukata trailing behind him. “See that it doesn't happen again tomorrow. I won't be so lenient.”

© 2026 aeresha. All content is owned by @aeresha. Do not repost, edit, translate, or copy in any form across any platform.

listen to me.

[ chapter 1 ] [ chapter 2 ] [ chapter 3 ]

[ TAGS ] — use of alcohol. mention of weed. MISSCOMMUNICATION. slow burn. socially awkward reader. self-consciousness. overthinking. anxiety. social anxiety. slang.

[ wc: 8.1K ] [ series masterlist ] [ prefer ao3? ]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

sukuna couldn't get you out of his mind the whole weekend after the party— how you acted so disinterested in him before and then had the audacity to kiss him still baffled him. not that he was complaining— the way you pulled him into the kiss is replaying in his mind on loop. those seven minutes weren't enough to feed the hunger you've awakened in him. 

Sukuna x Fem Reader [Modern Era]

You met Sukuna when you were trying to kill yourself. Simple as that. There was no love story, no tension, and no love at first sight. Just a depressed girl trying to end it all and an insane psycho on the wanted list saving her.

He didn't even save you because he cared or felt bad. No, it was because you chose a building that was his warehouse holding many illegal things, and if you died there, it would draw unwanted attention.

So he saved you. But it was more like he saved himself a lot of problems.

you will get boxer!choso part one

masterlist! / full series

since this is short and im overwhelmed with all my damn drafts im making part two rn! :)

pairing- fratkuna! x reader

By definition Ryōmen Sukuna was a man whore. Drawn to the warm fleeting comfort of women, but never letting them stay, break down his walls.

cw- p in v, fingering, oral fem + male rec, creampies, cheating(?), degratoin, praise, sukuna hoeing around, yn lowk a shitty freind, makin him wait, big dick kuna, making it fit, spit, mentioned baby trapping, porn wit to much plot, denial, edging, (most warnings come into play next chapter)

Well, until he met somebody who didnt offer him that one comfort, but so many others

wc- 5375

A rigid frown yanked on Sukuna’s face. “You fucking cheated on me!” The small girl in front of him screeched, pulling the attention of the people lingering in the crowded hall.

The worst part about this whole ordeal is that  he literally didn't. To be cheating on somebody you have to be fucking dating them, and he had made it more than clear, the two of them were not a thing.

“We aren't dating.” He hissed under his breath. “Why would I owe you my loyalty?”

frat!kuna with fwb!sensitive reader

being fwb with frat!kuna triggers you more then you’d like to admit.

his actions, his reactions, his responses— his facial expressions all impact you thoroughly.

like now. at this frat party you’d only attended in hopes to catch a glimpse of him.

just to bless your ears with that bored, lazy deep voice that suddenly became an everyday necessity for you— regulating your nervous system without having the knowledge he even had that much of an impact on you.

just to. . . be in his presence. be close in contact, your manicured nails in his salmon colored hair.. his mesmerizing crimson low-lidded eyes to be focused on you. (only you) your smaller form curled in his lap after long days.

yet you aren’t the one in his presence in current time, instead your leaned over a marble counter top— the pout on your face evident, the sparkle in your eyes absent. the flutter in your eyes weak, glued stuck to him, he’s sat on that worn down couch with a girl.

not just any girl. you’ve seen her before, countless times at these kinds of parties. she’s part of a sorority you think, the way she’s confident in her contact with ryo- sukuna, only sorority girls have that confidence to be sat in a guys lap without the unnecessary squirming— the warm growing blush on her cheek absent, the way she isn’t giggling nonstop like you usually do.. she’s sat confidently. not curled up like you. not shy like you. not anything like you.

your manicured nail sneaks past your glossy plumped lips quicker then the way your eyes travel the same direction as sukunas hands travel up the sorority girls exposed back. his big veiny hand coming to an end as he settles on her lower back, just as your eyes settle on his face.

you’ve been in that same position with that same stare in your eyes and that same crumpled up expression in defeat for nearing an hour already. he hasn’t noticed you.

maybe you should leave. just as your eyes flicker down to the red solo cup still filled to the brim with a cheap beer gojo had offered as you walked in, he sees you.

your ryo sees you. is he yours?

your eyes meet, his expression changes. his jaw clenches, his eyes become more low then they already automatically are— his hand drops from her back. he’s up before you can even blink, all 6’4 of him being drawn to you like some magnet.

you shift before you can realize your feet are moving. the click of your kitten heels are the way sukuna is led directly towards you. and the way no matter how many people are in this enclosed space.. you stick out to him.

you aren’t drunk. your more sober then any one in the room— which is why your trying to find out why your nervous system is being triggered so deeply.

you feel it in the way you swallow, the way you blink and then your eyes grow heavy. filled to the brim with hot tears ready to spill at any given time.

you’d understand if you were drunk is why your being so sensitive, but you aren’t! stuck in your thoughts you don’t even know where your heading. the next thing you know you’ve made your way around the whole layout of whoever’s home this is, exploring hidden spaces that aren’t as crowded or as loud as the space you had just been in.

and sukunas been trailing behind you the whole marathon you’d practically done trying to get away from him, your facing your back to him. deserved, he thinks.

“done runnin?” that deep lazy, boredom evident in his tone of voice affects you like electricity. you feel a wave of anger rush through your chest.

“are you done playing house with whatever sorority girl that was easy enough for you to have her sitting in your lap for an hour?” you speak, quick to spin back to face him purely out of anger. he knows because you talk so quickly and so much more then usual when your emotions are vulnerable.

he chuckles, breathlessly— yet his expression stays the same. he thinks it’s amusing. amusing to have you, his favorite girl so upset the way you are.

“if anythin, your the one who i been running around playing house with.” he remarks, which isn’t a lie.

your lip continues to mindlessly quiver, specifically your bottom lip. trembling like your put out in the pouring rain.

he notices. of course he does. he noticed you before you’d even entered the house party. he watched you closely walk in, nervously pacing around the yard with shaky and sweaty hands to convince yourself to walk in with confidence.

his sweet shy girl. he chuckles again; unknowingly that he’d pushed you to far. before he can even spit out another teasing comment, hot tears are rushing down your face, your nervous system highly stimulated as you let out a broken sob slip past your lips.

his eyes widen— his hands find their way to your jaw, your cheeks stained with wet tears that interfere with your makeup base.

his big hands come around, your face sitting like a puzzle piece in his hand tightened around your cheeks.

“hey. hey. hey,” he begins, wiping the salty tears with his rough hands.

“uh-uh. why you cryin? hm? wanna tell me?” he continues, voice oddly low and soothing although you don’t want to acknowledge that fact.

you shake your head no, beginning to have your body physically reacting now, you begin to shiver as tears continue spill from your eyes that still are welled up with more tears threatening to fall.

he pulls you in now. wrapping his free hand around your waist, snaking the other around your back keeping you steady as he shushes you slowly.

“cus’ of that girl huh?” he says, once he’s silently comforted you with a constant rub of your lower back.

you nod, still recovering. he knows you don’t speak when your this emotional.

he tilts your face at a proportion where his crimson eyes are solely stuck on yours. those teary eyed fluttering eyes that maintain eye contact with his low majestic eyes.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he speaks meaningfully.

you stare, still huffing.

“didn’t know you get this worked up. wouldn’t have even spoke a word to her if i knew your this sensitive.” he teases softly, less intimidating and less teasing.

“cos.. your my.. we have a rule.” you correct yourself.

he catches it, the slip of your tongue.

“i know mkay? didn’t forget brat. think i would’ve fucked up our agreement over some sorority chick?” he humors, your face pressed against his arm now.

“dunno. looked like it..” you mumble. bottom lip seeming to rest normally against your top again.

he laughs again, deep and loud.

you lightly bring a hand to his bicep, lightly slapping it.

“you knew i was staring at you. did it on purpose.” you huff, sitting up straight from your previous position- face slouched into his arm.

“felt your bratty lil glare. knew it was to much when i touched her lower back,” he says, fucking asshole!

you glare at him momentarily, nostrils flared.

“cmon. up, your sleepy already. can tell by that bratty ass attitude and you being a crybaby.” he states, not asks but telling you your sleepy.

you are, but you won’t tell him that. feeding his ego more then it already has been fed today by your unwavering gaze stuck on him with another girl.

you oblige, as he begins his long strides towards a nearby exit.

you don’t follow his steps, still standing there as you wait. he should know this protocol by now. he needs to hold your hand! guide you through the crowd.. like a friend should.

he quickly feels the absence of your smaller form pressed against his side, skipping back as he grabs your hand and wraps your soft fingers around his rough.

“so clingy hm?” he teases, pressing a kiss atop your head as he holds you while you two disappear into the night—

good friends.