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ohnococo · 24 days

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How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader

You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.

✧ wc: 6.3k

✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater

✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot

i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.

“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”

He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”

It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.

“Just let me do my job.”

You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.

The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.

“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”

You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.

“Stand against the wall.”

He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”

“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Toji.”

He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.

“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.

“Okay, upper body.”

You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.

“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.

He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”

It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.

As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”

He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”

You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.

“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”

To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”

As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”

You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”

“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”

You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”

It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.

When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.

The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.

At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.

And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.

i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel

Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.

“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”

You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”

He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”

“I wouldn’t say favourite.”

He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”

Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.

You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”

He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.

“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”

This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.

Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.

“I like this.”

“It feels alright?”

“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”

You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”

Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.

His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.

—

After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.

“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start, Toji.”

You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.

“You don’t have to if you-“

“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”

Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.

“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”

He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”

As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.

It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.

Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.

What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.

He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.

His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.

Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.

Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.

Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.

i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride

When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.

He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.

“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”

He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”

You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”

He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”

You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”

“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”

“Is that what I said, Toji?”

Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”

You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.

It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.

He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.

“What is it now?”

You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.

Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.

His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.

It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.

“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.

“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”

He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.

You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.

“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”

He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.

You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.

“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”

His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.

“Thought so.”

He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.

“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”

It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.

“Kiss me. If you wanna.”

You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.

He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.

It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.

That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.

You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.

He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.

“You gonna cum just like this?”

You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.

“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”

It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”

He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”

His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”

Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”

“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.

“I want to cum.”

“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”

You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.

He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.

“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”

You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”

He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.

“Want me to go slow?”

He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”

“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.

You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”

It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”

You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.

Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”

It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.

He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.

He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”

You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.

“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.

This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.

“That easy, huh?”

The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.

You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.

“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.

He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #mma!au #mma!toji #mma fighter!toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #x reader #self insert

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void-bitten-ghost · 4 months

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Modern Mizu hears you like a bit of 'danger and excitement' from one of your friends, so she takes you to an underground fighting ring for like, your fifth date. This is after the gun range fiasco, so you've already seen a side of Mizu that not many have been allowed to see.

When she mentions this idea you're like, so fucking excited but still kinda like??? There's one of these here????? Nearby????? Holy shit yes???? Please?????? That's so cool?????

She specifically avoids answering how she knows it exists. This isn't about her. This is about sharing an experience she loves and you've shown interest in.

She picks you up on her bike (because Of Course she would have a motorbike that's like either this hand-me-down or a fixer-upper she restored) and you go. It's exactly what you thought it would be, off vibes and dodgy people, but being with Mizu somehow makes you feel safe because she's confident. But it's not an arrogant kind of confidence, it's a steady, assured sort of confidence that puts you right at ease as she takes your hand and leads you through the crowd.

Now, something you don't know is this is not Mizu's stomping grounds. Not even close. But she knew it by name and reputation and it was close enough you could both make a night out of it rather than three. Although... she wouldn't mind if that were to happen--

She snaps back to reality when you step forward and holler out encouragement to the scrawnier one of the two currently in the ring. The corner of her mouth quirks at your enthusiasm, a brow lifting and a hip popping as she crosses her arms to just. Watch you. As you lose yourself to the energy of the room.

The match ends with the scrawny one getting his ass handed to him by the dude built like a brick shit-house. She expected as much. It takes a certain amount of skill to be able to take a mountain of a man like that down while having such a slight build. She'd know, after all.

Anyway. Everything is going swimmingly until some prick pushes his luck trying to get your attention. You very bluntly tell him he's barking up the wrong tree and he does not take the rejection well. Mizu tries to not intervene directly with your battles too often. You're a capable person, it's one of the things she lov- likes. Likes about you.

But then the burly fuck reaches for you. You smack his hand away and go to headbutt him. She grabs you by the waist before you could start the climb to reach and if you weren't so riled up you might have short circuited at the feel of her calloused hand on your skin.

"This bitch yours, mutt?" He grunts to Mizu, and you see fucking red.

"You fucking dare call her a mutt you jumped up little cun--"

"Yes," she says over you, calm as a still lake, and you do actually short circuit at Mizu calling you 'hers'. The heat of anger in you switches gears to something far sweeter, but no less scalding.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't upset her," Mizu says, her fingers trailing to your hip and gripping a belt loop possessively. You can suddenly feel every point of contact. Hip, arm, chest...

That's when the man looks at Mizu. Really looks at her with a lean forward and squinted eyes, looking over her tinted shades.

"Onryo," he breathes, and you feel Mizu tense behind you. She hadn't heard that name for a good long while. It was a name from her troubled youth. One she thought was long behind her since going legit.

"You're a long way from home, demon."

"What of it?"

You could sense something was happening as the two spoke in what you thought was an amicable tone, but then Mizu is pulling you behind her and shedding her jacket. You take hold of it instinctively as she went to drop it on the ground and she finally turns your way.

"Everything is fine," she tells you in that same confident tone, but she must see your confusion and anxiety written on your face because she takes your chin in her hand and gives you a quick peck on the lips. You stand there with a stupid, dumbstruck look she grins at as she--

She's heading to the ring. She's heading to the middle of the ring and she's shedding another layer as she climbs over the freshold oh dear gods you don't know what to do. What to think. Holy fucking shit she's right there in a sports bra and baggy pants while wrapping her knuckles-- where did she get wrappings from?????

You're more than short circuiting at this point. You need a soft reboot. Maybe a full reboot at this rate since she's sliding off those tinted glasses and-- oh.

You see her eyes.

You've seen them before, of course. But not like this. Not with this intensity behind them. Like she's looking right through her opponent to predict every single movement his future self might consider making. That indomitable focus had you flushing with heat from head to toe as you watched, mouth parted, breaths quickening.

She floors a man twice her size and three times the bredth and your knees might give out. Are you swooning? You might just be fucking swooning holy fuck--

But then she gets gut punched and then tackled by a secret second opponent and you snap back into the whole situation.

You scream out encouragement to Mizu until your lungs feel dry, and then you scream some more. You want to be the loudest. You want Mizu to hear you and know you're rooting for her while she wipes the floor with these cheating bastards.

There's four of the fuckers now. Four all dressed in similar... you hesitate to call them uniforms. More like they all shopped at the same tec-wear store at the same time. But shit are they fast. You have the slightest moment of worry when you see the glint of metal fly past in one of their fists--

Mizu breaks thier arm with a sickening twist and a wet 'crack', and you think you might never have been so turned on in your entire fucking life.

(And also you might need to address and analyse some things about yourself later...)

The metal drops to the floor with an audible clang and a loud noise goes off somewhere. You're going to be honest, you're not really paying attention to anything else other than how Mizu moves around her opponents. Even outnumbered she holds her own, muscles coiled and yet her movements are smooth like flowing water. You can't help but think of the type that wears away cliffsides and cracks apart mountains, because that's what she's doing. She's fighting smart where they're fighting with force, and she is kicking their fucking asses--

Others converge on the ring, the crowd flooding in to hold them all down and you can't help but notice it takes five fully stacked men to hold Mizu down. And even then that only lasts about seven seconds before she breaks free, methodically picking them all off one by one before she launches herself into the now turbulent crowd.

That's when you panic, shouting for her while elbows and shoulders send you this way and that. You narrowly dodge a fist to the face before a hand grabs yours. You're ready to swing right back when you lock eyes with those sharp blues you so adore.

You both book it out, avoiding flailing limbs and thrown table legs. You've somehow still got Mizu's jacket in the crook of your arm when you both make it outside and keep running, only stopping when the sound of sirens was long, long off in the distance.

You're both curled over in a dark, dank alleyway, breaths haggard and coming out as clouds in the crisp night air.

You look up from your knees, ass pressed against the brick wall to support your wobbly legs, and you can't help but crack a grin when you see Mizu in a similar state, only just realising what the fuck just happened.

The grin breaks into a laugh when Mizu looks to you with a bright smile of her own, it's a wheezing thing at first, but then it becomes a full belly laugh when she joins you. And oh, is that such a rare sight. Mizu losing herself in a laugh and then looking at you with the most beautiful full face smile you've ever seen in your life.

Your giggles die in the face of that smile, replaced with a quiet awe and probably the dumbest looking lovesick stare--

Steps. Multiple steps approach the alley and Mizu's first and only instinct is to hide and protect you, pressing you back against the wall and covering your mouth with her hand, catching your yelp of surprise before it could really become an external sound.

And ohhhhh, what a predicament you find yourself in. Pinned to a wall by this very strong and capable and, evidentally, dangerous woman who took you out tonight to a place you would only dream of going to and protected you the entire time and then caused a room wide fight to break out that she was, up until that point, winning--

Ohhhh my phone is currently dying a death imma have to post and carry on later because my brain is a bastard that way 🙃

#modern mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #underground fighter mizu #I WROTE SOMETHING #HAHA! TAKE THAT BRAIN BLOCK!#HOPE YOU ENJOY #tw fighting #tw violence #but i mean #its bes #eitger way better safe than sorry #fem reader #ish

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chrisrin · 10 months

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dirk and rose fusion! inspired by @keeptwistingjunior's design of them.

#gemstuck #homestuck #hs #rose lalonde #dirk strider #chris doodles #they were VERY fun to draw!!!#the ballerina fighter vibe was SOOO fun #willow's initial concept was so brilliant and it was so fun working with #(also if i see anyone tagging this as shipping content you're being blocked on sight <3)

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alextwt-art · 9 months

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make sure not to fuck up your chain

#art #furry #illustration #bunny #rabbit #anthro #deer #dog #puzzle #block puzzle #arcade #magical drop #puyo #puyo puyo #puzzle bobble #bust a move #puzzle fighter

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shardikart-blog · 11 months

Photo

THEM

#street fighter #street figther 6 #sf6 #manon #marisa #manon x marisa #huge art block but gotta draw the girls

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sca-nerd · 3 months

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My Knight teaching me, "you should block that."

#mysca #society for creative anachronism #sca #heavy fighter #house de rath #sword and shield #you should block that

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nocternalrandomness · 5 months

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F-16C Block 25 #83-1131 assigned to 422d TES, Nellis AFB during a stop at Hill AFB, Utah

#F-16 #Viper #Block 25 #Fighter #Military #Air Force #aircraft #aviation #jet #airplane

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tillman · 6 months

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#well tripods a mermaid. ani is just a mermaid in name. sorry ani #animaen (oc)#tripod (oc)#diet dr pepper #im having a real fucking art block but im tryhing so hard to force myhself to draw. u know.#actually their mirrors to each other are unintentional but cute.#ani a big bulky fighter vs tripods sleek dance like fighting... ahh

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aqours · 3 months

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3E Ireena: Who are you? 5E Ireena: I'm you but weaker. 3E Ireena: 5E Ireena: 3E Ireena: Take me to the castle right now so I can kick his fucking undead ass right this instant.

#dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #dnd #d&d #curse of strahd #ireena kolyana #tatyana federovna #strahd von zarovich #expedition to castle ravenloft #as;dflajs;ags;lh FULL DISCLOSURE LISTEN. I LOVE HER. I LOVE 5E IREENA TOO OK #BUT IM READING THE 3E STAT BLOCK AND THE DIFFERENCES IN HER WRITING IN THIS VERSION AND. GODDAMN #on one hand: there's a TON of room to tweak her for DMs #you can make her a sidekick! you can make her a badass fighter OR you can keep her noble stat block and focus on using her creatively #in other ways socially. you can make ireena really cool without being a frontline badass or have her grow into the role over time #BUT ALSO i feel like 3e ireena has a much more defined and badass personality written into her #and actually gives her a reason to be rocking that badass armor and wanting to take an active stance against freeing herself from strahd #and storming the castle #it's just so... gaaaah #starposts

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laineystein · 3 months

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Just found out what happened at Memorial Sloan Kettering and I have to say that some people have serious brain rot to think it’s acceptable (or even reasonable/impactful?) to protest a hospital that is solely devoted to fighting cancer. Like, if that’s your stance and that makes sense to you, I pray for the swift return of your sanity and all of the brain cells that exited with it.

#can we just talk about how completely USELESS some of these protests are?#blocking busy roads only makes NYers hate you for inconveniencing them #protesting cancer hospitals makes you look like a depraved human #defacing property makes you a vandal…not a freedom fighter #the schmucket continues to grow in size

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ohnococo · 1 month

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Fight Night: Recovery | MMA!Fighter Sukuna x F!Reader

You return home in the early hours of the morning after your celebratory night out with Sukuna. You clean each other up, as promised, and things get steamy.

✧ Notes: Hello! I’m back with more of these two. If you haven’t read my series Fight Night, please do or Sukuna may seem unusually soft here. If you have, welcome back! Anything I post for this series will be less structured, just little moments in the lives of Sukuna and reader.

✧ Warnings: Fem bodied reader, implied drinking/partying, showering, very light body worship, bathing each other, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, explicit mention of old cum being cleaned

Fight Night Masterlist

You awaken to the feel of Sukuna’s arms sliding beneath you, lifting you from where he’d deposited you on his bed. He squeezes at your upper arms, encouraging you to hang onto him as he carries you to the bathroom. It’s a difficult task, with how your body feels as though it may as well be boneless at this point, but you manage.

“Took you long enough.”

“And how long did it take me?”

You don’t have to peel open your heavy lids to know he’s smirking, knowing full well you have no clue since you were out the second your body hit the bed. In lieu of the response he wasn’t really asking for, you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, keeping yourself pressed tightly to his bare chest before he sets you down onto the closed toilet. Once he has a hand wrapped around your ankle, you find it in you to open your eyes, if only to take in the sight of Sukuna kneeling in front of you as he pulls off your shoe and tosses it aside.

“Gentle, please.”

The look he gives you threatens to inspire something in your worn out body, brows raised as if his eyes alone were telling you off for daring to boss him around. It doesn’t stop him from removing the other shoe and setting it down slightly more gently, though.

He stands and begins unbuckling his belt, followed by undoing his trousers, and you finally notice that the sound of running water is coming from the shower instead of the bathtub as you’d been expecting.

“I thought you were going to run a bath.”

He shakes his head dismissively, pushing his trousers and boxer briefs down in one go and kicking them off, “I’m too tired for all of that.”

The corners of your mouth curl upward, like he’d admitted some well kept secret with that small statement. “So you do get tired.”

“Sometimes.” It’s said simply, a thin veil of a response over the reminder that he would always keep you on your toes when it came to these things.

You lift your arms, looking up at Sukuna through your lashes and doing a little expectant wiggle.

“I’ve got to do everything, hm?”

“You promised to clean me up.”

He tilts his head and lets out a little huff, “Fair enough.”

And that’s that, as he tugs the bottom of your dress up your thighs and over your ass. It’s a job made easy by how stretched out the thick blue fabric had become over the course of the night from all the times it had been hiked up to give Sukuna the access you rarely denied him. You decide to aid him slightly, undoing the buttons at the back of your neck before stretching your arms back into the air. He pulls it over your head and off, tossing it aside with the rest of the removed clothing. Getting you naked is quick work, given how the low back of the dress had left you unable to wear a bra in the first place, and your panties had been discarded before you’d even reached the halfway point of the night.

His arms settle back onto your waist, helping you lift yourself onto your feet, and they keep their place loosely - even as you turn and take heavy steps to the shower while he follows. You can tell from his hovering hands that he half-expects you to slip or stumble with how barely-coherent you’d been earlier, but you find the little nap you’d gotten on the way home and then on his bed was enough to give you somewhat of a second wind. Still, you enjoy having his hands so near, ready to keep you steady should you need it.

You settle yourself with your back to the spray of water, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face to his chest. “Wash my hair?”

He doesn’t answer outright, instead leaning down to grab something among the products that had accumulated in the corner of his shower over the last several weeks. Your head goes with his gentle movement, not wanting to leave its comfortable spot against his firm chest, and when he straightens with shampoo in hand he sets it on the higher tiled shelf with his own products so it’s within easy reach.

As he backs you further into the falling water, you don’t expect much, but Sukuna exceeds those expectations with how gentle he is as his fingers smooth over your hair. He dips his fingertips into the thick of it, shaking lightly to make sure it’s wet all the way through before he’s picking the bottle of shampoo up again.

Were you slightly more coherent, you’d notice how his motions mimic your own from the times the two of you had showered together since you began occupying more and more of his space. Times when Sukuna quietly enjoyed your proximity, washing off sweat formed from nights spent much more sober, and much less clothed than this one had been. Though now you were drinking and fucking and dancing your way through the city just like you once had, and it left you both with a much bigger mess to clean.

Once he’s got shampoo in your hair, followed by his fingertips at your scalp making firm circles, you lean your head back into his hands, letting him cradle your head as he works. You let out a small groan and his warm breath hits your face as you open your eyes and see the look he’s giving you.

“Don’t make noises like that if you don’t want to get fucked.”

You laugh, squeezing his waist tighter with your arms, “I’m too sore.”

“Hasn’t stopped us before.”

“And I’m tired. I thought you were too?”

He dips his head down, water hitting his own hair and making you close your eyes as it cascades off of him and onto your face. His nose brushes yours as his mouth hovers close, already open and waiting for you to do the same, and once your lips are parted he speaks low into your mouth, making you listen before you have his kiss.

“It’d take a lot more than a night out to have me too tired for that.”

It has you smiling as his lips meet yours and you taste remnants of the night on his tongue. It’s enough to have you questioning whether you could possibly handle his cock one more time, but that dull sting below as his kiss has you clenching reminds you that the two of you aren’t in nearly the rush you had been during your first times partying. So you pull back, pressing your forehead to his mouth when he tries to lean in for more, and he’s satisfied to place a final kiss there before he returns to washing your hair.

He takes more care than you had anticipated, even once you melt into him further, forehead resting on his chest as he does a surprisingly thorough job. Then he’s removing his fingertips, closing his large hands from your temples to the top of your head in a makeshift headband as he tilts you back into the spray. He runs them back over your head, effectively wringing out anything left with the help of the warm water. He repeats this again, until your head is bobbing and he gathers all of your hair into a sort of ponytail, squeezing lightly as he presses a kiss to your chin.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Despite the warning in his voice it just makes you chuckle, thoughts half-formed as his touch makes you feel more and less drunk at the same time. “I’m not gonna fall asleep standing, I’m not a horse.”

He lets out a little breath through his nose at that, but moves on otherwise with a hint of something to gnaw on in his voice, “Should I expect you to reciprocate?”

You laugh, leaning your head forward, pulling your hair out of his loosened grasp and returning your forehead to its now-familiar place against his chest. “Do you have a stepladder for that?”

He sighs, able to feign annoyance despite the apparent tiredness he’d mentioned earlier, the very tiredness you were still dubious of as you open your eyes and look down to see his heavy cock stirring with interest. “The rest of me, then.”

“That, I can manage.”

Despite your words you take your time moving from your comfortable spot, bracing yourself to be out of the reach of the warm water. Once you’re ready you tug at Sukuna’s waist, trying to move him into position, and he lets you - smile on his face at your attempts. The water only reaches his shoulders, travelling down in small streams that twist and wind along his muscle and drip off loudly to the tiles below.

You reach for his shelf and gather soap in your palm, lathering it up, and then letting it aid in slipping your hands across his neck and shoulders. With your mind set on not pushing your body too far, and on passing out as soon as possible, you try your very best to ignore the girth stirring in front of you. Sukuna knows very well what thoughts are going through your mind, and smiles as he finally releases you from his hungry gaze, busying himself with washing his own hair as you continue rubbing along his abs and down to his hips.

Your fingers work carefully through the thick hair at the base of his cock, well-dirtied with both your messes through the night, until the water rinses it clean. A glance up at him reveals him watching you again, this time with curiosity in his soft smile, to see if you’ll leave any of him ignored in an attempt to calm the beast hanging hard and heavy with water finding its own path off each of the silver beads along the underside of his cock. You slide your fingers around it entirely, working soap into the hair of his balls, delving into the space between his thighs as well. He chuckles above, drawing your eyes back up to him for a moment, then as you look back down at your task he closes his eyes and tilts his head back to rinse his hair out.

Even with his hair rinsed clean, he leaves his eyes closed and his head back, sighing when your hands slide around his hips and away from his cock as you lather up what you can reach of his back. You make your way lower, accompanied by soft suds, until you’re squeezing and rubbing at his ass.

Sukuna dips his head down to speak into your ear, sending droplets from his hair and onto your face. “I thought we were past you being frightened of it.”

“Oh, please.” You crane your neck back, separating your bodies enough for him to be sure to see the look you were giving him, squeezing his butt hard to emphasise that you were absolutely not afraid of any part of him. “I’m not scared of that thing.”

“This thing?” His smile widens enough that his eyes crinkle shut.

“Yeah.” Your smile back is as playful as you can manage with you using the last of your focus to wash him, and you offer his ass a little spank and spread his cheeks lightly as you squeeze again, a move similar to one he’d done to you many times before. “That thing.”

He closes that small distance again, tracing his tongue along the shell of your ear before whispering, “It won’t hurt you.”

“It already has.”

He leans back, a small hint of a question in his eyes that you don’t need him to ask.

“But not in a way I can’t handle.”

“Of course.” He turns around then, rinsing remnants of soap off before cleaning his cock himself while you busy yourself with washing his back more thoroughly, then his legs.

You half expect him to keep stroking himself as you bend down, rubbing at his thick muscled thighs, but he releases himself and settles his hands at his sides, stretching his neck out and enjoying the feel of your hands on him.

When you stand he’s sighing as though he’d managed to get some rest in that time, turning back to you.

“I suppose it’s your turn then?”

He brings you back under the shower head, turning you around to face the spray head on and settling his hands on your hips as he speaks low into your ear. “You’ll have to handle washing your face. I don’t think I’m quite delicate enough for that.”

You lean back against his chest, sighing at the sound of his voice in your ear. “Ryomen The King Sukuna, underestimating himself? What have I done to you?”

“What have you done, indeed.” He presses his hips forward, letting you feel his hardness against your ass, though your attention is quickly drawn to the face wash he reaches around you to place in your hand.

You take it, squeezing it into your hand and busying yourself with removing what remains of your makeup as Sukuna runs his hands over your body, lathering you up. He makes no attempt to hide how he squeezes and gropes at every part of you that he touches, quite clearly feeling you up even as he cleans the sweat and cum and sticky residue of spilled drinks off of your naked body. He catches your nipples between thick knuckles, grips at your hips and stomach, presses kisses and gentle bites down your back and to your ass as he kneels to wash your legs, only incidentally cleaning you as he indulges himself before standing to finish his work.

With your face cleaned, you lie your head back onto his chest, enjoying this feel of his hands as he rinses you clean. Once he’s kneading at your thighs, slowly making his way closer and closer to your pussy, you can practically feel his gaze down at you. You know too well that he’s waiting for the smallest word or reaction to tell him to make his touch much more targeted - as if he hadn’t been working you up from the moment you’d stepped into the shower.

His fingers finally closing in to run over your pussy send a shudder through you, and when he brings a splash of water up to aid in cleaning your sticky folds you let out a laugh, head lolling against his chest. “Now you get to see how annoying it is to clean all of that cum out of me.”

His other arm comes down to hook under your knee, lifting your leg and keeping you spread for him to dip his fingers into your entrance as you melt into his embrace.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult.” He wriggles his fingers inside of you, chuckling as you gasp, “I can go much deeper than you.”

He’s right, pulling his long fingers out and rinsing them under the water before he’s sliding them back into your depths, loosening and coaxing out any cum that hadn’t made its way down your thighs through the night. He cleans you out thoroughly but, just as expected, doesn’t stop there - movements becoming a little faster and finding their rhythm until your pussy is making sticky sounds loud enough to be heard over the spray of the shower.

You reach back to tangle a hand into his hair as he starts kissing lightly along your neck, laughing when you start rocking your hips into the gentle thrusts of his fingers.

“What was that about being too sore?”

He laughs at whatever combination of a huff and a moan that you let out, and tenses enough to have his cock prodding at your ass in a reminder that he was never quite done. This time your huff is more pronounced, giving him a taste of the internal debate you were having between how much you wanted and how much you could handle, until you’re left compromising with your own body.

“Just the tip.”

The laugh this draws from him is much more lively. “Just the tip?”

“I mean it, Sukuna.”

“If that’s what you want…”

He pulls his fingers from your pussy, letting your leg down and turning you to face him before he’s lifting it again and settling it against his hip. He traps it in place with one arm as he reaches down to line himself up, wrapping the other arm around you to help you stay up even with as tired as your body was.

Even with just the promised hint of length from him, you feel that sting, but once he’s sliding that fat tip against your spongy walls the pleasure overcomes the pain. You press your face to his chest, squeezing at his pecs and kissing the wet skin as he groans above you.

The way he’s crouched to line up your disparate heights has his muscles tensing and flexing and as he angles himself perfectly you have to concentrate hard to enjoy the view of him instead of letting your eyes roll back with the heat prickling right down to your curling toes.

You tilt your head up until your lips meet his and his breath is hot in your mouth, words mingling with your soft moans, “Just the tip?”

You can’t blame him for pressing, with the way your pussy was practically sucking at his tip as you clench and squirm on it. Still, you know your limits, including which ones you are and aren’t willing to push past, so you nod and he pulls your arms from around his body to guide your hands to his ignored length. You wrap your hands around it, giving him something more to fuck into as your heat takes him in again and again. It earns you a string of appreciative moans that you return enthusiastically, licking into his mouth to have more of what you can from him.

“Fuck, Sukuna…” You pull back to press your head to his chest, eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips into his careful movements. You loosen your grip on his length, taking just a little bit more of him in as your thighs tense and shake.

With his hands too busy holding you up, he has to nuzzle at the top of your head to get your attention, insisting that he get to watch you cum on his cock. You know that it’s what he needs, tilting your head back and locking eyes with him as he brings his mouth to yours, drinking in your moans and meeting them with low groans as he waits for that telltale clenching on his tip.

He isn’t waiting long as you let go of his cock, crying out into his mouth as you grip at his ass and pull him all the way into your heat, until your hips are flush against his. It takes him by surprise and flings him towards his end, as he lets out a broken moan, pressing deep into you as your pussy clenches and milks his cock of all he has left to give. He stills his hips as you rock against him, riding out the last of your orgasm in his arms, until his cum is sliding out around him and spattering onto the tile below while he kisses at your slackened jaw.

Your arms find their way back around his torso as you pull yourself to his chest yet again, panting against his wet skin as you shudder softly. He pulls out slowly, letting your leg down but keeping your tired body held firmly to him.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Hm?” He cranes his neck to look at your face, pressed so closely to him that only half of it is left visible, “You’ve got a new mess to clean now.”

“Nuh uh… tomorrow…”

While he’s technically right, and while it technically already is tomorrow, your orgasm has taken everything you had left and you know you’re veering ever so close to actually passing out if you don’t lie down soon.

Sukuna doesn’t need convincing to have his cum left inside of you, though, and he reaches behind you to turn off the shower. You feel yourself drifting off already as he wraps a towel around you, and you’re out completely once he lifts you up and carries you to bed.

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #mma!sukuna #mma fighter!sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #x reader #reader insert #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #my writing

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