bea

18 inbox is open! D1 choso and kirara glazer

[bellalalie]

.ೀ hello hello and welcome welcome!! ✧˚ ༘ 𝜗ৎ ⋆｡˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ bea *ੈ✩‧₊˚ she/her *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 18 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ infj *ੈ✩‧₊˚ music nerd *ੈ✩‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡ ⊹ abt meᰔ m.listᰔ rulesᰔ reqs (ahh!!!)ᰔ taglist (dm me to be added!)ᰔ ⊹♡⊹˚₊

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

credits! stars: @cafekitsune, pink lace: @angeliicide, piano keys: @suupersonic, white lace @uzmacchiato

[t0jisbunny]

satoru talks you through it over the phone whilst he’s away on business ♡

“i miss you, ‘toru. can’t you come home quicker? teleport over right now or something?” you sigh needily, satoru’s king-sized bed feeling far too empty without him in it.

he’d been away on a business for a few days, calling you each evening to check in. “one more night, then i’ll be all yours” he chuckles softly from the other end of the phone, sprawled out across his hotel bed.

the call goes silent for a moment, only the muffled sound of sheets rustling and gentle breathing to be heard. a smirk grows on his face, “...you need me, don’t you?”

god, he knows you so well.

“mhm...” you respond, toying with them hem of your panties, your boyfriends’ low, honeyed voice making your pussy ache with need. you hated when he was away from you, especially when you needed him like this- it could only be described as torture. you were almost mad he wasn’t here to fuck you stupid.

“you’re in bed, yeah?” he asks, phone resting on his chest, both hands wedged behind his head comfortably.

“yeah, alone” you huff, squeezing your legs together to gain some relief. “my poor baby, let me help” he demands, “take off your panties, princess.”

you bite your lip gently, doing as he instructed, placing your phone aside and removing the soaked fabric, placing them aside- “done,” you reply. “good girl, now bring your hand down to your pussy. i know you’re already wet, so gather some of it on your fingers and rub that pretty lil’ clit for me.”

“...okay” you oblige, parting your folds, getting your clit niiceee and wet before rubbing it in gentle, clockwise circles. you sigh in relief at the much-needed friction, awaiting further instruction.

“thaaatt’s it, rub nice slow circles on it, just like i do. pretend it’s my fingers” satoru purrs. you could picture his cocky grin on the other end, the thought of you getting off to his voice alone only feeding his already gigantic ego.

“feels good, yeah?” he adds, closing his eyes and picturing you touching yourself so sweetly over him — wishing he was there to do it himself.

“yeah, mph — feels s’good” you whisper, spreading your legs wider, listening eagerly to his voice, your favourite sound in the entire world. “now rub your clit just a little faster, make yourself feel good, doing soooo well for me” he praises softly, toying with his blindfold with those long, lithe fingers that you so badly wish were inside of you.

“just focus on my voice, baby.”

and you do. your sighs of pleasure become louder, gentle moans beginning to slip past your lips, slick coating your fingers as it seeps out of your needy hole — desperate to be filled.

“bring your phone closer, lemme hear those sweet sounds,” he demands, thick cock beginning to twitch in his pants. but besides, tonight was about you. he knew waiting until he got home would make your reunion that much better anyway, saving every drop of his cum just for you.

“mnnghh, toru’ — fuck-” you whine, embarrassingly close already, each word spurring you on. “always sound so pretty, so close already,” he encourages, “now rub it even faster, side to side” he instructs further, needy moans pouring out of you.

“ah! m’so close, mph-” you babble, head thrown back against the plush pillows, orgasm approaching faster than anticipated.

“cmon baby, almost there now, keep touching that pretty pussy. gonna fuck you so good when i get home.” the sheer thought has your thighs twitching, pleasure overtaking your body, “ahhh! m’cumming—” you cry out sharply.

“fuck, yeah, moan my name sweetheart, such a good girl.”

once he’s satisfied you’re through it, listening to your rapid breathing, he talks you down sweetly, smothering you with gentle praise as your body begins to relax against the sheets. “one more instruction now, get some sleep” he says, long day also catching up to him.

“mm, okay. love you” you mumble sleepily, curling up on satoru’s side of the bed, his scent still lingering on the pillows.

“love you too, princess.”

a/n; let’s all collectively pretend this isn’t a repost ok…

[bellalalie]

ho lee sheet

[sukunaglazerrr]

HusbandKuna x Reader who lost her memory

After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.

Everything was so much weird.

When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.

You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.

But the real shock came twenty minutes later.

The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

So you were married.

"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty two. You're thirty" Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)

[bellalalie]

🥹🥹

[meli555]

olderbf!kento doesnt understand brainrot (unc alert) (slightly suggestive)

your boyfriend kento’s patience is something that can’t be easily overcome. even when you open your mouth to spew nonsense collected from your doomscrolling sessions.

really, he should be used to it by now — and part of him is — but he sometimes finds himself in a state of utter confusion when you… speak?

it’s always unexpected, too.

you both are standing in the kitchen, kento pestering you about drinking more water.

“honey, please, i don’t want you to be dehydrated” he mutters, pouring you a glass.

“son im crine.”

…

“excuse me?”

that’s a pretty tame example, though.

you both are walking down the stairs, and your darling boyfriend accidentally trips a little.

you sigh, “so much aura loss.”

he blankly stares at you, watching as you continue to walk down the stairs without a second thought.

“i nearly fell.”

“period, king.”

he’s trying to have a normal conversation with you.

“are you hungry, my love?”

“lowkenuienlly.”

he just sighs and says: “im not sure what that means.”

but what really threw him off is when you were texting.

it was innocent, at first, you missed kento while he was at work! so, you asked for a selfie of your pretty lover.

“can u send a pic i miss u so muchhhhh.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

instead of responding normally to his very cute picture, you say:

“GIVE ME THAT DICK😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭IM FUCKING HORNYYYY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I MEAN HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYY😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭GET ME MY FUCKING PLATEEEE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭”

you can only imagine the disturbed look on his face when he reads your text, how amusing it must be.

ten minutes pass before he finally responds:

“I regret texting you during a meeting.”

nonetheless, he tries to adapt to your strange lingo!

“you look cooked.” he says playfully, meaning to compliment you.

“excuse me? you think i look cooked?” you gasp, shaking your head in disbelief.

“what, isn’t that a good thing? you said earlier you "cooked" with your makeup—“ he tries to defend his case, genuinely confused.

“no, ken, you don’t say i LOOK cooked you could say—“

you sigh, shaking your head again at your seemingly defeated boyfriend.

“just forget it.”

you walk away, mumbling under your breath:

“unc.”

don’t worry, kento will get it eventually… hopefully…

FOLLOW POOKIE: @bellalalie

[toruuholic]

emo bf!choso taking care of his sleepy girl ᶻ𝗓 𐰁

゛⸝⸝ ⋆ req ; fluff , suggestive , lots of kissies

the dorm hallway is quiet except for the muffled thump of bass from someone’s room down the hall. choso pushes the door open with his shoulder, the beginnings of the rain outside still clinging to the shoulders of his black hoodie, earbuds dangling around his neck. his hair is damp from the drops melting into the dark strands, and he smells faintly like cold air and the smoke that lingers around the skatepark he was just at.

he expects the room to be empty when he clicks the light on.

instead he finds you sprawled across his bed.

you’re still in your party outfit, a tiny shiny dress riding up your thighs, makeup a little smudged from dancing and laughing and probably one too many fruity drinks with your friends. one arm is flung over your head, the other curled against your chest, lips parted in soft, even breaths. the position couldn’t have been very comfortable, since every few breaths you left out a small snore. your shoes are kicked off haphazardly by the door— well, shoe. one brave heel still dangles from one foot.

choso stands there for a second, keys still in his hand, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always does when he sees you like this: soft and trusting and completely at home in his space.

snapping out of his daze, he turns the light off again and sets his bag and skateboard down quietly before toeing off his boots. the room is warm, heater humming low, and the fairy lights you strung up last month still on, casting a gentle glow over the many posters pasted on his wall, including a collection of photobooth pictures of you two he keeps on the wall in front of his desk.

“baby…” he whispers, even though you’re clearly out cold.

he shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him in a plain black tee that hugs his shoulders, then pads over to the bed. you don’t stir when he sits on the edge, the mattress dipping under his weight. he brushes a strand of hair off your forehead, thumb lingering on your temple.

you make a tiny sleepy sound and turn your face into his palm like a kitten. his chest tightens with the sudden urge to squeeze your cheeks, but decides against it to avoid waking you.

he knows you had a girls’ night. you texted him blurry selfies earlier, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, promising you’d come straight here after because his bed is comfier and smells like him. he didn’t expect you to pass out quite this hard, but he’s not complaining.

in need of some light to see what he’s doing, he turns on the lamp on his nightstand. dim enough to grant him some vision without lighting up the entire room and potentially disturbing you. carefully, so carefully, he slides his hands under your back and lifts you just enough to work the zipper of your dress down.

the fabric whispers as he peels it off your shoulders, revealing soft skin and the lacy edges of your bra. he doesn’t linger nor let his eyes wander too much even though his cheeks heat up.

he grabs one of the silly graphic tees from the drawer, the one he knows is your favorite because you bought it as a gag gift but ended up stealing it at least once a week. it’s soft from so many washes, the collar a little stretched.

“alright, pretty girl,” he murmurs under his breath, just in case you were listening from somewhere in dreamland. “let’s get you comfy.”

you’re still completely asleep, but your body listens to him like it knows exactly who’s taking care of you. when he gently lifts your arms, they raise without resistance. when he tugs the dress down your hips, your legs shift helpfully, knees bending just enough for him to slide the fabric off. he slips his shirt over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves one at a time. the hem falls to mid-thigh on you, swallowing you up.

he smooths it down with reverent hands, making sure it covers you properly.

then he figures he should take care of your makeup too.

he knows exactly where you keep the little pack of makeup wipes in his nightstand drawer, right beside the spare hair ties and the lychee lip balm you always forget. he pulls one out and unfolds it slowly, the wipes oddly cool to the touch.

choso kneels beside the bed so he’s at eye level, and starts with your eyes, dabbing so gently there’s barely pressure at all. the liner and sparkly shadow come away in soft streaks. you scrunch your nose once, a tiny sleepy protest, but then relax again, lips parting on a sigh.

“shhh, keep sleepin’,” he whispers, voice barely there. “just cleaning you up so you don’t wake up and complain about more breakouts tomorrow.”

he wipes your cheeks next, the blush you apply very generously melting away with a few passes of the cleanser. then your forehead, your chin, the corners of your mouth where lipstick has bled a little from all the drinks and laughter. every stroke is slow and loving, like he’s memorizing the shape of your face all over again. if you were to wake up, you may have laughed at how cautiously he’s doing it, holding the wipes a little awkwardly with just his fingertips.

but you stay perfectly compliant the whole time. when he tilts your head gently to get the other side, you nuzzle into his hand. when he lifts your chin to clean under your jaw, your neck arches trustingly. it makes something protective and achingly soft bloom in his chest all over again.

he folds the wipe and uses a fresh one for a last once-over, ending with your lips, brushing away the last of the color until they look soft and bare and kissable. he can’t resist pressing the lightest kiss to your forehead when he’s done.

you hum happily in your sleep and choso smiles, small and private, the kind he only lets out when no one’s watching.

he pulls the blanket up over you, tucking it around your shoulders, then stands. figuring he should at least get the lingering rain off him, he decides to take a quick shower. a record breaking 5 minutes later, he’s back out in sweatpants and a loose clean shirt and youre still knocked out.

he turns off the lamp with a fond smile, leaving only the fairy lights glowing soft pink and gold, and climbs into bed behind you, careful not to jostle too much. you immediately gravitate toward his warmth, scooting back until your back is pressed to his chest, fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

he wraps one arm around your waist, hand splaying over your tummy under his shirt, thumb stroking lazy circles. his face buries in your hair, breathing you in: the sweetest perfume, a hint of fruity cocktail, and underneath it all, just you.

“missed you tonight,” he murmurs against the back of your neck, even though you can’t hear him. “but i’m glad you had fun.”

the rain taps softly against the window, a steady rhythm that lulls him deeper into calm. he listens to your even breathing, feels the rise and fall of your chest under his palm, and lets himself drift.

morning comes slow and golden, weak april sunlight filtering through the blinds in pale stripes. choso wakes first, as usual, blinking awake to the feeling of you still curled against him. you’ve turned towards him at some point and his shirt has ridden up a little during the night, exposing a strip of soft skin at your waist. your hair is adorably mussed, face relaxed and bare from last night’s careful cleaning.

he stays still for a long moment, just watching you. the way your lashes rest against your cheeks. the tiny pout of your lips. how completely at peace you look in his bed. he considers reaching for his phone to take a quick picture.

then you stir.

a soft little stretch, a sleepy hum, and your eyes flutter open. they find his immediately, hazy and warm.

“morning…” you mumble, voice all raspy and cute.

“morning, party girl,” he answers with a chuckle, voice low and fond. he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips, slow and sweet.

you sigh into it, hand coming up to fiddle with the neckline of his shirt.

“how’d i get in this?” you ask, glancing down at the familiar black fabric with a sleepy smile.

“you were out cold when i got back,” he says, brushing hair behind your ear, hand resting against your cheek after. “didn’t want you sleeping in that dress, so i changed you nice and careful. wiped your makeup off too. you stayed so good for me even asleep..”

your cheeks go warm against his palm, eyes all sparkly like they hold the universe. “you did all that?”

he hums, thumb tracing your jaw. “duh. couldn’t let my girl wake up uncomfortable.”

you make the cutest little sound and bury your face in his neck, pressing sleepy kisses there.

“love you so much, cho. thank you.”

he wraps both arms around you, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. his leg slots between yours naturally, but there’s no urgency yet. just closeness. warmth. the quiet intimacy of the morning after a night he took care of you without you even knowing.

“love you more,” he murmurs into your hair. “how’s your head? any headache from the drinks?”

you shake your head, nuzzling deeper. “barely. you’re the best medicine.”

“cornball,” he grimaces, but he’s not very good at pretending he isn’t absolutely charmed by anything you say or do, so a chuckle follows, the sound rumbling through his chest. his hand slips under the hem of the shirt again, palm flat against your back, stroking up and down in long, soothing lines.

the two of you stay like that for a while, trading lazy kisses and quiet words. he tells you about the band practice he had last night, how the new song is coming together, then how he landed that new trick in his skateboard he’s been practicing. you tell him snippets of your night: the silly dances, the lack of satisfying food.

every once in a while he kisses you deeper, tongue brushing yours slow and sweet, but he keeps it gentle, too tired and lazy to do anything more right now. his hands wander under the shirt, mapping warm skin, but they never push.

when the kisses start to linger a little longer, when your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips shift against his thigh with a tiny, needy sound, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

eyes dark, but still so soft.

“we’ve got all day,” he whispers, voice a little rougher now. “no rush, yeah? let me take care of you properly this morning too.”

you nod, smiling all shy and happy, and pull him back down for another kiss.

wish i had a free bag of chiiipsuhhh gimme that boy pls

i hope this satisfied ur request anonnieee >_<

this is a req but also a tiny bit self indulgent bc i did fall asleep with my makeup on the other day and it did get all over my pillow rip my fire lip combo

[bellalalie]

choso does your daughter's hair like his

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy papa!choso pt. 2! read pt. 1 here

the whole family was up and getting ready for the day. luckily, no one was running late this time. your little girl toddled her way up and over each stair to reach you and choso's bedroom, red leather backpack dragging behind and bumping each step- her prized badtz-maru plush keychain jangling as she goes up. she wordlessly entered your shared room, looking around to find no one in bed. she frowned and made her way to your bathroom. knock knock... choso's hands are frozen to his cheeks, hair back in a headband while he was in the middle of applying cream, and you, brushing your teeth. you two exchange glances and finally walk over to push open the ajar door. your head moves downward as your gaze lands on a half-awake four-year old, backpack strap in hand, with squinted eyes. without a word, the little girl lets go of her bag and walks into the cramped bathroom. she walks past you two without a care, mumbling a soft 'g'morning,' and clambers onto the closed toilet seat. she sat there quietly, yet expectantly.

"morning, sweetness. did you sleep okay?" choso asks as he continues his facial routine. "mhm." she answers plainly, her legs hanging and swaying off the seat. "is your backpack ready for today? are you dressed?" you asked from your bedroom as you fixed your work bag. "yes, mama."

she observes her parents as they continue with their morning routine. you come back into the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day and spot her sleepy, radiating confidence. you ruffled her hair and chuckled softly, before turning to choso and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'm going to head out now. don't forget to make her lunch, cho. sweetness, i made you onigiri for breakfast. your favorite." you lean down to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. the little girl beams and says thank you. .

.

.

a few minutes pass after you leave and choso's almost ready to leave. all he has to do it fix his hair.

he's standing in front of the mirror, parting his hair into two even groups, one hair tie on his right wrist, the other perfectly perched between his lips. he raises both hands, tying up the right side first with practiced ease. little did he know, he had a little observer.

"papa can you do my hair, please?" she suddenly inquires. he turns his head slightly and raises a brow, smiling. "of course, papa's almost done." he said, voice muffled a bit, given the hair tie between his lips. "okay..." a minute passes and choso moves over to the toilet, bending down to pick up your daughter, secure in his big arms, and brings her over to the bed. she voluntarily plops onto the bed and sits facing away from him, readying herself to be glamorized! "sweets, how do you want your hair? in a ponytail, buns, or pigtails?" he asks mindlessly as he brushes through her mane of hair. "like papa's." oh. oh my god. "is that what you want, sweets? to look like papa?" "mhm! yup. i wanna look just like him. i'm gonna close my eyes so it's a surprise, papa." "oh...okay then....!" he chuckles breathlessly. oh how he was trying so hard not to be emotional. the signature pout of his creeping onto his face. his movements were languid and precise, taking extra care in order to not pull on her hair too hard. he made his best attempt to make her hair look a a tad bit spiky, just like his. soon after, choso turned her around and took out two little tendrils of hair to frame her face.

don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry

he took a deep breath and walked over to your vanity and brought over the handheld mirror. he gently placed it into your daughter's tiny hand. "you may look now." he spoke in his steadiest voice. she opened her eyes, her pupils dilating by one hundred. "i look just like you! i feel so pretty, papa!!" she exclaimed, all bright and cheery. choso pouted and nodded quickly. "you are pretty, sweets. you're your mama's girl."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n:

him fr 😛

hope u all liked pt 2!! i love love LOVE the idea of choso being a stay at home dad it just makes sense to me idk...also guys im making a taglist so let me know if u want to be added!!!!!!!! my inbox is open for reqs and any feedback! lets be mooties!! 🫶

follow @meli555 and read her latest fic. now.

divider: @cursed-carmine

[bellalalie]

choso does your daughter's hair like his

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy papa!choso pt. 2! read pt. 1 here

the whole family was up and getting ready for the day. luckily, no one was running late this time. your little girl toddled her way up and over each stair to reach you and choso's bedroom, red leather backpack dragging behind and bumping each step- her prized badtz-maru plush keychain jangling as she goes up. she wordlessly entered your shared room, looking around to find no one in bed. she frowned and made her way to your bathroom. knock knock... choso's hands are frozen to his cheeks, hair back in a headband while he was in the middle of applying cream, and you, brushing your teeth. you two exchange glances and finally walk over to push open the ajar door. your head moves downward as your gaze lands on a half-awake four-year old, backpack strap in hand, with squinted eyes. without a word, the little girl lets go of her bag and walks into the cramped bathroom. she walks past you two without a care, mumbling a soft 'g'morning,' and clambers onto the closed toilet seat. she sat there quietly, yet expectantly.

"morning, sweetness. did you sleep okay?" choso asks as he continues his facial routine. "mhm." she answers plainly, her legs hanging and swaying off the seat. "is your backpack ready for today? are you dressed?" you asked from your bedroom as you fixed your work bag. "yes, mama."

she observes her parents as they continue with their morning routine. you come back into the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day and spot her sleepy, radiating confidence. you ruffled her hair and chuckled softly, before turning to choso and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'm going to head out now. don't forget to make her lunch, cho. sweetness, i made you onigiri for breakfast. your favorite." you lean down to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. the little girl beams and says thank you. .

.

.

a few minutes pass after you leave and choso's almost ready to leave. all he has to do it fix his hair.

he's standing in front of the mirror, parting his hair into two even groups, one hair tie on his right wrist, the other perfectly perched between his lips. he raises both hands, tying up the right side first with practiced ease. little did he know, he had a little observer.

"papa can you do my hair, please?" she suddenly inquires. he turns his head slightly and raises a brow, smiling. "of course, papa's almost done." he said, voice muffled a bit, given the hair tie between his lips. "okay..." a minute passes and choso moves over to the toilet, bending down to pick up your daughter, secure in his big arms, and brings her over to the bed. she voluntarily plops onto the bed and sits facing away from him, readying herself to be glamorized! "sweets, how do you want your hair? in a ponytail, buns, or pigtails?" he asks mindlessly as he brushes through her mane of hair. "like papa's." oh. oh my god. "is that what you want, sweets? to look like papa?" "mhm! yup. i wanna look just like him. i'm gonna close my eyes so it's a surprise, papa." "oh...okay then....!" he chuckles breathlessly. oh how he was trying so hard not to be emotional. the signature pout of his creeping onto his face. his movements were languid and precise, taking extra care in order to not pull on her hair too hard. he made his best attempt to make her hair look a a tad bit spiky, just like his. soon after, choso turned her around and took out two little tendrils of hair to frame her face.

don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry

he took a deep breath and walked over to your vanity and brought over the handheld mirror. he gently placed it into your daughter's tiny hand. "you may look now." he spoke in his steadiest voice. she opened her eyes, her pupils dilating by one hundred. "i look just like you! i feel so pretty, papa!!" she exclaimed, all bright and cheery. choso pouted and nodded quickly. "you are pretty, sweets. you're your mama's girl."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n:

him fr 😛

hope u all liked pt 2!! i love love LOVE the idea of choso being a stay at home dad it just makes sense to me idk...also guys im making a taglist so let me know if u want to be added!!!!!!!! my inbox is open for reqs and any feedback! lets be mooties!! 🫶

follow @meli555 and read her latest fic. now.

divider: @cursed-carmine

[bellalalie]

choso does your daughter's hair like his

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy papa!choso pt. 2! read pt. 1 here

the whole family was up and getting ready for the day. luckily, no one was running late this time. your little girl toddled her way up and over each stair to reach you and choso's bedroom, red leather backpack dragging behind and bumping each step- her prized badtz-maru plush keychain jangling as she goes up. she wordlessly entered your shared room, looking around to find no one in bed. she frowned and made her way to your bathroom. knock knock... choso's hands are frozen to his cheeks, hair back in a headband while he was in the middle of applying cream, and you, brushing your teeth. you two exchange glances and finally walk over to push open the ajar door. your head moves downward as your gaze lands on a half-awake four-year old, backpack strap in hand, with squinted eyes. without a word, the little girl lets go of her bag and walks into the cramped bathroom. she walks past you two without a care, mumbling a soft 'g'morning,' and clambers onto the closed toilet seat. she sat there quietly, yet expectantly.

"morning, sweetness. did you sleep okay?" choso asks as he continues his facial routine. "mhm." she answers plainly, her legs hanging and swaying off the seat. "is your backpack ready for today? are you dressed?" you asked from your bedroom as you fixed your work bag. "yes, mama."

she observes her parents as they continue with their morning routine. you come back into the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day and spot her sleepy, radiating confidence. you ruffled her hair and chuckled softly, before turning to choso and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'm going to head out now. don't forget to make her lunch, cho. sweetness, i made you onigiri for breakfast. your favorite." you lean down to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. the little girl beams and says thank you. .

.

.

a few minutes pass after you leave and choso's almost ready to leave. all he has to do it fix his hair.

he's standing in front of the mirror, parting his hair into two even groups, one hair tie on his right wrist, the other perfectly perched between his lips. he raises both hands, tying up the right side first with practiced ease. little did he know, he had a little observer.

"papa can you do my hair, please?" she suddenly inquires. he turns his head slightly and raises a brow, smiling. "of course, papa's almost done." he said, voice muffled a bit, given the hair tie between his lips. "okay..." a minute passes and choso moves over to the toilet, bending down to pick up your daughter, secure in his big arms, and brings her over to the bed. she voluntarily plops onto the bed and sits facing away from him, readying herself to be glamorized! "sweets, how do you want your hair? in a ponytail, buns, or pigtails?" he asks mindlessly as he brushes through her mane of hair. "like papa's." oh. oh my god. "is that what you want, sweets? to look like papa?" "mhm! yup. i wanna look just like him. i'm gonna close my eyes so it's a surprise, papa." "oh...okay then....!" he chuckles breathlessly. oh how he was trying so hard not to be emotional. the signature pout of his creeping onto his face. his movements were languid and precise, taking extra care in order to not pull on her hair too hard. he made his best attempt to make her hair look a a tad bit spiky, just like his. soon after, choso turned her around and took out two little tendrils of hair to frame her face.

don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry

he took a deep breath and walked over to your vanity and brought over the handheld mirror. he gently placed it into your daughter's tiny hand. "you may look now." he spoke in his steadiest voice. she opened her eyes, her pupils dilating by one hundred. "i look just like you! i feel so pretty, papa!!" she exclaimed, all bright and cheery. choso pouted and nodded quickly. "you are pretty, sweets. you're your mama's girl."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n:

him fr 😛

hope u all liked pt 2!! i love love LOVE the idea of choso being a stay at home dad it just makes sense to me idk...also guys im making a taglist so let me know if u want to be added!!!!!!!! my inbox is open for reqs and any feedback! lets be mooties!! 🫶

follow @meli555 and read her latest fic. now.

divider: @cursed-carmine

[meli555]

overstimulated with tasks? (sukuna x reader fluff!)

you are extremely stressed. hell, thats an understatement.

you had been running around all day, trying to finish your seemingly never-ending to-do list.

and now you’re home. home and overwhelmed.

the heat is up too high, the bedroom is a mess, the couch is for some reason uncomfortable today, and you need to wash your hair.

you sigh, this long day will come to an end soon, right?

but then it happened.

your last straw, your 13th reason.

in an attempt to calm down, you pour yourself a glass of water. you chug it, sighing with satisfaction as you begin to set it down. but then—

CRASH!!!

the glass fell right out of your hands, glass shattering all over the floor.

you stared at the clear shards and the little bit of leftover water on the floor for approximately 3 seconds before bursting into tears.

from the other room, your boyfriend Sukuna heard the commotion. “hey baby is everything—”

he stops in his tracks, dumbfounded by the sight of you sobbing over what— a broken glass?

“whaddya do, break a glass? why are you crying?”

gosh, does he have to be so insensitive right now?!

you sniffle, choking on words, “I’m— I’m—”

“you’re what? It’s not a big deal. come on, dummy, let me clean it up.”

you gasp with all your might to finally say: “IM OVERSTIMULATED!!!!”

a pause, the only sounds in the room being the dishwasher and your whimpers.

“overstimulated?” he repeats, the tone in his voice indicating that he’s amused.

you hiccup in response, hiding your flushed face in your hands. despite your closed eyes, you can hear the smugness in his voice. this frickin jerk.

“isn’t that what happens when I leave my dick in after you—”

“SUKUNA!”

…

oh shit. you’re serious.

before you can yell at him again, big arms are being wrapped around you and a kiss is planted on the top of your head: “i'm sorry i'm an asshole, and i'm sorry you’re overwhelmed.”

you sniffle, tears still running down your pink cheeks.

your annoying (but loving) boyfriend then says: “go lie down. i’ll take care of everything.”

so you do, breathing evening out as you rest under the soft blankets and lay your head on the cool pillow.

after a bit, he settles next to you on the bed. he pulls you close, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“you hurt yourself when the glass broke?”

“no.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

he nods, his big hands never stopping their gentle touch on your back.

“gonna tell me what’s going on now? what’s got you so stressed?”

“just… a lot of stuff to do.”

he pulls you closer, the hand on your back moving up to rub your shoulders.

“don’t be so reluctant to ask for help.”

“i'm not—”

“yes you are.”

he’s right. you absolutely are. consistently suffering in silence until you break.

“fine. can you help me? i have to write a few emails, and other stuff.”

he hums, nodding again, “you’re not doing anything else today. i’ll take care of everything.”

you look up, eyes still glassy, nose still red.

“are you sure?”

he tilts his head, taking in your sad but cute expression.

“yes i’m sure.

and you better share that to-do list with me next time.”

with that, you watch him clean up what needs to be cleaned, write those emails, and schedule the appointments that need to be scheduled.

maybe there really is no shame in asking for help.

FOLLOW @bellalalie !!!!! SHES AWESOME SAUCE

[bellalalie]

choso does your daughter's hair like his

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy papa!choso pt. 2! read pt. 1 here

the whole family was up and getting ready for the day. luckily, no one was running late this time. your little girl toddled her way up and over each stair to reach you and choso's bedroom, red leather backpack dragging behind and bumping each step- her prized badtz-maru plush keychain jangling as she goes up. she wordlessly entered your shared room, looking around to find no one in bed. she frowned and made her way to your bathroom. knock knock... choso's hands are frozen to his cheeks, hair back in a headband while he was in the middle of applying cream, and you, brushing your teeth. you two exchange glances and finally walk over to push open the ajar door. your head moves downward as your gaze lands on a half-awake four-year old, backpack strap in hand, with squinted eyes. without a word, the little girl lets go of her bag and walks into the cramped bathroom. she walks past you two without a care, mumbling a soft 'g'morning,' and clambers onto the closed toilet seat. she sat there quietly, yet expectantly.

"morning, sweetness. did you sleep okay?" choso asks as he continues his facial routine. "mhm." she answers plainly, her legs hanging and swaying off the seat. "is your backpack ready for today? are you dressed?" you asked from your bedroom as you fixed your work bag. "yes, mama."

she observes her parents as they continue with their morning routine. you come back into the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day and spot her sleepy, radiating confidence. you ruffled her hair and chuckled softly, before turning to choso and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "i'm going to head out now. don't forget to make her lunch, cho. sweetness, i made you onigiri for breakfast. your favorite." you lean down to press a sweet kiss to her forehead. the little girl beams and says thank you. .

.

.

a few minutes pass after you leave and choso's almost ready to leave. all he has to do it fix his hair.

he's standing in front of the mirror, parting his hair into two even groups, one hair tie on his right wrist, the other perfectly perched between his lips. he raises both hands, tying up the right side first with practiced ease. little did he know, he had a little observer.

"papa can you do my hair, please?" she suddenly inquires. he turns his head slightly and raises a brow, smiling. "of course, papa's almost done." he said, voice muffled a bit, given the hair tie between his lips. "okay..." a minute passes and choso moves over to the toilet, bending down to pick up your daughter, secure in his big arms, and brings her over to the bed. she voluntarily plops onto the bed and sits facing away from him, readying herself to be glamorized! "sweets, how do you want your hair? in a ponytail, buns, or pigtails?" he asks mindlessly as he brushes through her mane of hair. "like papa's." oh. oh my god. "is that what you want, sweets? to look like papa?" "mhm! yup. i wanna look just like him. i'm gonna close my eyes so it's a surprise, papa." "oh...okay then....!" he chuckles breathlessly. oh how he was trying so hard not to be emotional. the signature pout of his creeping onto his face. his movements were languid and precise, taking extra care in order to not pull on her hair too hard. he made his best attempt to make her hair look a a tad bit spiky, just like his. soon after, choso turned her around and took out two little tendrils of hair to frame her face.

don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry

he took a deep breath and walked over to your vanity and brought over the handheld mirror. he gently placed it into your daughter's tiny hand. "you may look now." he spoke in his steadiest voice. she opened her eyes, her pupils dilating by one hundred. "i look just like you! i feel so pretty, papa!!" she exclaimed, all bright and cheery. choso pouted and nodded quickly. "you are pretty, sweets. you're your mama's girl."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n:

him fr 😛

hope u all liked pt 2!! i love love LOVE the idea of choso being a stay at home dad it just makes sense to me idk...also guys im making a taglist so let me know if u want to be added!!!!!!!! my inbox is open for reqs and any feedback! lets be mooties!! 🫶

follow @meli555 and read her latest fic. now.

divider: @cursed-carmine

[bellalalie]

Your sleepy Yuji one was genuinely so good (chefs kisssss to whimpering Yuji) I would love to read any similar ones to that where they are more compliant and cutesy! with any character ofc!

hi anon 😽 tysm!! more is definitely on the way do NOT fret 👀👀

[bellalalie]

choso attempts to tie your daughter's shoes

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy, domestic choso

"papa. mama's gonna be mad if she finds out-" "shhh....let papa concentrate, sweetness. we won't be late, i almost have it."

your four year old grimaced down at her dad, and folded her stubby arms. she huffed out a dramatic sigh through puffed cheeks and pretended not to really care. it's currently 7:42 am and school starts at 8:00 sharp.

choso, your ever loving and doting husband, does not know how to tie shoelaces....given the knotted mess of laces on the girl's mini black converse. the ones he bought, mind you.

your little girl, perched up on the edge of the shoe storage bench, clung onto the straps of her red leather backpack, observing her papa and his tiny knitted frown.

choso abandoned mission on her right sneaker and moved onto the next. he took one lace between two fingers and the same with the other, eyes darting between the two to ensure that they were at the same length and that his fingers were just beneath the aglet (weirdly, that's the only thing he knows about shoelaces: aglets.). cross to make an 'x,' then pull one underneath.....a knot. okay. okay! now, what the hell...

"how does one even come up with-" "papa." "huh?" choso froze at the small, authoritative voice. frozen mid-wrong step, he craned his neck up slightly from his hunched over, squatting position. "this is how you're s'posed to do it."

she reached down and choso handed the laces over to your daughter, taking them back into her dainty little hands, mumbling a quiet 'thank you.' ahem. "bunny ears, bunny ears, play by a tree.one runs around, trying to catch me. bunny ears, bunny ears, jump through the hole, pop out the other side, beautiful and bold!" she smiles all proud and wiggles her feet while admiring her handiwork. two perfect bows.

"mama taught me that." "eh? papa?"

without really realizing, choso had teared up at this adorable display before him.

his little girl, your mini me.

the little girl let out a loveable snort, at the sight before her. papa frog, she thought observing his squatted position and pouty expression.

with a final sniffle and wipe, the redoubtable man stood up and reached for the yellow cap, hung on the coat rack. choso flipped it in his hand and shoved it gently onto your daughter's head, her squealing and giggling out the door. "we gotta speed walk okay, sweetness? don't tell mama how late we are today, 'kay?" "m'kay!!"

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n: hi everyoneee first ever fluff accomplished. yes!!! i hope to eventually make this a series, but what do you guys think? don't hesitate to comment :) if you have specific suggestions, please send them over!! again, i'd love to hear your feedback!! reblogs encouraged and highly appreciated...and of course, thank you for reading!!! 💞

go follow best girl @meli555 and read her latest fic

my inbox is open! send me reqs and lets be mooties!! 🫶

divider: @cursed-carmine

[bellalalie]

giving yuji a sleepy blowjob (っ˕ -｡)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

18+ mdni! (oral f giving, sleepy fluffy sex, yuji and reader are aged up!)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the soft and comforting glow emanating from the early sunrise tickled yuji's fluttering eyelids as he looked down at you, leaning back on shaky elbows.

"a-angh- ....baby, a li-little faster, yeah?....yeah, just like that..." he praised through glazed lips and suppressed groans.

you let out a low and lazy hum, nodding around him, releasing him from your mouth, lips still rounded and puckered, right before peppering the underside of his tip with feathery kisses.

yuji threw his head back with a pathetic whimper onto the smooth, silken pillow (you had insisted the pillowcases to be silk since it was much better for hair upkeep, end quote).

with one last kiss, you eagerly went back down on him, suckling around his tip faster- moaning high and lovely, just how he liked them to be. you were tonguing and teasing his pink tip as his cute cock twitched and leaked more into your mouth, lapping it all up like the slut you are.

he tasted oh so divine. you just couldn't get enough!

his pre dribbled down your chin as you suckled on him nice and sweet, taking your time again to lavish your love all over his drooling tip and protruding veins.

you certainly couldn't let all that precum go to waste, right?

"haah...ba-baby, shit- you're just teasin' me now- a-aah!"

with a gentle hand right on his inner thigh, you soothed him while you took more of him in, rubbing slow, little hearts with your palm. you grazed his other thigh, fingertips then playing and stroking the rest of what just couldn't fit in your mouth! niiiice and slow, up and down, squeezing just right...

at that, his right hand crept its way into your hair, gently soothing your scalp and thumbing the corner of your eye with a gentleness only you deserved.

"mmphh...gooood girl, yes...you know how to do it, fuck, yeah you do...."

you looked up at him with the glossiest eyes and whimpered at his praise in that honeyed tone you came to love so much.

there was that boyish grin.

god was he wrapped around your finger.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a/n: hi guys! this is my first real post on tumblr (AHHHH) so i'd love to hear some feedback! reblogs highly appreciated and encouraged... thank you for reading!!! go follow best girl @meli555

my inbox is open! send me reqs!! 🫶

[bellalalie]

giving yuji a sleepy blowjob (っ˕ -｡)ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

18+ mdni! (oral f giving, sleepy fluffy sex, yuji and reader are aged up!)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the soft and comforting glow emanating from the early sunrise tickled yuji's fluttering eyelids as he looked down at you, leaning back on shaky elbows.

"a-angh- ....baby, a li-little faster, yeah?....yeah, just like that..." he praised through glazed lips and suppressed groans.

you let out a low and lazy hum, nodding around him, releasing him from your mouth, lips still rounded and puckered, right before peppering the underside of his tip with feathery kisses.

yuji threw his head back with a pathetic whimper onto the smooth, silken pillow (you had insisted the pillowcases to be silk since it was much better for hair upkeep, end quote).

with one last kiss, you eagerly went back down on him, suckling around his tip faster- moaning high and lovely, just how he liked them to be. you were tonguing and teasing his pink tip as his cute cock twitched and leaked more into your mouth, lapping it all up like the slut you are.

he tasted oh so divine. you just couldn't get enough!

his pre dribbled down your chin as you suckled on him nice and sweet, taking your time again to lavish your love all over his drooling tip and protruding veins.

you certainly couldn't let all that precum go to waste, right?

"haah...ba-baby, shit- you're just teasin' me now- a-aah!"

with a gentle hand right on his inner thigh, you soothed him while you took more of him in, rubbing slow, little hearts with your palm. you grazed his other thigh, fingertips then playing and stroking the rest of what just couldn't fit in your mouth! niiiice and slow, up and down, squeezing just right...

at that, his right hand crept its way into your hair, gently soothing your scalp and thumbing the corner of your eye with a gentleness only you deserved.

"mmphh...gooood girl, yes...you know how to do it, fuck, yeah you do...."

you looked up at him with the glossiest eyes and whimpered at his praise in that honeyed tone you came to love so much.

there was that boyish grin.

god was he wrapped around your finger.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a/n: hi guys! this is my first real post on tumblr (AHHHH) so i'd love to hear some feedback! reblogs highly appreciated and encouraged... thank you for reading!!! go follow best girl @meli555

my inbox is open! send me reqs!! 🫶

[bellalalie]

choso attempts to tie your daughter's shoes

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy, domestic choso

"papa. mama's gonna be mad if she finds out-" "shhh....let papa concentrate, sweetness. we won't be late, i almost have it."

your four year old grimaced down at her dad, and folded her stubby arms. she huffed out a dramatic sigh through puffed cheeks and pretended not to really care. it's currently 7:42 am and school starts at 8:00 sharp.

choso, your ever loving and doting husband, does not know how to tie shoelaces....given the knotted mess of laces on the girl's mini black converse. the ones he bought, mind you.

your little girl, perched up on the edge of the shoe storage bench, clung onto the straps of her red leather backpack, observing her papa and his tiny knitted frown.

choso abandoned mission on her right sneaker and moved onto the next. he took one lace between two fingers and the same with the other, eyes darting between the two to ensure that they were at the same length and that his fingers were just beneath the aglet (weirdly, that's the only thing he knows about shoelaces: aglets.). cross to make an 'x,' then pull one underneath.....a knot. okay. okay! now, what the hell...

"how does one even come up with-" "papa." "huh?" choso froze at the small, authoritative voice. frozen mid-wrong step, he craned his neck up slightly from his hunched over, squatting position. "this is how you're s'posed to do it."

she reached down and choso handed the laces over to your daughter, taking them back into her dainty little hands, mumbling a quiet 'thank you.' ahem. "bunny ears, bunny ears, play by a tree.one runs around, trying to catch me. bunny ears, bunny ears, jump through the hole, pop out the other side, beautiful and bold!" she smiles all proud and wiggles her feet while admiring her handiwork. two perfect bows.

"mama taught me that." "eh? papa?"

without really realizing, choso had teared up at this adorable display before him.

his little girl, your mini me.

the little girl let out a loveable snort, at the sight before her. papa frog, she thought observing his squatted position and pouty expression.

with a final sniffle and wipe, the redoubtable man stood up and reached for the yellow cap, hung on the coat rack. choso flipped it in his hand and shoved it gently onto your daughter's head, her squealing and giggling out the door. "we gotta speed walk okay, sweetness? don't tell mama how late we are today, 'kay?" "m'kay!!"

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n: hi everyoneee first ever fluff accomplished. yes!!! i hope to eventually make this a series, but what do you guys think? don't hesitate to comment :) if you have specific suggestions, please send them over!! again, i'd love to hear your feedback!! reblogs encouraged and highly appreciated...and of course, thank you for reading!!! 💞

go follow best girl @meli555 and read her latest fic

my inbox is open! send me reqs and lets be mooties!! 🫶

divider: @cursed-carmine

[bellalalie]

choso attempts to tie your daughter's shoes

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ fluffy, domestic choso

"papa. mama's gonna be mad if she finds out-" "shhh....let papa concentrate, sweetness. we won't be late, i almost have it."

your four year old grimaced down at her dad, and folded her stubby arms. she huffed out a dramatic sigh through puffed cheeks and pretended not to really care. it's currently 7:42 am and school starts at 8:00 sharp.

choso, your ever loving and doting husband, does not know how to tie shoelaces....given the knotted mess of laces on the girl's mini black converse. the ones he bought, mind you.

your little girl, perched up on the edge of the shoe storage bench, clung onto the straps of her red leather backpack, observing her papa and his tiny knitted frown.

choso abandoned mission on her right sneaker and moved onto the next. he took one lace between two fingers and the same with the other, eyes darting between the two to ensure that they were at the same length and that his fingers were just beneath the aglet (weirdly, that's the only thing he knows about shoelaces: aglets.). cross to make an 'x,' then pull one underneath.....a knot. okay. okay! now, what the hell...

"how does one even come up with-" "papa." "huh?" choso froze at the small, authoritative voice. frozen mid-wrong step, he craned his neck up slightly from his hunched over, squatting position. "this is how you're s'posed to do it."

she reached down and choso handed the laces over to your daughter, taking them back into her dainty little hands, mumbling a quiet 'thank you.' ahem. "bunny ears, bunny ears, play by a tree.one runs around, trying to catch me. bunny ears, bunny ears, jump through the hole, pop out the other side, beautiful and bold!" she smiles all proud and wiggles her feet while admiring her handiwork. two perfect bows.

"mama taught me that." "eh? papa?"

without really realizing, choso had teared up at this adorable display before him.

his little girl, your mini me.

the little girl let out a loveable snort, at the sight before her. papa frog, she thought observing his squatted position and pouty expression.

with a final sniffle and wipe, the redoubtable man stood up and reached for the yellow cap, hung on the coat rack. choso flipped it in his hand and shoved it gently onto your daughter's head, her squealing and giggling out the door. "we gotta speed walk okay, sweetness? don't tell mama how late we are today, 'kay?" "m'kay!!"

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

a/n: hi everyoneee first ever fluff accomplished. yes!!! i hope to eventually make this a series, but what do you guys think? don't hesitate to comment :) if you have specific suggestions, please send them over!! again, i'd love to hear your feedback!! reblogs encouraged and highly appreciated...and of course, thank you for reading!!! 💞

go follow best girl @meli555 and read her latest fic

my inbox is open! send me reqs and lets be mooties!! 🫶

divider: @cursed-carmine

[meli555]

18+ content ahead!

gojo loves making you cry (smut, dacryphilia, overstimulation)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊

“oh baby I know” gojo coos, smirking almost devilishly as he holds you down by your waist.

your annoyingly smug boyfriend has been pounding you for what has felt like hours… making you cum 5, 8, 10, 12, 25 times? you don’t know. youve lost count.

by the (probably) 4th orgasm, salty tears started to fall down your face, overwhelmed from the overstimulation. it felt so good, he felt so good. almost too good.

unfortunately (fortunately) for you, crying only fueled gojo’s lust further. he gripped you harder, slammed his cock into you relentlessly, and groaned as you sobbed.

“am I a sadist?” he thinks to himself each time, unable to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes your desperate wailing so arousing. is it the fact that you clearly feel good? or maybe it’s your pretty face? big glossy eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips. oh how cute you are, especially when you sniffle. maybe it’s your nails digging into his back? or how damn tight you are?

actually, it’s everything.

or just you.

gojo thrusts over and over, his hand slowlyyy reaching down to rub circles on your wet clit, making your head spin.

“mm—mph! so—so muchh ‘toru!” you whine, squirming when he goes impossibly deeper.

“so pretty baby… so cute.” he praises, practically hypnotized by the sight of you fucked-out beneath him. but you barely hear him, mind fuzzy as the heat builds in your stomach once more.

he sighs, admiring your tearful and flustered expression, practically moaning as he watches your watery eyes roll back for what seemed like thousandth time.

a heavy hand rests on your forehead, the ramming of his cock just barely slowing down, “one more, baby? just wanna keep watching that cute face…”

its gonna be a lot more than “one more,”

…but you’re not complaining.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊

follow pookie! @bellalalie