PRECAUTIONARY ADULT BLOG

Hewwo I’m Kat and this is my 18+ blog, so no minors!! 23, Genderfluid, pronouns are she/they/hearts/love main blog is kittykatanimelove21

[alygator77]

୨₊signed in sweetness₊୧

꒰ summary꒱ nineteen days in hell leaves marks no one else can see. when your husband satoru returns from the prison realm, he realizes your life was survival too. you survived his absence the only way you knew how. by loving him anyway.

꒰ tags/warnings꒱ angst ꭷ fluff ꭷ very hurt/comfort ꭷ grief ꭷ isolation ꭷ emotional reunions ꭷ classmates to friends to lovers ꭷ canon adjacent ꭷ minor timeskip ꭷ reader is kinda a sorcerer (but not really) ꭷ she's also a sweetheart who stress bakes and we love her ꭷ hints of an eating disorder ꭷ explicit sexual content ꭷ mdni ꭷ smut ꭷ creampie ꭷ heavy breeding kink (like... a LOT) ꭷ belly bulging ꭷ masturbation ꭷ feral gojo ꭷ overstimulation ꭷ praise ꭷ happy ending!

꒰ authors note꒱ happy valentines day 💘 i hope ya'll enjoy this little love letter of a story for our pookie! this fic is a commission for my very best friend @strychnynegirl 🫶🏻 i love you sm sweetheart! (wc. 10.3k)

“You’re too soft for this world. Too sweet.”

Sweet.

The word snapped sharply, just before the blow did. And with a harsh slap of your back against the training mat, you blinked up, breathless. Your core ached, and the ceiling beams swam in your blurred vision — just before your sensei’s shadow cut across it all.

“You know what your problem is?” he deadpanned, clipped and cold, glaring down at you. “You never follow through. You second-guess. You hesitate. You don’t stand your ground, and you sure as hell don’t hit like you mean it.”

Your mouth opened, desperate for something to say, to explain, or maybe to apologize again — but nothing came out. Because how were you supposed to say ‘I don’t want to hurt her’ or ‘I don’t want to fight’ without sounding stupid?

Sweet girls don’t belong in combat. Sweet girls got chewed up and spat out.

“Again,” he snapped.

And as you pressed your stinging palms to the mat and forced yourself upright, you caught them from the corner of your eye: your classmates. Poised in practiced stances, exchanging low murmurs and whispering smirks.

“…why is she even here?”

“Seriously. I thought this school had standards.”

“Wow. Look at her. Can’t even block a basic sweep.”

They giggled, and with a shuddering breath, you got to your feet, pretending not to hear it. Because that’s what you always do. Pretending is a skill you learned early. It’s quieter than crying, and less embarrassing than asking them to stop.

“Yes, sensei…”

From a young age, you had always known you weren’t born for battle. That was never your story. Because you weren’t the girl with fire in her veins, sharpening her teeth on spite or grinning through broken bones.

No — you were the girl who gave up the last plate of dinner. Even when your stomach ached. Even when you’d already skipped lunch and were pretty sure you might fucking pass out. But someone else needed it more, right?

And you were… fine.

Always fine.

Yeah. You were the girl who once found a bird in the yard — its wing bent backward, chest fluttering like paper. And you were desperate to save it. You tried. God, you tried. But… it died anyway. And you cried so hard that your mother scolded you like an insulant child.

‘Stop being a baby.’

‘Get over it already. You need to toughen up.’

You’d heard it all, for as long as you could remember. And still, you didn’t understand why softness was something you were supposed to outgrow. They offered those words like wisdom, but… really? It felt more like they were trying to reshape you. Like they were tweaking the recipe of who you were into a flavor more palatable, for a story worth telling.

A strong woman. A capable woman.

But… what even is strength, anyway?

The thought swelled in your chest as you paced through the corridors of Jujutsu High, sniffling back tears from your latest sparing match, and praying no one saw you like this. Across the courtyard, a row of vending machines glowed in the cold dusk like a salvation.

You just needed something fizzy. Something cold. But as you stepped up to the vending machine, your breath caught in your throat as you patted your pockets, fingers fumbling for spare change when—

THUD!

“Ughhhh. Yaga-senseiii,” a voice had whined somewhere beyond the grass. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

You flinched, blinking toward the sound — and when you peeked around the corner, sure enough, there he was. A boy. Sprawled dramatically across the lawn like a fallen soldier, limbs splayed as if flung from the heavens themselves. His sunglasses were pushed into snowy hair, with pale lashes fluttering in exaggerated agony.

“I’m dyyyying,” he moaned to the sky. “Starvation. Malnutrition. Premature and preventable death. Is this what it feels like to be forsaken by God?”

“Satoru…” Yaga let out a long, suffering sigh. “Lunch isn’t for another two hours. You’ve barely finished half your drills and—”

“Two HOURS?!” Satoru shrieked, flinging an arm over his face like a dying poet. “I can’t train like this—do you want me to waste away?! My cursed energy has dietary requirements, Sensei!” He grumbled, huffing in dismay. “Wow. This is it. This is the end for me, guys.”

Wait.

Satoru? As in… Satoru Gojo?!

Your breath hitched. You’d heard his name whispered like a myth since you were old enough to sense cursed energy; a prodigy, a legend, the strongest sorcerer of his generation. And yet… he was currently holding his own funeral in the quad. Covered in dirt. Not even pretending to be dignified.

“Here he goes again,” Shoko snorted, already lying on her back in the grass, one leg propped over the other lazily. She sighed, amused. “I give him three minutes before he starts reciting his will to the clouds.”

“Three? That’s too generous,” Suguru smirked, leaning against the base of a tree, arms crossed. “Nah… I’d give him two.”

“Pfft… I hear you!” Satoru glared, lifting his head just enough before letting it thunk back down with another theatrical groan. “Fuckin’ rude. I’m dying, and all you care about is betting on my demise.”

Yaga sighed, rubbing his temple. “Satoru, look. If I let you take a break now, everyone’s gonna say I’m playing favorites and—”

“But senseiiii,” he pouted, one hand clutching his stomach. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast. And y’know my technique might be limitless but my metabolism sure as hell isn’t.”

“Christ…” Yaga muttered, shaking his head, brushing his hand through his hair like he knows he’s going to regret this. “Okay, fine. Take a five-minute break. But that’s it.”

“Really?!” Satoru gasped like he’d just been resurrected. “Oh thank god, I was starting to see the light,” he chirped, springing upright and dusting himself off. “Oi! Suguru, Shoko, you want anything from the vending machine?” he called, and when he was already halfway across the lawn, panic bloomed in your chest because—

Oh no.

No no no.

He was headed right toward you. And he can’t — can’t see you like this. You tried to shove your coin in faster, fingers slipping against the metal, eyes still raw and damp. The machine clanked, with your drink tumbling into the tray just as he stepped beside you, already digging in his wallet. You reached for the bottle, fully intending to flee, but—

“Figures,” he muttered, giving the machine a light kick. “Seriously? No chocolate. No melon bread, either.” He sighed, glancing over at you. “You see this shit? Like… who the hell keeps buying all the good snacks? I mean—”

The moment his voice cut off, you didn’t even have to look to know why. Because… yeah. He’d seen you swiping at your eyes that moment, trying to hide the redness. And… damnit. How pathetic can you be?! Breaking down in front of the strongest?!

Don’t do it. Don’t acknowledge the pain.

Sniffling, you straightened your shoulders, clutching the can to your chest. Your lower lip wobbled, but you bit down hard, willing it still, pretending you’re fine. And gathering your resolve, your eyes flicked towards his when—

Oh.

A shaky breath pulled out of you, almost like relief, with your chest loosening instantly. Because… what a beautifully, vibrant, crystalline blue. And somehow… soft too? Like sunlight through stained glass. Eyes that looked like they could see straight through you, and hold you through it all.

“Hey… um,” with furrowing brows, his voice gentled, head tilting in concern. “You… good?”

It’s such a simple question, really. But that acknowledgement? It’s all it takes. Something in your chest gave way. “Y-Yeah… um,” you choked, nodding as more tears spilled hot. You sniffled, trying to stop them. “I-I’m… I’m fine, really. Fine.”

It’s the least convincing lie you’ve ever told, but it’s the only thing you have left. Because pretending hurts less than admitting to yourself that this is all your life will ever be.

A prison.

And despite Satoru not buying it, still, he didn’t push. Instead, he just rocked back on his heels with a quiet sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair like he was trying not to make things worse.

“Um… so like… I’m gonna assume you’re havin’ a rough day?” he offered lightly, like he was tossing you a rope. “I mean… unless you’re crying over the empty strawberry mochi too. In which case, shit. I swear we might be soulmates.”

At that, a laugh slipped out — small, choked, but real. And his grin was crooked and triumphant, like that was exactly the sound he’d been hoping for. Like he was absurdly proud of himself for coaxing it out of you.

And god, his smile was boyishly perfect. It tugged at the corners of your own mouth, even when everything in your chest still felt unbearably messy and knotted and wrong.

“…no, that’s not it,” you muttered, wiping your cheek with the edge of your sleeve. “It’s not the mochi. But… um,” you huffed a smile, glancing up. “I get it. I do. Because, like… strawberry’s definitely the best one.”

“Ohmygod right!?” He gasped, beaming. His delightful smile grew. “Finally, someone with taste!” and with a sigh, he leaned back against the vending machine, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “So… you love sweet things too?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, sniffling.

The worst of the tears had passed. And with a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the vending machine beside him, mirroring his posture. “I… always have,” you murmured, a distant look softening your features. “I mean… man,” you huffed, smiling. “What I wouldn’t give for a crepe right now.”

“Ooooo, crepes,” he nodded solemnly. “You’ve got excellent taste.”

You both stood there, eyes ahead, the vending machine humming behind you. After a moment, he glanced over observantly, tilting his head with a curious grin.

“Okay, okay—but like… there’s this place in Shibuya that does crepes with caramelized strawberries. And… just imagine it,” he sighed dreamily. “Beautifully burnt sugar, custard, a little dusting of kinako on top? It’s insane. You ever been?”

The brightness radiating off of him is endearing, making your lips tug up further.

“…No,” you admit, looking out towards the garden. “But… that sounds, nice.”

And it was hard not to picture it — that soft cream on your tongue, sugar sticking to your fingertips, laughter curling sweet in your chest. It’s too easy to crave it, to remember what it used to taste like. What it felt like to not be afraid of wanting those things. But—

‘A lady doesn’t indulge.’

‘No man wants a girl who can’t control herself.’

When your mother’s voice echoed in memory, a bitterness curled in your stomach. A reminder you can’t escape from. And blinking slowly, you cleared your throat, pushing it away.

“…I just… um. I can’t really eat that kind of stuff anymore… unfortunately.”

You shrugged it off like it was nothing, while Satoru’s expression hardened.

“Uh… can’t?” he pressed, raising a brow. And hesitating, your lips pressed together.

“Y-Yeah…” you swallowed. “Um. Diet thing… y’know,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. “It’s strict clan rules. Gotta… keep up appearances, I guess.”

The vagueness in your words wasn’t hard to miss. Satoru picked up on them, instantly. A brief silence settled between you, but you felt those sure, crystalline eyes, watching you. And for a moment? You wished you hadn’t said anything at all.

He huffed, clicking his tongue. “Man… that sucks,” and shoving his hands into his pockets, he grumbled. “That’s bullshit. Here I thought I had it rough.”

Glancing over, you could tell he was biting his tongue. And you worried that maybe… you said too much. Did you just admit to being… broken? But he didn’t let you feel heavy with it.

He flopped against the vending machine like gravity owed him an apology.

“Damn. What the hell?” he let out a long, theatrical sigh. Sliding down to the ground with his legs splayed in front of him. “You’re pretty incredible. I could never.”

Your heart raced while the cicadas thrummed in the trees. And you stared down at this boy — this ridiculous, blinding boy who somehow looked both divine and completely, utterly human.

His eyes softened with a sadness. “Um… by the way,” he murmured. “Did y’know my cursed technique drains the hell outta me? It’s… exhausting, actually.”

Holding your breath, you listened. It was like, the world tilted just a little to keep him in frame. Like he carved out a space in the universe where the two of you were allowed to just… exist.

“There’s been a bounty on my head since before I could read…” he mumbled. “So, if someone ever tried to make me give up sugar?” he huffed, bitterly. “I’d be hallucinating crepes by lunchtime. Like… full delusion. Would probably try to lick the fuckin’ grass or somethin’.”

Before you could stop it, you’re doubling over, giggling. Sliding down the vending machine, catching your breath. Because you hadn’t felt this is so long. Warmth. Acceptance. And he made existing so… easy.

“Oi! Little missy. Is my life a joke to you?!” he tried to pout, but that triumphant grin was winning from the sound of your laughter. And you huffed, shaking your head with a relieved sigh. “No… sorry,” you sniffed, leaning your head back, allowing the gentle blue of his eyes to hold you steady.

It was the sweetest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“But… I gotta say,” he whispered. “To not eat any sweets…? You must be really strong.”

You blinked, lips parting.

Strong?

You sure as hell didn’t feel strong. You felt like a thread pulled too tight — like if someone tugged a little harder, you’d snap in two. But… god. The way he said it made something ache in your chest.

He was… sweet.

Hesitating, your fingers curled around the strap of your bag. There was a bento buried under your books. With cookies, still warm from when you packed them this morning. Not for you, obviously. You were never allowed to eat what you baked.

But… you baked anyway. You always did. Measuring peace in spoonfuls of sugar, finding warmth in the rise of dough. Even if all you ever did was give it away. Because sweetness was something to share… something you’d never get it return.

Your fingers twitched.

…should you?

Screw it.

“Um… here,” you muttered, reaching into your bag and slowly pulling the bento free. “I-If you want something sweet… I-I baked these this morning and…”

As you held them out, Satoru blinked, staring like you just handed him a marriage proposal.

“Wait… seriously?!” he grinned, hands brushing yours, taking them. “Do you just… like. Carry cookies around your bag every day? Like some kind of secret snack sorceress?”

Your cheeks burned. “What? N-No… I…” and the moment he was bringing it towards his lips, excitedly, a nervous flutter spread through your chest. Close to panic.

“I-I haven’t tasted them though!” you added quickly as he took a bite. “Since I… y’know. Can’t eat them… um. So if they’re awful—”

He moaned. “Holy shit,” eyes widening with a mouthful, turning to you. “Wait. You made these? And can’t fucking eat them?! Um. That’s illegal. You’re too powerful.”

Warmth spread through your chest, and giggling, you tried so hard — tried not to stare at the crumbs on his ridiculously soft lips; tried not to let your damn heart skip a beat the moment he deadpanned:

“Huh. Maybe we are soulmates,” with the corner of his mouth quirking up, flashing that dangerously white grin, while his pale lashes fluttered over an impossibly beautiful blue.

“I think…” he teased. “You’re gonna have to marry me one day, sweetheart.”

And marry Satoru Gojo, you did.

Because three months later, he still called you his sweetheart.

It started with cookies. Then cupcakes. Then fudge, and buttered sponge cakes in little paper wrappers. Every lunch break, like clockwork, he’d find you — sprawled beneath the camphor trees, arms tucked behind his head like a makeshift pillow, his white hair catching sunlight like it was spun from sugar.

“Oi, snack sorceress,” he’d hum, already rifling through your bag like it belonged to him. “What d’you have for me today, hm?”

At first, it was a joke.

Then? It became ritual.

You weren’t sure when he started dragging you around campus like you were his favorite person — but it happened fast. A blur of hallway detours and courtyard interruptions, always grabbing your wrist, tugging you along with that ridiculous grin. And honestly? You weren’t sure if he considered you a friend, or if you were just another satellite caught in the beauty of his orbit.

Because Satoru Gojo became your sun, and your moon. Your sky, and your stars. He was loud where you were quiet. Brilliant where you were cautious. Strong, where you were sweet. And he kept showing up. Pulling you into things. Making space. Seeing you.

“C’mon pretty girl,” he’d say, lacing his fingers through yours, dragging you out of your dorm. “No staying cooped up alone all day. That’s how curses breed!”

And when people talked — because believe me, they did — about your clan, about how your cursed technique wasn’t strong enough to warrant the family name, about how you were lucky to even be at Jujutsu High…

He’d cut them off mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry? Fuckin’ say that again?” he’d murmur, six-eyes glimmering in threat, smile gone. “And slowly. Because I wanna make sure I heard you disrespect my girl correctly.”

His girl.

He’d say it with such casual authority; like it was obvious, like it had always been true. But… he never touched you. Not like that, at least. And you’d pretend not to notice how your pulse would jump under his fingers.

It was a quiet dance of intimacy between you — one that never broke rhythm. You’d bandage the cuts on his knuckles after every mission. He’d let you fuss with his collar when it was crooked. And he’d drape himself over you like a lazy cat claiming its favorite spot.

It was a silent rule you both followed. A line you never crossed. Because the world was already asking too much of him, and the elders were always watching. You accepted that this was all it would ever… be. You were students. Sorcerers. Weapons-in-training. There was never room for a softness like that, in this world.

He needed…

Strength. Right?

Not you.

And yet, things started to change when he missed lunch the week Suguru defected. You found him that day, on the roof — knees pulled to his chest; sunglasses forgotten beside him.

“Oh… there you are,” you murmured, kneeling beside him with a small box in your hands. “Why are you up here? I was worried when I couldn’t find you?”

He didn’t respond. And the sky above him was too blue that day. A cruel, endless kind of blue. Unlike his eyes, which were hollow. Distant. Quiet in a way that broke you.

“…Satoru?” you whispered. “I… made mochi?” You offered, voice unsure. “Strawberry. With… extra custard? Um. I might’ve overfilled them though and—”

Once the lid clicked open, he was reaching for it instantly. He took a bite without a word, and dropped his head onto your shoulder; like he was too tired to hold it up.

“It’s perfect…” he mumbled around a bite, breath hitching. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

When you felt the tremble in his body, you knew. That was the first day you saw Satoru Gojo cry. And you held him close, that day; brushing your fingers through his hair, like maybe it could lull the grief to sleep. Like maybe you could carry it for him.

Because you would, if you could.

And after that?

Well… he started showing up at your dorm after curfew. He’d always teleport unannounced, with his hair damp from a shower, dressed cozy. You blinked at him, heart fluttering, still clutching your pillow.

“Hey…” he mumbled that first night, kicking his foot at nothing. “Um. I’m bored,” he stated, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly. “And the dorm’s just… quiet. Without Suguru. So…”

That was his first excuse.

Next, it was cupcakes — when he claimed to have a craving and tried to guilt you into baking. The night after that, he brought a deck of cards and insisted on teaching you how to cheat at poker. Then came movies. Snacks. Your favorite iced tea, chilled just right. A blanket already draped over his shoulder like he belonged there.

But he wouldn’t sleep beside you. No. He’d stay until your breathing slowed, and your body instinctively curled towards him. But by morning, he was gone. Until he’d return the next night like clockwork.

That line you’d never cross. But eventually… you both stopped pretending.

One night, you were curled up together beneath a heap of blankets, half-watching a movie you’d both already seen. He cradled you in his arms, with his chest rising against your side in slow, steady rhythms. The credits rolled, and as your eyes began to drift shut, that was his cue. But…

“I don’t wanna go back,” he whispered in the quiet. Your lashes fluttered open, and turning, you brought your face to his. “…no?” you asked, and he swallowed, hesitating. “Yeah… um. It’s too quiet over there. And… everything echoes.”

The flickering light from the screen bathed him in soft blue shadows. And those beautiful eyes were… tired. But he’d managed to smile at you anyway. While you brushed your hand down his jaw, he leaned into you.

“Then… don’t,” you whispered, eyes flicking to his lips. “You can always stay here, Satoru. You know that… right?”

Brows furrowing, he nodded, searching your face for a moment, like he was searching for permission, maybe. Or courage. And the moment he leaned in, allowing your lips to finally fit together, it was like a thousand sleepless nights, a thousand unsaid wishes, poured between each trembling breath you took.

Clothes slipped off in quiet pieces. Like a secret shared in the dark.

And Satoru made love to you with slow, reverent hands — like every inch of your skin was something sacred he hadn’t dared touch until now. Your legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you into each thrust.

It was a night filled with panting breathes, hushed moans, soft nips against your skin as the bed creaked beneath every insistent, aching snap of his hips.

“I should’ve done this sooner,” his breath hitched into a moan while his dick swelled, dragging through the slick clutch of your heat. “S-shit…” his hips began to tremble, and his mouth fell open in awe, balls tightening, desperate to spill.

“Fuck—be mine,” he begged, voice unraveling. “Please, baby… please, I—m’gonna—”

“M’yours,” you gasped.

And with a breathless groan, Satoru’s hand found yours, fingers lacing tight as he erupted deep, flooding you with his hot, pulsing release. His face buried into your neck while he jerked helplessly against your snug walls, spilling a thick, creamy warmth from his beautifully flushed tip, in eager bursts.

It left your thighs sticky, your chest heaving, and your heart, impossibly full.

That night, you didn’t just fall asleep tangled in his arms. You made a vow. He was yours. And you were his.

Always.

He proposed not long after. Multiple times, actually — half-joking at first, murmured between kisses, in the quiet lull of mornings or when he was half-asleep and clinging to you like a vine.

“Just… marry me already,” he’d whisper into your hair. “Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

And when he finally pulled out that platinum ring — with an infinity sign delicately carved across the band — you knew he was serious. Because his hands were trembling.

“Please…?” he asked, voice barely a breath. He looked at you like you hung the damn sky. “I’ll spoil you rotten,” he promised, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Buy you whatever you want. Keep you safe. You’d never have to worry about anything again.”

But it came with a condition.

He wanted you out. No more being a sorcerer. No more trying to be something you were not. When you warned him about what people would say, he insisted—

“Let them fucking try to stop me,” he scoffed, sharper now. “I don’t give a shit. Let them fight. Let me fight. You stay home. You stay safe. I wanna come home to you, baby.”

And what Satoru says, goes. Because if the elders so much as breathed a word about him marrying you, about you, a nobody, becoming his housewife, he’d snap their spines in half and toss their relics in the ocean.

He loved you, so, so much. And you loved him.

But…

Love makes you believe in stupid things. Like the strongest man you’ve ever known is somehow untouchable. Unstoppable.

Unbreakable.

‘Hey, Satoru. Long time no see.’

It’s… funny. You’d think eternity would feel bigger.

That’s the first thought Satoru has the moment his boots hit the ground — after whatever force dragged him through space drops him into what most would consider, hell.

The prison realm.

There’s no sky. No sun. Just a horizon with no depth, no curve — like someone flattened the world into static and drained it of color. Grey stretches in every direction. The kind of grey that seeps into your thoughts. The kind of grey that tastes like grief.

‘All the information provided by my six eyes is telling me you’re Suguru Geto. But both my heart and my soul know otherwise.’

Scoffing, Satoru kicks at the cracked femur of a skeleton with his boot. They’re clattering in disjointed piles. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. A reminder of the souls who didn’t survive this prison. Because the only way out… is ending it yourself.

“Creepy little fuckers…” he mutters, dropping onto a mound of skeletons like it’s a park bench. Bone shifts beneath him with a hollow rattle. “Whatever. I’ve had worse roommates.”

It’s too flippant, too loud, too casual. Like if he keeps the joke going, the silence won’t swallow him whole.

But truthfully?

He knows. He let his guard down, became too soft. Too vulnerable. Because for one second? He believed he could afford to. But now, all the strongest man in the world can do is pace in circles… and pretend he doesn’t feel the walls closing in.

Trapped in a box with no corners.

Waiting to break.

The prison realm reveals all.

Satoru Gojo learns it on the first day. Or… is it the first hour? Actually, maybe it’s already been a week. Hard to say, when a goddamn pocket dimension doesn’t come with a clock; there’s no sense of time.          He never gets hungry. Never gets… tired.

Well, at least not the tired you can sleep through. Because memories play like mirages, as if the realm plucked them straight from your bones, reaching into the marrow, trying to break you.

“Suguru…”

He hears his own voice before he sees it. And when Satoru’s eyes flick up, there he is. Himself. A younger version, standing in a crowd of nobodies, desperate to reach his best friend.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to kill unless there was a point to it?”

The skeletons seem to like this one, because it plays often. It’s usually this memory — or the few, ugly ones from his childhood; shitty ones of his parents’ hollow affection.

“There is a point,” Suguru says eventually, backed turned to his younger self. “And a cause. A significance, even.”

Satoru sits amongst the skeletons, elbows resting on his knees. His six eyes are dimmed to something distant and hollow. Watching his own past like it’s a show he can’t turn off. Like he’s been strapped into the front row of his worst failure.

“No, there’s not!” Younger Satoru snaps, hands flying outward; frustrated, desperate — clinging to something already dissolving between them. “There’s no point in chipping away at something you can’t possibly achieve!”

And this? This is where the memory always fractures. Because when Suguru turns, it’s never toward younger Satoru. It’s toward him. Toward the version sitting in the bones.

“You’re so… arrogant,” he scoffs, tilting his head with a wicked smile. “You could do it yourself, Satoru. Couldn’t you?”

Everything glitches like a dying bulb, with the courtyard tearing at the edges, while the sky bleeds grey again. The skeletons stir, chattering with taunting laughs, echoing in his mind.

‘Do it.’

Satoru squeezes his eyes shut, jaw tightening like he can muscle through it. But the whispers come from everywhere.

‘Failure.’

A skull rolls near his boot.

‘It’s all your fault. Isn’t it?’

Groaning, Satoru’s fingers rake through his hair while his foot taps against the bone-littered ground — restless, coiled, like he could rip this entire realm apart with brute fucking force, if only there were something solid to grab onto.

‘You should’ve done better. But no. You weren’t there for him.’

Something snaps. With a ragged, broken growl, Satoru hurls the skull across the wasteland, making it shatter into fragments of endless grey.

But… it doesn’t help.

The sounds continue to echo, and nothing changes. The whispers don’t stop, don’t fade. And with a sharp exhale, Satoru collapses — curling forward into himself, burying his face in his hands.

Crying.

“Shit—shitshitshit—my cookies, they’re gonna burn!”

At the sound of your voice, Satoru’s head snaps up so fast, it practically makes him dizzy. His lashes are still wet. His throat is still raw. And for one fragile second, he thought he imagined it.

“Baby?” he croaks, scrambling to his feet, bones clattering beneath him. “S-sweetheart—?”

The wasteland flickers. And suddenly—

Warmth.

Sugar.

Light.

It hits him full throttle, while he’s stumbling into a kitchen that smells like butter and caramel and citrus zest — so achingly domestic it almost brings him to his knees. The counters are dusted in flour. The oven timer screams. And golden light pools across the focused lines of your back. You’re wearing that flour-smudged apron you swore you hated but refused to give up.

“Angel…” his voice breaks in relief, reaching for you. “It’s you. I…”

“Shit!” you hiss, turning. And when you walk straight through him like a ghost? Satoru stutters helplessly; spinning around while he watches another version of himself stand in the doorway, blinking at the warzone.

“Whoa,” Memory-Satoru deadpans, toeing the door shut with his boot. “Uhh… why are there ten different desserts in this house right now?”

Cupcakes lined along the windowsill, a half-frosted cake sagging on a stand, a pie cooling crooked on the stovetop, and a tray of macarons stacked like ammunition.

A battlefield of sweets.

Yanking on an oven mitt, you drag the tray out.

“Because. I didn’t know what I was in the mood to panic about, so I just… chose all of them, and—oh, fuck—” you hiss, dropping the tray on the stove. It clatters; revealing a burnt batch of cookies.

“Great. Fucking great…” you laugh, on the brink of losing it, tossing the mitt aside. “Ruined. Just like my goddamn peace of mind…”

As present Satoru stands amongst the midst of this memory, his eyes soften, blinking through the wetness, still clinging to his lashes.

What the hell?

You look so real.

The light on your cheekbone. The tension in your shoulders. He swears he can smell the vanilla on your skin.

It’s not fair.

“You know…” Memory‑Satoru says, carefully stepping around a bowl of frosting, grin crooked. “There’s technically a limit to how many sweets one man can eat.”

You scoff, snatching the piping bag off the counter, squeezing frosting into uneven spirals as you grumble, annoyed. “Oh. Okay… I thought your appetite was limitless.”

The words are tossed out like a joke, but Satoru can see the tension building beneath the tremble in your hands, can hear the tightness in your voice like you’re on the verge of breaking down and—

Shit.

His heart drops. He knows this memory. It was the night he left; the night of Shibuya. You’d read his mission report three times that afternoon. That damn condition in the veil stating to: Bring Satoru Gojo. You did what you always do when you’re stressed. Bake like your life depends on it.

He watches himself sigh, crossing the kitchen. “Hey, hey…” Memory-Satoru gentles your wrists, pushing them down with ease. “Oi… Betty Crocker. C’mon now, what’s this about?”

That softness in his voice, breaks you. And before you can stop it, the piping bag drops from your hands, as your body begins to tremble.

“I just—” your breath hitches, choking back a sob. “I-I… I dunno. I need something to do!”

The moment your quiet tears begin to fall, the urge to leap through this goddamn memory and hold you is unbearable. But Memory-Satoru beats him to it.

“Nu-uh… none of that,” he pulls you in from the waist, nose brushing yours. “Stop it. You hear me?” he whispers softly. “I’m coming back.”

Your glassy eyes look up at him. “…really?” you whimper, and he scoffs. “Duh,” with those blue eyes rolling in playful affection. “You know I got this. I’ll be back by dinner, sweetheart. Don’t sweat it.”

A wet giggle pushes out of you, as you nod, still crying, but smiling.

“Okay…” your hands grip his forearms, and you swallow. “Promise?”

“Promise…” the kitchen lights begin to flicker, and his voice warps when he says. “Remember, I’ll alwayyyssys come hommme to you, ba-baabyyyy…”

As the counters begin to dissolve at the edges, “No—wait—!” Satoru lunges for you “—please!”

But it’s too late. You’re already gone. And he’s left standing there, alone in a pile of bones, while the sweet echo of your voice rattles in his head. Along with that aching desperation in his chest; the need to see you again. To hold you again.

‘You abandoned her.’

He blinks, looking down at a skull that rolled to his boot. Attempting to taunt him. To break him again.

‘You let her down. Left her.’

But what the prison realm thought would break him, would actually recreate him. Because somewhere beyond this suffocating nowhere… you’re still waiting.

And Satoru Gojo doesn’t make empty promises.

That’s how it began. Trapped in this prison, your softness became Satoru Gojo’s strength.

Whenever those incessant voices slithered in — whispering, needling, trying to drag his thoughts somewhere dark and festering — he would stop. Breathe. Remember one simple truth.

This was his mind.

Not theirs.

They could replay whatever horrors they wanted. Parade ghosts in front of him. Twist memories into weapons. But they couldn’t make him stay there. They couldn’t decide what he held onto. So? He chose to reach for you.

Not power. Not pride. Not pain.

But you.

“Oooo! ‘toru, ‘toru!! Look at this!!”

You came skidding into the living room with your fuzzy socks, holding up your phone like you’d just uncovered a conspiracy. With a messy bun, wearing his hoodie. And you looked ridiculously beautiful. Ridiculously his.

“You’re gonna love this,” you snorted, plopping down beside him with a grin. “Nanami finally posted a photo with that bakery girl.”

“Wait… the bakery girl?” Satoru blinked. “No fuckin’ way. He swore they were just friends.”

“Mhm. Friends don’t look at each other like that,” you sing-songed, jabbing at the screen like the evidence was damning. “See? I fucking told you he had a thing for her!!”

He laughed so hard that for a second, he forgot what it meant to feel hollow. And when the laugher faded? He reached for another thread.

“Mmf—serioushly?”

Your mouth was full of toothpaste, wearing one of Satoru’s oversized shirts while he sat on the bathroom counter; shirtless, shameless, and already half-pouting.

“Yeah, seriously. Gakuganji wants to schedule another emergency meeting. At fuckin’ six a.m. On a Sunday!”

You raised a brow as you kept brushing.

“I swear to god…” Satoru threw his head back dramatically. “That old fossil has a personal grudge against joy. Or sleep. Or maybe just me.”

“Mmf—tha’sh shtupid,” you muttered, foamy and garbled. “Yer not fuckin’ goin’.”

He loved it.

You didn’t have a mean bone in your body — but god, you were fierce when it came to him. Always on his side. Always ready to defend him like it was instinct. He clung to those memories like a lifeline now, tugging each one forward before the dark could steal it back.

“Oh my god, ‘toru,” you’d announced, halfway through unpacking groceries like it was a timed challenge. “You’re never gonna believe what happened today.”

“Oh?” he grinned. “Do tell, baby. I’m all ears.”

He was stacking pantry goods with exaggerated care, and you paused at the fridge, smiling to yourself like it was a secret.

“Um… Megumi talked to me today,” you said, slipping the milk onto the shelf. “Like—not just a grumble. An actual full sentence. A whole conversation.”

And when you leaned your hip against the fridge door, letting it shut with a gentle thump, he remembered how your voice softened, like a confession.

“Did y’know… he said he’s scared the people he loves will disappear one day?”

It was a memory that ached, but in the best way. Because your strength was in how much you cared. How you saw through silence and soothed without trying. How you gently held Megumi’s fears — like they were precious, not problems to solve.

You were always really fuckin’ good with kids. And it wasn’t long after that moment that he saw a shift. With a deeper kind of softness blooming behind your eyes, wistful and warm.

“Sweetheart?” he’d asked, raising a brow. “What’s with that pout?”

You sat cross-legged on the couch, absently rubbing slow circles into your knee. Blinking up at him with faux innocence.

“Hm? Oh, nothiiiing,” you sighed, way too dramatically. “I just… saw the cutest baby boy at the store today. With these chubby cheeks and the sweetest little laugh and—”

Ah.

There it was. Code for:

I want a baby. You fuckin’ idiot.

And god, Satoru wanted to give you exactly that.

All these memories. All these moments. It’s hard not to imagine the filthy ones too.

“‘Toru,” you whined, eyes glossy. “Please.”

You were bent over the couch, with your panties shoved to the side, your skirt flipped up as he clamped your hips, pummeling into you soaked little cunt roughly.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he rasped, voice shredded, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades. His belt was hanging open, clanking as he molded his cock against your hot, wet walls. “Take it baby. Mnh… look at that, my pretty little cock drunk girl.”

He was huffing, smacking his hips in lustful need as he watched your ass clap back, while you squirmed and wiggled, clawing at the cushions. Each quivering whimper that spilled from your lips, made him pound harder.

Sometimes he’d do that. Sneak off between missions for a quickie. And fuck, what he wouldn’t give to have that right now.

So, by day who-knows-what, Satoru decides: fuck it. He’s gonna rub one out. If he’s stuck in a cube, he might as well get to cum. He lays back on his throne of bones like a king descending into madness, one hand behind his head, the other slipping under his pants.

When his cock springs free, he hisses — hips twitching as it slaps against his stomach, flushed and pulsing, already smeared with thick, gooey strings of pre. He grips the base with a groan, and those vibrant blue eyes flicker, half lidded, cycling through every filthy image he could remember; like flipping through your nudes is his own personal VR porn.

First, it’s you sprawled across his lap in the backseat of the car, with your legs shaking, panties hooked on one ankle as he rolls your tight juicy cunt on his dick; panting, groaning.

“That’s it baby… be good f’me, hah, bounce on it,” he rubs down his flushed length, massaging his palm against the head, smearing his gooey pre everywhere. “Fuck, just like that —”

Then, it’s you with your mouth stretched wide, blinking with those beautiful glossy eyes, as you gag. Drool dribbles down your chin with filthy gurgles, and his ragged groans are shameless as his cock pummels the back of your throat.

“C’mon…” he croons, fucking up into the slick of his fist as he watches. “Just — mmnh — just a little more… lemme see you — gimme that look — yeah, that one — fuck, angel I’m—”

But the first time he’s ready to erupt, he realizes that the Prison Realm is a special kind of cruel.

Because the release never comes. He feels it, but it’s always teetering on the edge. No matter how long Satoru Gojo sits there, rubbing his dick raw, panting, groaning, hunched over in a fucking pocket dimension on a bed of bones, he stuck on the edge. Over and over. Like some cosmic joke that keeps repeating. He keeps trying but…

Nothing.

The realm doesn’t let him sleep. Doesn’t let him starve. Doesn’t let him die.

And apparently?

Doesn’t let him cum.

By now, Satoru’s burned through every memory of you he has.

Every filthy detail you’ve ever let him have — every quivering whimper, every slick glide of your cunt around his fingers, every sweeping circle of that cute little tongue. The first time you sucked him off in his office. That night you rode him while he filed his paperwork. The time he bent you over the sink after a mission, babbling through tears of pleasure as he pounded you.

He’s rewound them all. Played them back. Replayed the replays. But still… nothing. No matter how achingly close he gets. So, he’s decided he’d try to release his frustration in… other ways?

That’s when he started working out. Not to grow stronger. Not for discipline. Not even to pass the time. But to hurt. To punish his shitty ass body for its refusal for release. For its denial. Because splitting his muscles open and rebuilding them through the pain, felt better than this gnawing ache that won’t fade.

He did push-ups until his arms shook. Sit-ups until he saw stars. Threw punches until his skin cracked and his breath rasped like he’s was trying to exorcise that filthy desperation from his lungs.

It didn’t fucking work though. He still woke up, hard and aching, leaking over his waistband like a fucking teenager, with his hips grinding into the air like he’s chasing your phantom weight — like his cock remembers the rhythm even if his fist can’t bring him over the edge.

It’s maddening. But maybe… if he breaks his body enough. If he endures enough pain. Maybe he can break this curse.

Break free.

Or maybe — he thinks, as he shakes blood off his curled fist — maybe he just wants to break someone for putting him in here in the first place.

The day Satoru was released from the prison realm, was disorienting. He almost forgot what it felt like to be whole again. Because when Jacob’s Ladder cracked like God had finally blinked — in the first time since forever, Satoru Gojo breathed.

But honestly? The second he was confronted with his obligations for war, he didn’t give a shit. Call him selfish, maybe. He knew he should’ve cared about the state of the world that kept turning without him, or about the battle raging across the broken remains of his comrade’s devastation.

But you are his strength. And that’s all he needs. All he wants.

What did he miss? Were you safe? Were you whole? Were you still waiting, alone in that house?

He postponed his confrontation with Sukuna and Kenjaku, because quite honestly, he didn’t have the fucking patience. So, without another wasted moment, he folded the space around him and teleported directly home. And the moment his feet touched that familiar tile, his senses were flooded with a sweetness so thick, it was borderline suffocating.

A bomb made of confectionery detonated at ground fucking zero in your kitchen. Mixing bowls crusted with dried batter, cooling racks crowding the counters. Flour was dusted everywhere, like snowfall that had never been cleaned up.

His throat tightened as his six-eyes scanned the scene.

You must have been terrified. Burying yourself in all this sugar that you can’t even fucking eat.

“Baby?” he called, voice rough, almost disbelieving. “Where are you?”

When he was met with silence, he began moving through the hallway, slowly, like any sudden motion might shatter the fragile illusion that this was real. And the house felt painfully lived-in — with your favorite blanket draped over the couch, one of his hoodies thrown across a chair, a cup abandoned on the side table with a faint ring of dried tea at the bottom.

Proof that life had continued without him. Proof that he hadn’t been there for any of it.

His chest ached with a strange, quiet grief, and as he entered the living room, his gaze snagged on your desk, on the calendar pinned above it. There was scribbled notes in your handwriting — reminders, grocery lists, circled dates, little hearts drawn in the margins. The date read:

November 19th.

Nineteen days.

Only nineteen days had passed?!

Inside the Prison Realm, it had felt like centuries. Like he had been buried alive beneath the weight of his own mind for an eternity that had no edges. But… how long did it feel for you?

His eyes lowered to the desk itself — to the open journal resting beside a pen that had rolled onto its side, as if you’d left in a hurry. Your handwriting spilled across the page in looping lines, smudged in places where the ink had blurred. And before hesitating, his trembling fingers turned the page. To read.

November 3rd

Satoru, I don’t know if this is stupid. Shoko said writing might help. Whatever. You’re not dead. I need to start there. Because everyone keeps fucking talking around it like you’re gone, like you’re something we’re supposed to mourn instead of… wait for. And it pisses me off. So, I’m writing this like you’ll read it someday. Because you will. You have to. Um. Everything is chaotic without you around… people are acting like the world is on fire, and it kinda is. But I keep expecting you to walk through that door and say something stupid like… “Wow. You guys made a mess while I was gone, huh?” Anyways. Yuji is… worrying me. He keeps apologizing for things that aren’t his fault. And truthfully, it’s made me want to scream. At everyone. At the elders. At the universe. But… you know I’m not really good at that. I just… wish you were here. I don’t know how to do this without you. Please come home. I love you. xoxo

November 5th

Satoru, I didn’t write yesterday. I meant to. I just… didn’t have anything useful to say. Because everything feels loud and empty at the same time. Home is too quiet without you. A wrong kind of quiet. Like… I’m holding my breath. I mean, I thought I heard your footsteps in the hallway this morning. Stupid, right? You never walk quietly anyway, always stomping around like you own gravity. Or whatever. Anyways. I tried to clean today. But… it feels weird moving your things. Your sunglasses are still on the counter. I don’t want to move them for when you come back and look for them. Because you’re coming back. I know you are. Um. Megumi pretended not to notice when I burned dinner. He ate it anyway. Yuji said it was “smoky” and gave me a thumbs-up like that was supposed to help. They’re sweet boys. And they’re trying really hard. It makes me want to cry and hug them at the same time. But I’m trying not to let people see that I’m on the brink of a break down... especially with them. I’m trying to be strong. Like you. And everyone keeps saying we just need to hold on. So… Come home soon, okay? I love you xoxo

November 7th

Satoru, I baked today. Actually… I baked a lot. Like, an unreasonable amount. I ran out of counter space and had to start stacking things on the windowsill. They came out okay, I think. I wouldn’t know. I didn’t taste them. But I left most of them on the counter for you. Hopefully they’re not stale by the time you get home. I don’t know how long cookies are supposed to last when nobody eats them. You’re usually the one who prevents that problem. Shoko says my stress baking is “a coping mechanism.” And that I need to eat more. I wanted to tell her to mind her fucking business. Not that I’d ever actually say that but… It’s just. Why do people keep acting like you might not come back? Nobody gives a shit. People talk about you like you’re already gone. Or worse… like you were something that got misplaced. A weapon someone dropped in the middle of a battlefield and can’t retrieve. They say things like “losing Gojo was a huge strategic blow” or “we have to adapt without him” or “we can’t rely on that power anymore.” Like you were just… a tool that broke. And it makes me so fucking angry!! I feel sick. You’re not some fucking cursed object. You’re not a goddamn contingency plan. You’re not something they get to deploy and discard when it’s convenient. You’re Satoru. My Satoru. The idiot who leaves wet towels on the bed. The man who eats frosting straight out of the bowl like it’s a perfectly normal dinner. The one who complains about paperwork for forty minutes and then still does it perfectly (on almost no sleep, mind you). God I miss you. Please. Please come home. xoxo

November 19th

Satoru, I haven’t written for a while. And it’s not because I don’t have anything to say… it’s actually the opposite. There’s too much, and none of it feels like it fits inside words. It just sits in my chest like something heavy and wet that won’t dissolve. I’m going to try to convey it now. Hopefully it makes sense. My love. You make everything… lighter. Even when things are awful. Even when the world feels like it’s pressing down so fucking hard, that I can barely breathe. You just… exist. And suddenly breathing is easier. Suddenly, this shitty ass life feels easier. And… I’m realizing now how terrifying that is. Because if you don’t come back… I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to go back to a world where that kind of love doesn’t exist anymore. I worry about what you’re going through. I don’t know if you’re scared or furious or bored or alone. And somehow the not knowing is worse than any specific nightmare I could imagine. You hate being bored more than you hate pain. Hell, you once said boredom was “psychological warfare.” God. I hope you were exaggerating. And great. I’m fucking crying now. Which is extremely annoying, because I told myself I wasn’t going to cry today. Damnit Satoru. Damnit. You’ve saved me in ways you don’t even know. And I don’t care if that sounds dramatic. I don’t care if it sounds weak. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Missing you is the hardest. But I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until my hair goes gray. I’ll wait until everyone else tells me I’m stupid for still believing you’re coming back. So please. Please don’t give up. Please come back to me. Not because the world needs you. But because I do. Call me fucking selfish. I don’t care. I am selfish when it comes to you. I want you here. I want my life back. And my life is you. … Anyway, I should probably go to the grocery store before it gets dark. I’m out of butter and flour and basically everything else because… surprise surprise, I keep baking like a lunatic. There was this recipe I found online yesterday that made me think of you. Something called Chocolate Lasagna? Honestly, reading it made my teeth hurt. You’d love it. You’d probably eat half the batter before it made it into the oven. I love you. xoxo

“Satoru…?”

Your voice echoes through the doorway just as Satoru finishes reading your last entry, and when he turns away, there you are. Framed in the kitchen light, eyes wide, grocery bags in hand.

Real.

His breath hitches. “Hey…” he manages, and the blues in his eyes are glossy with tears.

The bags slip from your hands.

And then? You break.

An ugly sob tears out of you, entirely raw as you slam into him, arms wrapping around his neck with bone-deep desperation. He catches you instantly, hauling you up against him so fast your feet barely brush the ground, crushing you to his chest like he plans to never let gravity have you again.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, voice shaking. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” And his lips are moving against your temple, your cheek, your hair — anywhere he can reach.

“You’re real?” you gasp, fingers knotting his hair, making him groan. “Yeah. M’right here, baby.”

Before you can take in another breath, he’s crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy, desperate. With fingers clutching you in a way that feels dizzying; clamping and pulling you in desperation while he molds his hands against your tits, your ass, your hips.

He makes a broken noise into your mouth. “Oh fuck—” And with stumbling steps, your back hits the couch before you realize he’s moving, forcing you down into the cushions as he follows, still kissing you.

“I should—” he pants against your lips, trembling in restrained lust. “I should probably—” he kisses you again, groaning. “Mnh… there’s so much I have to say,” he half-laughs, half-breaks, breath hot against your mouth. “But—”

You yelp as he’s frantically yanking your pants down your hips, along with your panties, before spreading your legs open on the couch.

“I really fucking need you right now.”

Pushing up on your elbows, your chest heaves, and for the first time since he shoved you down, you actually look at him. His build is… thicker. Has he been working out? And his fingers are dragging up and down your thighs reverently, in a shaky, absent motion, while he’s staring down at your cunt with heavy lidded eyes likes its fucking salvation.

“…you do?” you whisper. And his eyes flick up. He nods, throat bobbing.

Who are you to deny your husband?

“Okay…” you breathe. “I’m yours.”

“Fuck— yes. Okay.”

He fumbles with his pants, yanking them down, not bothering to fully undress as his cock slaps up, pulsating, flushed, oozing from the tip.

“Sorry baby, but—” leaning over, he spits — a warm, wet line landing between your legs before he grips his cock, dragging through your folds with a strangled groan. “—don’t have—ngh—time to prep, or be gentle today.”

When he shoves it in with eager force, you gasp out a moan. Your cunt clamps tightly around his swollen girth, and his body folds forward, heaving. The sound that tears out of him is part relief, part strained.

“Oh fuck yes,” he moans, pulling back only to pummel in again, prying your slick walls open, watching that tiny hole stretch so sweetly for him. “Fucking missed this perfect little pussy.”

You’re mewing as wet plaps begin to echo, the couch groaning beneath you. Each grind of his hips builds in urgency, while his hands firmly hold you steady at your hips. His breath fans your neck. And—

“M’not—ffuck, not gonna last…”

You blink. “W-What?!”

That’s when you realize just how fucking desperate your husband was, while he growls, biting down on your neck so hard you moan while his dick erupts. He whimpers against your skin, dick jerking wildly, spurting a thick creamy release, dumping a load so massive, the creampie floods you with full force.

Your thighs are sticky, warm and wet. And in all your years of being with Satoru, you’ve never, never seen him cum so fucking fast. But—

“Fuck. M’so backed up, that’ll probably get you pregnant,” he pants, shoving himself up only to grab your legs and fold you in half. “But let’s be sure of it, hm?”

It’s hard to register his words when he’s pinning you down, prodding your cum filled cunt in an animalistic movement, making the sticky seed bury deeper into your tiny hole, while you squirm beneath him helplessly.

“O-Oh my—” you cry, pussy fluttering as he drills you in loud, squelching motions, huffing and delirious with it. “S-Satoru—” you whimper, as he hovers over you, those thick forearms flexing, abs clenching. “Ahn—"

The blue in his eyes are wild, molten. He drops his forehead against yours, snowy hair falling into your gaze, warm breath fanning your lips as he snaps into you insistently.

“Gonna give you a baby,” he whispers breathlessly between smacks. “That’s what you wanted, yeah? So you’re gonna fuckin’ take it. Now be a good girl and cum on my cock, hm?”

He was insane. And take it, you did. His hand slides down to your puffy clit, rubbing quick little circles against the nub, making your back arch and hands scramble against his broad shoulders, nails digging into the skin, making him groan.

“Ohmygod,” you breathe, “S-Satoru, yes—I’m—”

And the moment your eyes squeeze shut, with that sweet little cunt gripping him tight as you gush your creamy release all over his rigid dick, Satoru’s head throws back in a breathless moan, breaking into a laugh.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl,” he breathes, pounding you. He splays his hand on your tummy, palm flat as he continues to mix your cum together with his hips. His cock bumps it from underneath your skin, bulging your belly as it curves up.

“Haaa—here it comes again baby—” he warns, voice straining, body stiffening as he rails you faster.

It’s desperate. Each rough snap is met with his soft ahhs as he doubles down, his oversensitive cock expanding, twitching against your tight, hot walls until he moans. “Fuckfuckfuck, cumming—!"

And his balls tighten as the tip of his cock spills again, pulsing and spurting with each eager jerk, with hot gooey cum shooting inside your already overstuffed pussy. And your poor, overstimulated cunt can’t take it. This wild desperation, this domination. While he uses you like the relief he needs, dumping load after load into your tiny little hole, flooding you with his seed.

You were definitely getting your baby.

Satoru fucked you for hours.

On the couch. The floor. Against the hallway wall where your back bumped picture frames crooked. Halfway to the bedroom before he lost patience and dragged you down again, like distance itself was unbearable.

You were bent over the table, with his balls slapping against the plush of your ass when he groaned. “Hah… think I’ll give you more of my cum.” Whispering hotly in your ear. “Go on then. Say thank you, baby.”

He was fucking insane.

When his head dropped on your shoulder blades with you on your hands and knees, he broke into a breathless laugh, borderline manic. “Gonna have you waddling around the house,” he drawled, gripping your stomach, holding you firmly, pistoning into you like a toy. “All pretty and round… carrying my baby. Fuck.”

You’ve never seen him like that. Not to this extent, at least. And every time you thought he had finally burned himself out? Nope. He surged back with another wave of urgency. Rougher. Deeper. Like something inside him refused to settle.

“Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine,” he growled, pushing your head into the pillow that was covered in your drool; bullying your cervix with more creamy ropes of cum. “Haaa… thas’ it. My perfect little housewife… takin’ her husband’s cock so well.”

It was a hunger he couldn’t satiate. Like he was clawing back into existence though your warmth alone. And maybe, in his mind, if he stopped—even for a second? He worried you’d vanish. The way everything else had, in that cube of hell.

Because…

Beneath the bruising grip of his hands? Beneath all the breathless kisses, all the broken groans — there was something else. Something raw threaded through him, stripped down to the bone.

Fragile.

“God I love you,” he gasped, mixing his cum is slow rolling thrusts. “Fuck… I love you so much. I…” and with a shuddering breath, his eyes squeezed shut, pained. “I c-can’t lose you. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. Don’t—”

There was a crack in his voice, while his fingers dug at your hips frantically like… he was afraid you might vanish. And it was acutely obvious to you that what this poor man needed, was relief. A relief so intense, it bordered on panic. The strongest man alive, reduced to something so incredibly human. So painfully…

Satoru.

His laughter had always been your sunlight. His strength, your shelter. But it’s your strength that brought him home.

You.

Soft where the world is cruel. Stubborn where it tries to grind you down. Foolish enough to keep loving him even when loving him means standing in the shadows of everything that wants to consume him.

Sweet, perfect you.

And despite it being a sweetness people mistake for fragility, it’s the one thing in this world Satoru would tear heaven and earth apart for, just to protect. The one thing he would crawl back from oblivion for, again and again, no matter the cost.

A sweetness baked into every corner of his life. Warm, and soft.

Worth the wait.

꒰ authors note꒱ @/strychnynegirl my love... i hope i was able to capture all the love you have for our pookie in this fic 💖 it makes me so sad to think about what was goin on in satoru's mind during the prison realm :') and with the new season out, his absence is heavily felt. thank you guys sm for reading. happy valentines day!

[summer-oil-inactive]

contents; suguru geto x fem!reader. age gap (suguru is written with late 30s to early 40s in mind; reader is a university student.) long distance relationship. fluff & smut: afab reader, mostly sweet and gentle sex, though r and suguru are very needy for each other. some hair pulling and implied overstim. light dirty talk. for characterization purposes he wears a condom. + doting aftercare scene wc; 3.1k

commissioned by @toobadkoi !! thank you again for commissioning me !! 🥺💗

"There you are." 

There's a man in front of the door to your apartment, broad-shouldered and tight-jawed: a plastic bag clutched in his palm and blue umbrella tucked between his arm and rib. The milk-blue sky is knitted over with cotton clouds and grayscale watercolour, the air between your bodies reeks of humid asphalt and cut grass. He perks up when he notices you, disheveled as you are from the weather and the day you've had, a warm smile fanning out across his lips. 

Rain patters noisily against the sidewalk behind you. Your eyes widen— brain spinning. Skipping past the last remaining steps of the staircase, his name a heavy weight between your lips.

"Suguru?" 

"Welcome home, honey." He catches you in his embrace, his voice thick at your ear, ripe with longing. Curse him for sounding so effortlessly domestic. "How was your day?"

"Forget my day," you pull back with a bright, unshakeable smile, eager for a proper look at him. You can barely remember what you were so exhausted about. Seminars? Does it matter when he's in front of you, warm to the touch and looking at you like he wants nothing but to press your lips flush against his? "What are you doing here? No, wait— how long have you been waiting here?" you slip on a playful pout. "I would've hurried if you'd told me…"

"Don't you worry," he smooths a palm down your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I don't mind. I wanted it to come as a surprise."

Breathless laughter. You run a hand through your wet hair. "Trust me, it did. Gosh."

This older gentleman is Suguru Geto, your boyfriend of nearly one year. He lives five hours away by car, in an rural town surrounded by thick clusters of cypress and cedar trees, far from the hustle and bustle of the city you've settled down to study in. You met him there on a trip with your friends, and the rest is history. He's the best boyfriend you've had to date: caring and patient, supportive but comfortable in redirecting you when you need it. Obscenely handsome. Obviously. Your age difference was never an issue, because Suguru is always transparent with you, and never treads around speaking candidly.

The single downside is how far he is.

(Of course, the issue came up early. Suguru has roots where he's at. History. A stable line of work. He knows all of the locals by name, is well-loved by all of them. Between the two of you, it's obvious who'd be expected to move. 

Except you don't like that. You don't like that it has to be you, that you'd have to build your life around his just because he's older. 

And neither does he. So, at least for the time being, you're at a standstill.)

But now, he's right in front of you. Greeting you with a sunny smile, smelling lightly of oakwood incense and coconut oil, looking better than ever. Hair tied into a half up-half down bun, white threads gleaming silver in between the ink-black. He never believes you when you tell him they're sexy. Age wears him perfectly.

Hunger stirs in your gut.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he murmurs, leaving a kiss below your ear that really, really isn't helping his case. You're gonna eat him up. "I know you've been stressed lately… I was hoping I could keep you company tonight."

"Why are you apologizing?" you huff. "This was the best thing I could have come back to."

The corners of his eyes soften. They're dog-like, adoring, taking you in. Seconds pass without him speaking. You share a long, weighty look, the patter of rainfall crescendoing behind you: the summer shower is only getting worse. 

"Let's go inside," you hasten, tugging at his bicep. Fishing for keys in your front pocket. 

Your boyfriend follows, cluelessly.

As soon as the door closes behind you, a dull thud echoing down the hall— you pounce. Wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him down to your lips, sticky chapstick tethering you together when you mash them against his. A noise of surprise rasps in his throat, muffled against your mouth, but he's quick to catch himself; falling into your rhythm, parting his lips when you nudge at the seam of them, tongues gliding together in a sloppy, heated waltz. He tastes of pocket mints and need. An arm sneaks around your waist, hefty fingers dipping underneath your shirt to caress the dip of your lower back, causing your trembling frame to press closer. This ache in your chest feels like it'll never go away. Missing him, wanting him, drinking the oxygen straight from his lungs. Both the umbrella and plastic bag clatter on the doormat. 

Your breaths mingle in the dark corner.

When you have to pull away, slack-jawed and doe-eyed, you're met with his swollen lips and molten expression, honey-brown eyes hot with desire. He looks like he could eat you alive like this: cornered, taking a shallow, quiet breath. His cheeks dusted pink with peach fuzz.

But he maintains his composure.

(Age has made him patient, you think. He's always been good at holding back with you. Sometimes it makes you want to push and prod at that part of him— just to see how he'd react. If you could hit on something. Wear him out. He is weak to you; that much you're sure of.)

"… Oh, baby," he's breathless as he speaks, reaching down to pick the plastic bag off the floor. "I almost forgot to give you these."

Inside it is a blue bouquet, hydrangeas paired with clusters of baby's breath. The syrupy scent of rainy season sticks to their petals. He hands them to you with a sweet smile, all-together unfitted for the animalistic need you feel right now, tongue heady with the taste of his saliva, but it still makes your heart bleed. Your boyfriend is something of a flower buff: because of that, you know what they represent. You know about the story of the emperor who gave hydrangeas to his neglected lover, in apology, in repetance. You understand what he's trying to say.

Suguru doesn't just talk to you in words. He speaks to you in actions, expressions, even bouquets. That's part of why you love him. You don't have to look hard to see his care for you.

"… They suit you," he compliments, watching them find home in your arms. 

"Thank you, baby." You give him a kiss on the cheek, struggling not to grin at how pleased he looks. "I'll put them up by the window."

"Good idea. They'll look perfect there."

"Did you bring them from home?"

"I didn't," he shakes his head. "The temple is practically overgrown with them, though. I could have bought a bouquet from Mrs Satsuko, but I didn't want to risk them wilting during the drive. They're sensitive flowers, you know."

"Huh. Are they?"

"Yes." He smiles. "They need cool air and moisture. It's why they bloom so vibrantly when the weather gets like this."

Curiously, you look at the bundle of blossoms in your arms: their petals shaped like fallen stars, the colour of an evening sky. Sucking on a quiet hum. "I'll take good care of them."

…

Silence settles. Then tension returns, even stronger than before— impossible to resist. You bat your lashes, closing in like a coyote.

"Now," you purr. "Where were we?"

Suguru's throat bobs. It's the only tell you get into how much he's holding back, otherwise the picture of composure, your saliva still sticking to his bottom lip. "… Where indeed," he croons. Pulling you closer, and closer, letting you tug him away as you stumble to your bedroom.

Everything else can wait. You need him now. The rest of the world will sort itself out.

You end up straddling his lap, clutching onto his broad shoulders, panties pooled around your ankles as you sink down on his cock. Suguru likes to prepare you thoroughly, with his fingers and tongue and dollops of lube,but the need between your thighs is too great for that kind of patience. He lets you go at the pace you like best. Trusting you to know your limits. The fullness is a comfort, familiar, as much as it strains your pussy to take him to the root— nudging the line of too much, too fast.

Still, you can't help but want all of it. So you take every inch, carefully, from the bulbous head to the curved middle, waiting until you're relaxed enough to sit down fully. Once you've planted yourself on his lap, you pause to take a deep, steadying breath. The stretch burns. Your head spins. Suguru leans in to lick up the drool at the corner of your lip. He's got his palms on either side of your hips, tethering you to the sweltering need between your bodies. 

"Take your time, little one," he murmurs.

It encourages you, if anything.

You start to move. 

He guides you seamlessly, steadily, up and down his condom-clad cock— he slipped it on before you could protest, firm in his choice, more careful with you than you sometimes think is necessary— lips drawn taut around a silent moan. You want to stick your fingers down his throat and pull it out, but you suppose you'll have to do it with your hips instead. "Good girl," he praises, palms slipping underneath your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this." 

The smooth, baritone cords of his voice make you dizzyingly wet: head spinning, slick sticking to his pubes, your feet planted on the mattress to support your pace. Up, down. Up, down. Suguru's thickness is there to welcome you every time, mushroom tip smearing kisses at your cervix. Up, and down. 

A whimper splits your lips.

"I can tell you missed it," he sighs, holding you close, breathing down the side of your neck. It jolts through your fluttering pussy. Something embarrassing scratches at your chest, but you swallow it back down, digging your nails into his shoulders. "You're working it so sloppy."

Knowing him, he means it as a compliment, but it makes your neck burn terribly. He must feel the heat at your cheeks. With a sharp inhale, you flick his hands off your body, sinking down harshly just to hear his breath hitch. You squeeze around him, pointedly.

"Just… lay back," you pant. "No more talking."

Without protest, he does as you say; elbows cushioning his fall, biceps straining deliciously under your watchful gaze. His body is lethal. Firm and muscular, yet softened by age, perfect for resting your head against on days where your thoughts are too turbulent to carry. He hums, eyes flickering with something not quite amused, but endeared, like watching you ride him so desperately is cute to him. It makes you wanna tug at his roots and make him yelp. 

(… Actually, why don't you?)

"Ah—" he sucks on a sharp noise, caught halfway between a moan and a wince, his grip on the sheets tightening like a snare. Desperate, just like you. You watch his throat jump, rosy lips falling open as you get a good grip on his silky black locks, pulling just the way he likes. "Oh, I missed you. I missed you so much, baby." 

Almost unconsciously, you speed up. Raising your hips, then sinking down, using his hair as leverage. The rhythm grows sharper, more purposeful, smacking his pelvis every time you spear yourself open around him. Plap, plap, plap. Sparks firing through your nerve-ends. His balls feel firm underneath you, heavy. 

"A little harder," he encourages, giving your thigh a tender— needy— pat. "I can take it."

"Don't… be greedy," you chastise, out of breath, flushed with heat and trembling. It's a struggle not to stumble on your words; all you're focused on is fucking him, working his cock until you're satisfied. So hungry for him that you feel it like a knot in your stomach. But you listen, tugging harsher, moving your entire body with every loud, slick bounce on his lower abdomen, legs straining with the tempo you've set. 

"Good girl," he moans. There it is. Whatever triumph you feel evaporates under the heat of his hands, coming back to cup your hips, not guiding, only resting. You think of chastising him, but all that leaves your lips is half-whimper, half-whine. "Look at you…"

For a while, he lets you use him. Laid down like a meal with hearts in his eyes, breath hitching around sinful, broken noises, muscles tense and coiled. He reminds you of a tiger. Broad, sharp-eyed, lying in wait. What would that make you— a house cat? Needy and in heat? Playing with his cock like it's yours.

(It is, he told you once. He'd tell you again if you asked. There's no shame there— never was. Only yours. You can have it any time, honey.)

Eventually, when your hips slow to a sluggish grind, exhausted by the effort, the tides begin to shift. Violently, a boat rocked sideways. The band of his patience snaps, your chest pulled flush against his own; his cock pumping in and out of you with steady rolls of his hips, lovingly firm, knocking the mewls out of your mouth. You're being cherished— you know that— but it's intense, sweaty skin slipping against sweaty skin, his pulse thundering through your body, hot like a furnace. Intense enough to make you want to run from it, even though it's all you've been dreaming of for the last two weeks. 

Not that you could— even through the fog in your head and need in your belly, you understand that. Suguru is just as pent up as you are. You're staying right here until you're tuckered out and boneless, no ifs or buts about it. The promise is unsaid, but you feel it in the hold he's got on your body. He's not as harmless as he seems. Not when you need something of him and he's promised to deliver.

Only when you're shaking and writhing around him, wetting his abs with your come, does he focus on his own orgasm. Using you harshly, yet lovingly still, dragging you over his cock. He makes little noise when he gets there, flooding the condom with sticky batches of warmth that you can still feel through the latex, panting at your ear while his palm rubs down your back, like you’re the one coming undone.

Then he lifts you off his lap. Sweat dripping down his brow, a drunken haze over his eyes, fingers hooked against your ribcage. 

"I need to taste you," he pants. Eyes dark with greed, pupils overblown. Gone is the control he keeps such a tight hold of. "On your back, baby."

Your heart beats hotly, foreboding twisting in your belly. Thighs sticking together with slick. Breath stuck in your throat. You almost want to ask for a break, but he's already tied his hair up.

Quietly, you swallow.

He's nowhere near satisfied, is he?

After hours of being ravaged, made love to, held and taken apart and put together again— your bodies finally run out of fuel. 

You're tended to with steady hands, every touch intentional, familiar with the process: cleaned in the shower as you drift in and out of consciousness, floating somewhere underneath the blank slate of your mind, then made to drink from a water bottle to soothe your worn throat. Wrecked. Wrung dry. Cunt buzzing like a livewire. The culprit walks into your bedroom with a hot plate of food, wearing an expression so content you'd think he just came back from a week-long excursion to a hot spring. 

Shameless. Stupidly sexy.

"Can't feel my legs," you whine, sprawled out on the mattress, tucked in like a child. Stretching out your sore limbs with a groan. "God, I needed this."

Warm, rumbling laughter. Suguru walks over to your bedside, wearing nothing but his boxers and a cardigan he'd left behind in your closet, hickies sucked into his neck and collarbone. Your canvas. Sunset kisses smudging skin. "I'm glad to hear it," he croons. "Here you are. Make sure to clean your plate, alright?"

Suguru leans towards quick, easy cooking for your aftercare. This time it's fried rice with plenty of vegetables and thin slices of meat, cooked a perfect golden brown, smelling of sesame oil, soy sauce and ginger paste. Your weary hands reach for it, bringing it to rest on your chest. Warmth spreads through the blanket he wrapped around your shoulders.

"Ahhh—" you sigh, scooping up a pile of rice with the spoon he gave you. "I love you."

One of his palms brush against your cheek, eyes bright with satisfaction. Delighting when you lean into the touch. "I love you too, baby."

Without having to tell him to, Suguru crawls under the covers beside you. Offering his shoulder as a headrest while you eat. The room is coated in a thin sheen of shadow, only lit up by a half-broken lamp by the windowsill. It lulls your mind into a state of docile fatigue. Your body grows softer with every bite, entirely limp once he takes the plate off your hands and puts it on the nightstand. This security is what you like best. Sex with Suguru is mind-breaking in many ways, but this is the most staggering. How ready he is to hold you when it's over, even though he's nearly as tired as you are.

Badump, badump.

Your ear at his heartbeat. His palms at your back, arms around your waist, securing you against him— a shipwreck to his shore. There's nowhere else you'd rather be. Boneless in your boyfriend's embrace, aching terribly between your legs, but only in good ways. Quietly, a pitter-patter rattles at your windowpane, smattering against the glass. 

The world outside your apartment is just as it should be. It's a comfort to listen to, bleeding into the mantra of Suguru's steady pulse.

"When are you leaving?"

He shifts above you, planting a gentle kiss between your brows. It makes your lashes flutter shut. "Not anytime soon," he promises. His voice barely-there, as if he's terrified of startling you. You believe him. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."

…

"Hey, Suguru," you whisper, feeling your mind sink into slumber. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"… Yes, my love."

You nose at his pulsepoint. Burying yourself in him. Murmuring, beneath your breath:

"I missed you."

Suguru stills. His wandering hands, his doting lips, even his rhythmic heartbeat. Before he can respond, your mind grows dull and quiet.

(You'll wake up to covers heady with hints of coconut oil and oakwood, the sweet smell of breakfast wafting from your kitchen through the rest of your apartment, and three good morning kisses from a man who loves you.)

[yasu-1234]

losing your virginity to geto suguru.

pairing: suguru geto x afab reader words: 3,600 contains: oral sex, virginity loss, fingering, and suguru talking you through it. mood: soft, sweet, and tender. author's note: this was one of my favorites to write and i thought i should share it here too! also, let's be friends (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

You wonder what’s so different about this one Sunday morning.

You wake up with Suguru’s body pressed against you from behind. His lean arms wrapped around your torso. His cheek is pressed against the back of your neck, breathing and snoring softly, deeply, down your shoulder.

He holds you as he always does: firmly, as if he was carrying you, and yet gently, as if you were fragile.

This isn’t the first time you woke up in his apartment, and it’s not the first time he ever spooned you in your sleep. Yet somehow your body feels warmer than before, and your skin feels more sensitive to his touch. His sweet and woody scent is heavy and enveloping, lulling you into a dizzying state of comfort. Not quite asleep, but not quite lucid and awake.

You feel him shift from behind you, and you feel something press against the back of your thighs. Something hard and thick and warm. Your legs flinch and your heart starts beating faster as you realize what it was. Suguru wakes up from the slightest tremor in your body. He raises his head to look at you with bleary eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice still deep and gravely from sleep.

You turn your head to meet him and smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry to wake you up.”

He nearly melts at the way you’re nestled comfortably in his bed, in his arms. Your smile looks soft and pretty under the ray of sunlight pouring through the window.

He hugs you tighter and nuzzles his face against your cheek, your neck, “I’m poking you aren’t I? Sorry.”

You blush and laugh softly, “It’s okay. It’s not like you can control it.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

He points his hips away and lies his head back down the pillow. You feel your chest strain and your body ache from the loss of pressure and warmth. You pull his arms closer, tighter, around your torso like a blanket.

Suguru has always been so careful, so respectful. And so attuned with the ways your body reacts to him. He can feel the way your heart is pounding inside your chest as blood rushes from your heart to your skin, warming your entire body. He can hear the way your breath deepens as a strange sensation overcomes you. Heat. Desire. Lust.

Suguru nuzzles against your cheeks once again.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

You lean towards his face, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yes.”

He turns his hips again to press his cock against you. Then he slides his leg in between yours. You didn’t even realize how badly you were aching for him, until he pressed his thigh against your cunt and relief washes over you. You hum in pleasure against the pillow.

“You need me don’t you?” he asks, as your thighs start squeezing and rutting his own, enjoying each pulse of pleasure against your clit.

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation.

“Okay,” he whispers. “We’ll take it slow, okay? You can tell me when to stop… when we’ll keep going…”

He starts moving his hips, grinding his cock languidly against your backside. You start rutting against his thigh in a similar rhythm. His fingers brush your hair to the back of your neck and start kissing an electrifying trail from under your ear to your collarbone, sniffing your scent as he goes. His lips are a bit dry from sleep, but you enjoy the contrast between the roughness of his lips and the softness of his kisses.

He pressed his hand firmly against your chest, grabbing a handful of your breast. Then it wanders down to your stomach, to your hips, to your thigh. It lingers under the hem of your shirt–his shirt. That you wear each time you sleep in his place. You take his wrist and pull it upwards, letting him touch your skin.

“I’m gonna raise your shirt. Is that okay? We’ll use the blanket if you’re cold,” he asks, with that smooth, gentle voice. As if his words are melting on his tongue.

“Okay,” you sigh. He reaches for the blanket pooled by your ankles and pulls it over you. Then he raises your shirt to your armpits and starts caressing your breasts. You shiver from the lightness of his touch.

“You’re so soft,” He sighs, rolling your breasts with a warm hand. He relishes the way your nipples shrivel in his fingertips. “So pretty…”

He pulls you gently by the shoulder, wanting you to face him. Your lips drift towards his. Suguru hums in approval, parting his lips to let your tongue meet him. He rolls over on top of you and lets the bare skin of your torsos press against each other, seeking comfort in the warmth and smoothness of your bodies.

Every kiss and every touch, even the scent of his skin, the taste of his tongue, and the small hums and groans from deep in his chest rushes straight down your spine and to your crotch. You pull away, forming a trail of saliva from your tongue to his. You look between his legs and notice his head peeking from under his waistband. The slit glistening with pre-cum.

“I wanna touch it,” you whisper.

“Please,” he replies, almost immediately. His voice is shaking now.

He takes your wrist and lets you fondle him over the fabric. His sweatpants barely cushion his massive length and girth. You caress him with a light and measuring touch. Sliding your hands up and down his hardening shaft, then cupping his balls, feeling how soft they are in the palm of your hand.

“What do you think?” He asks, smiling at the way you look at his crotch with lust-drunk eyes, your lips parted as you feel him. “Keep touching. Get used to the feeling.”

“It’s… thick,” you whisper with a mix of fear and hunger in your tone. Your hand sinks past his waistband, grabbing his shaft. His head drops down your neck with a hiss. His hips start to move, fucking your closed fist. His skin feels even smoother and thinner against your palm, textured slightly by the soft veins snaking underneath.

“I knew it,” he hisses between gritted teeth. “I knew your hand was gonna feel this good.”

He motions you to sit on your shin while he lies on his back. He pulls his sweatpants down to his thighs, exposing the thick cock laying heavily over his abs. He takes you by the wrist and wraps your hand around the shaft, just underneath the crown.

“Keep playing with it, baby. Make me feel good,” he mutters as he wraps his hand around your fist and starts jacking. Teaching you to his preferred rhythm and grip. “I know you can do it.”

You follow his instructions, gazing into his eyes as you gauge his reaction. His cheeks are flushed deep red, his eyes glazed over as he bites his lips and watch your hand slide up and down. He reaches towards your waistband and sinks his hand under your panties from behind.

You feel his finger slide between your lips.

“Aah!” You whimper and shudder. Your hand stops moving as he glides his finger back and forth against your slick cleft.

He wraps his free hand around yours once again and urges you to keep pumping.

“Try to concentrate,” he says with a gentle tone. “I’m just making sure you stay wet while you’re working on me.”

You nod try your goddamn best. But his fingers just feel so long, so smooth and slick, as he teases your bud with each languid stroke. You knew that Suguru had some experience, but it was only around now that you realized the depth of his skill. You start twitching and throbbing against his finger. Your thighs squeezing his hand to trap him in place.

“So sensitive. Have you ever touched yourself? At least once?” He asks, a playful smile on his face. He seems to be enjoying the way you struggle to stay upright and still.

“Of course I have,” you reply, pouting. “But it feels different when it’s you.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles. “Do you think of me?”

You blush and look away. “I mean, who else do I think about?”

You feel his cock spasm in the palm of your hand. He chuckles softly.

“I think about you too. But this feels better than I imagined.”

He slides a second finger between your lips, now drawing circles on your aching clit. You grunt and whine. The ticklish sensation is too dull, too soft, to relieve the ache building between your legs. You look at him and notice that slight, mischievous slant on the corner of his mouth. He knows he’s torturing you. He’s relishing that starved look in your eyes.

Indignant, you bend down and give a soft lick on the tip of his cock.

“Fuck!” He grunts. His breathing grows heavier as you glide a soft tongue around and around the slit. “Hah… Holy shit.”

“Not so fun when you’re the one being teased, right?” You ask.

Suguru huffs and laughs.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” he replies. “Fuck me up, babe. Make a mess out of me. I wanna beg.”

You bite your lip and smile. Emboldened, you bend down and wrap your lips around the crown of his cock and start coating him with your mouth. Absorbing him, caressing him with your lips and tongue. Suguru groans low, his thighs nearly vibrating underneath your palm as he summons all of his will not to shoot his hips up and gag you with his length.

The taste of his dew drop reminds you of all things honeyed and sweet—ripe mangoes, fresh peach, a drop of caramel, enhanced by the delicate saltiness of his skin. His scent is warmer and smokier like burning wood. And somehow thick and sweet like amber. You dip your head down, wanting to taste more. You want to feel his veins against your tongue, his tip on the roof of your mouth, inching closer to the back of your throat. You suck him with eagerness and hunger that provokes his greed.

“Keep stroking me, baby. Suck the tip and stroke the rest,” he mumbles. “Stroke me while you suck me. Please.”

You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft and start sliding in tandem with your mouth. Suguru groans louder now. The balls of his feet digging and dragging against the mattress. His fingers circle harder on your clit, rewarding you with mutual pleasure.

"Mmph… " You hum as you start rutting against his fingers, and his cock nearly bursts from the vibrations in your throat.

“Oh God, wait. Baby–baby wait. Not so fast,” he gasps, grabbing you by the hair to keep you steady. But you move your head faster anyway, your hand tightening and swiveling around his shaft, wanting to drag him to the edge and lose all control.

“Okay–No–stop, stop, stop,” he pants, pulling you upwards by the scalp. He pries your mouth out of his cock with a wet smack. “Don't make me cum just yet. Not there.”

He sits up and slides you down the bed by the hip, pulling your crotch towards him. Suguru sinks between your legs and pulls your panties to the side, peeking like a chef with his pot. Not only have you soaked through the thin, lacy fabric, he can also see the way your clit and your folds flutter and quiver in anticipation. The feel of his heavy breathing alone is enough to make your hips jump.

“All this for me?” he teases. “I’m touched.”

You bite your thumb and grin towards him. Like a child about to be handed a new toy. Suguru pulls your panties off and starts kissing and nipping the inside of your thighs.

“My turn to take care of you, okay?” he asks, his lips seeking permission, hovering so close to your bud. And when you nod, he dives in. Suguru cycles through several techniques, trying to gauge which one you like best–a wide soft tongue, perhaps small precise licks, hard or soft suckling. And once he finds the right brain-blasting combo his mouth becomes relentless. He spreads your thighs and pins them unto the bed, giving him more access. You grasp, white-knuckled, the pillow underneath you. And you release a low, animalic grunt.

“I know, baby, I know,” he mutters before he dives once again. “Just keep feeling it. Feel good for me, baby. You need to be ready.”

“I am ready,” you plead. Every fiber of your muscle begs for release. Your hips begin to squirm away from him, trying to save your pussy from overstimulation. Suguru had to shift his hands and pin your hips down. “Please just-”

“Not yet,” he cuts off. He reaches upwards to hold two fingers near your mouth. “Spit.”

You look at him, bewildered. He commands you again.

“Spit.”

Reluctant, you gather saliva on your tongue and pour it down his fingers. Suguru sinks back down and starts teasing your entrance. Then he slides a finger. And another. Loosening you up with his lips around your clit.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, as he moves his fingers in and out.

You shake your head, “No. But it feels stretched. Right around the entrance.”

“You need to relax,” he murmurs. “Play with your tits for me, will you?”

You nod and slide your hand on the underside of your breasts, rolling them together, teasing your sensitive nipples. You watch Suguru work his lips and fingers on your core. His hair pooling between your legs. His eyes hazy with love and concentration as he makes a mess out of your cunt. Dribbling all the way down his wrist and chin. Eventually, the stretching sensation fades and you feel softer, more malleable, under his touch.

Suguru sits up and starts jacking his cock. His eyes wander over the flushed and dripping mess of flesh he made out of his own girlfriend. Panting as he imagines his cock driving straight inside you. He leans down and aims his tip between your legs. You flinch and look away in a sudden spike of nervousness.

“No, baby. Hey, look at me,” Suguru says with a soft, low, voice, tilting your face towards him. You look up and meet his gentle, earnest eyes. “I love you, okay? It’s just me. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

He starts kissing your forehead, your lips, your neck, your shoulders. You try to focus on your breathing, drawing on every pleasurable sensation you’ve felt before this moment.

“It’s just a new feeling. You just have to get used to me. You just have to get used to feeling this part of your body.” he whispers, as he starts prodding you with the tip of his cock, coating himself with your fluids. “And once you’ve done it… you’ll crave it again.”

You nod, taking in his words. "Okay. I trust you."

"Good. Good girl."

You grit your teeth and whimper as you feel him enter. He thrusts into you inch-by-inch, pushing and withdrawing and stopping as necessary. It hurts. Then it doesn’t hurt. It’s uncomfortable, and then it’s not. You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to your body, wanting to be crushed by his entire weight. While somehow wanting to push him away. While wanting to strangle him. While wanting to embrace him. To caress him. To scratch him.

He plunges into a place in your body you never realized was there. And more of him keeps coming and coming. Pushing towards an unknown depth you can never reach on your own. But it’s just him. It’s just Suguru. And you know that he’ll always treat you with unrelenting tenderness and soothing. He’ll never hurt you.

You dig your fingers on the back of his neck as you gaze into the ceiling with bleary eyes. Your head spins. You don’t know for how long you’ve been holding your breath. And if he hadn’t held you the way he did, perhaps your soul would have fallen backwards from your body.

“Yes, God, yes. Just take me, please,” he pleads as he kisses your neck. “I’m almost in…”

He leans down and takes your nipple in his mouth. The sudden prick of pleasure drives him further inside of you, all the way in, until he’s buried to the hilt with a long, satisfied groan. Your cunt clenches and quivers, plugged to the stomach by his girth, surprised that you managed to take this much of him.

“Do you feel that? That’s all of me,” he says, caressing your cheek with tender fingers, laughing softly in wonder. “We’re gonna make love. God, I love you.”

He laces his fingers between yours and kisses you deeply. And even the spaces between your fingers are sensitive to his touch.

"I love you too," you whimper. "I'm all yours."

Suguru’s hips start swiveling in circles against yours. Letting you get used to his length and girth. Then he rocks his hips back and forth in slow, shallow strokes. Fucking you with impossible gentleness. Measuring how fast and how hard he can go before you start to hurt again. Like you have all the time in the world. But you bury your face in his neck, biting his shoulder as you take more and more. Soon, you feel even looser, more comfortable, and the pleasure begins to overtake all else.

You start moving your hips in tandem with his.

“Yes, fuck,” he hisses against your neck. “That’s right baby, make love to me. Feel good with me.”

He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against you and nearly driving you towards the headboard. He’s stretching you again, his shaft slicing against your tight entrance. But Suguru angles his cock and jabs a spot underneath your belly that nearly makes you cry. You no longer mind the pain that’s so deliciously mixed with pleasure. And you notice that any coherent thought escapes you, and any words you want to say dies in your throat. You barely have enough air in your lungs to even moan his name. Or any strength in your arms and legs to keep clinging to him. So you simply lie there and feel him. Feel the way he thrusts and sinks into you. Feel his smooth hand on your waist. Feel his breath against your face as he rambles sweet degeneracy into your ear.

“You’re so tight. So fucking tight. Oh, you’re gonna milk me dry,” he mutters under his breath. “A good girl with a good pussy. I’m so fucking lucky.”

You feel the pleasure build from under your belly, on your clit, your nipples. And then you shatter. Your stomach tightens like a board and your body recoils as the pleasure overtakes you. White hot light bursts in front of your eyes and splatter into pinpricks of color. You scream and cry against the crook of his neck. Your pussy clamping around his cock. Suguru hooks his arm under your waist and thrusts even faster; eager to milk himself while you’re still wound up and tight from your orgasm. The pleasure starts to feel rawer, searing like an electric shock. A gradient from pleasure to pain.

“I know baby, I know, just bear with it. Just bear with it for me. I’m so close,” he grunts, face tight from euphoria. “I’m so close, please, let me cum.”

His jaw clenches and you feel a burst of warmth right inside of you. His hips stutter helplessly by the strength of his orgasm. And then it finally stops. He holds still. His hard grunts melt into soft moans and heavy breathing. Together, you hang onto that boneless, satisfied trance; your minds slipping into reverie. His cock stays buried inside of you for moments, but it feels like a part of you now. Even as he slowly pulls away you still feel him under your skin. The feeling of his touch, the warmth of his breath, the weight and thickness of his cock when it dwelled inside you, feels less of a vivid memory. And more of a phantom sensation that will linger for as long as you let it.

Suguru props himself with both elbows and gazes upon you with love and reverence. He plants a tender kiss on your lips.

“Thank you.”

You laugh weakly, “Thank you? ”

He nods. “Yes, thank you. For the memory, for the trust, for the love.”

Suguru brushes your hair away from your forehead and kisses you there. Letting his lips linger. Then you gaze at each other in euphoric wonder. You have melded with him in body and soul. In pleasure and love. Your skins are matted and slick with sweat, and you can feel his semen dripping down between your thighs; the light from the window bears down your heads like halos. You feel anointed and transformed. And your bodies now feel less like a mystery to yourselves and to each other. Everything has changed now. And your relationship with Suguru will never be the same. The memory of your lovemaking will lie in the undercurrent of your every interaction, now that he has untethered a craving inside your minds. That ever-present need to feel this sense of closeness once again.

Suguru nuzzles his face against yours. Holding your bodies completely still as you take a shared breath and bask in the intimacy, in the sacredness, of this moment.

thank you for giving this fanfic a chance! pls excuse me if the grammar, dialogue, choreography, and narration is awkward. english is not my first langauge and a lot of things get lost in translation inside my head. originally posted on ao3 art by m_mifmr on x

[ellaleia]

Sukuna gives you some encouragement towards your insecurities

Mdni heianera!sukuna x post-partum!reader

a/n - i lowkey finished this when watching the new super Mario movie but as well writing freaky stuff is lowkey hard but i really needed to write more dad!sukuna

part 2

“The lord has requested for you to be in his chambers tonight.” Uraume stood by your chamber door with their facial muscles stuck in the same position.

You were sat on top of the silk blankets holding onto your rather large 5 month old son, who was babbling away. You lightly tickled his pudgy stomach which made him laugh. Uraume's mouth formed a small smile before quickly changing.

“Oh Uraume why can’t i spend a night with my upmost adorable son” you buried your neck into his chest making him giggle more.

“You spend most of your time with him. The Lord wants to spend some time with you. A wet nurse and your ladies in waiting will by his side.”  They spoke, factual.

You couldn’t reason with Uraume, you knew the consequences they would shoot something back and it would go back and forth. You’ve done it on multiple occasions.

You sighed pulling up your knees and placing the baby on your thighs as you tickled his stomach more. He was babbling away which made you smile warmly. 

“Do i need to wear something fancy.”

“He has requested robes.”

“Of course”.

The baby interrupted you with a loud laugh which made you laugh too burying your head into his stomach to blow raspberries. 

“The prince is rather active for this time.” Uraume pointed out.

“Apparently he cried when going for his final nap of the day so that wore him out but now hes rather entertained” you looked at Uraume whilst your fingers tickled him.

“It is good to see him so active, the lord will be impressed” you saw a slight smile on their face once more. “You have an hour and a half to be ready and I shall escort you to his chamber.” 

The white haired monk turned to close your chamber doors, which immediately opened with your ladies in waiting with the robes.

What robes did the lord choose? They were colours that suited well with your skin, the fabric was thin. And you knew what that meant. As your ladies were dressing you, your son was sat on the floor. It had been about 4 weeks since he finally learnt how to sit and that made you proud. Oh he looked so cute with all his baby fat and the most beautiful pink curls and similar birthmarks to the father. Everyone was impressed how he was not born with deformities like the father had. He looked normal. Which made the father sigh in relief slightly knowing that society would treat him somewhat normal during his growth instead of him. But his ultimate goal: make him his rightful successor. 

You pulled faces at your son, making his gummy smile appear and eyes grin with innocence. Your ladies in waiting loved him, he was such a pure soul…unlike his father. You were conscious and nerves were seeping through which your ladies noticed.

“My lady, you should not worry.” One of them said.

“What if i am not up to standard and he punishes me by not letting me see my beloved son.” Nerves seeped through your tone.

“Im sure…he will understand” another lady said pausing through her sentence trying to understand.

The chamber door slid open, Uraume was there looking unimpressed.

“Is the lady ready, the lord is loosing patience.”

“But you said an hour and a half.” One of the ladies doing your robes looked panicked slightly.

“Times changed. He wants her now.”

“But we still need to do the other layers of the robes.” Another lady said doing your robes.

“He would not care. Bring her now.” They commanded face as a dissatisfied as ever.

Your ladies did one final check to see if you looked somewhat presentable and the lady attending to your son approached you holding the boy. Grabbing his cheeks to kiss him gently.

“Goodnight my son.” Your voice was soft.

He babbled something back with that smile which melted hearts. You turned to your ladies “make sure my baby boy is ok.” Your face is gentle. They all looked at you and nodded in sync before Uraume took your arm guiding you out the chamber. 

The corridors were dim, candles illuminating the stretch towards the chamber. You both walked in silence. Till reaching the chamber where they slid it open. 

“My lord. She is here.” 

“Good send her in.”  

Uraume led you into the room before bowing. “Have a good night My lord and lady.” They slid the door shut.

You were left in Sukuna’s care now. He laid sprawled on the bed large as ever, only in his silk black robe covering his body as he munched on grapes. His hair draped lazily over his forehead his eyes barely glancing at you before one of his many fingers signaled you to come forth to him. 

So you did walking towards him and sitting beside him on the bed he plucked a two grapes placing it between his brittle fingers placing it near your mouth to eat whilst he ate the other. 

“You have not asked me to come to your chambers. Woman. Why?” He grumbled lazily.

“You can come to me whenever you know.”  You replied quietly as you fiddled with your robes.

He hummed. “And you have not offered your body too.” 

Your face went warm with embarrassment. “You have not asked.” Your voice further muted. 

“You know its an expectation. You succeed fine when you were my concubine.” Two pairs of his ruby eyes stared at you awaiting your response as he bit slowly onto his grape.

“W-Well I have our son to occupy to” you attempted to justify stuttering in between.

“Foolish response. That is why you have ladies and Uraume, to assist the boy.” 

You were warm with embarrassment and nerves now, one of his hands reached for your waist fingers grazing it like finding a key to a puzzle.

“I want to bond as much as possible with my baby. Anything could happen to him..” you lowered your head in slight sadness even imagining the scenario of losing your baby.

“And you think I shall let that happen?” He raised an eyebrow continuing to eat his vine of grapes.

“You can’t escape naturals wrath. But with man, you can.” You Muttered.

That sentence paused Sukuna. He stopped munching on the grapes and looked at you fully. His face looked rather annoyed, his brow furrowed in and eyes clenched. Great you go into his  chambers and already pissed him off.

“You challenge my power woman?” Irritation lurked in his voice he grabbed your face to look at him you looked nervous now trying to dart your eyes away.

“I-im just stating that you can’t overpower nature.”

“I can” he was certain.

“If i could conquer Man i can conquer nature itself.” Sukuna looked at you now arrogant.

It was true. The Tyrant had conquered Man. With the land fearing his name and terrified of his power most definitely he could have rivalled Mother Nature itself. But he chose not too, as Mother Nature rewarded him with his strength and deformities he showed with pride. Sukuna let go of your face scoffing at how you viewed him as weak. You could feel tears start to well in your eyes. Lowering your head once more to not let him see.

“Besides I know the reason why you have been avoiding pleasuring me.” He looked at you lazily once more

You gripped your robes, knocking back your tears. You felt a hand reaching for your waist once more pinching at your skin.

“You think I won't like your body.” He said bluntly.

That was true. You were self conscious of your body post birth. You were happy your son was born healthy. But he was larger than the typical newborn. And with that led to the repercussions of birthing a large baby.

“Why do you think i chose such flimsy fabrics.” he spoke mouthful of grapes

“Because you want me to pleasure you?” You played with fabrics.

“That. And I want to see your body.” 

A hand slid to the ribbon tying your robes undoing the perfect bow and removing it from its placement your eyes wondered the large body before you. He was staring at the painting opposite whilst eating a grape and basically stripping you.

The ribbon fell onto the floor, before he shifted his whole body to laying down, beneath the expensive blankets. His eyes darted to your figure before he patted his abdomen signalling you to sit on him. You crawled to Sukuna’s body hooking your legs across the width of his abdomen. His lower arms positioned your legs whilst his other two arms began to slide off the first layer of fabric.

“Since you won’t strip voluntarily i shall do it.” He muttered.

Your face was still warm with embarrassment feeling his bitter fingers slide against the thin fabric as one layer was taken off to a much thinner layer under it. Sukuna could see your nipples start to harden which sent a signal to his below. You saw his eyes linger around your chest and as embarrassment completely took over your body you pressed your arms against your chest to prevent him to see. A loud sigh came from Sukuna, his face growing uninterested. 

“Woman, why are you so ashamed of me for seeing your body?” He asked slightly uninterested.

“Because” you faced away from him, face warm with nerves and embarrassment.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow at you awaiting an answer, you could see his face start ticking like a bomb exploding from annoyance and you knew Sukuna’s antics. He was definitely not a man of patience. Some of his former concubines were stricken with how to please such an unpleaseable man. Could he even be pleased if violence wasn’t involved? The answer is that the concubines spent so much time thinking of the answer that Sukuna got bored and no one knows what happened to them. 

“Well, I don't have all night, you did not act like this as a concubine” his voice was trickling with annoyance now. That bomb was going off.

“Because being a concubine was different, it was more.” You attempted to explain.

“More what?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow.

“More you know pleasuable.. i dont know if i could give you that same pleasure with my body, it is not the same as it once was.” You finally admitted guilt filled your voice.

“Then prove it to me” He replied bluntly as his fingers tracing the rim of your robes until locking into the fabric opening it slightly.

You tried to grip onto his hands but his crimson eyes glared right at you telling you not to dare try what your mind was telling you too. He began to pull your robe down splitting it open, your chest gaining goosebumps from being exposed. The robe fell from your chest revealing your breasts. Sukuna’s eyes lingered around them feeling the electrifying pulse shoot below once more as he pushed it down further now revealing your full torso stopping by your fruit.

Your body was now softer and full then before pregnancy. Stretch marks that lined on your upper hips, to your much fuller breasts swollen with milk nipples darker than before. And pudge on your belly that refused to move. You changed. And you were conscious about it. One of his fingers traced throughout your body making you flinch slightly. You covered your chest once more looking away from him.

“And you were worried?” He questioned 

You looked at him stunned whilst he was dissatisfied of your he deems dramatic reaction.

“You are fine with it..?” You asked flustered.

you heard a loud groan from Sukuna till he had quickly switched positions so you laid beneath the body as he removed the last robe finally for you to be properly nude. Your naked body. He could clearly see the clear changes in your body. The softer thighs inked with faint stretch marks, a deep line on the skin near your womb where the baby grew. Sukuna observed and you were nervous. Downright nervous. Fingers traced around your thighs his eyes lowered looking at your body.

“You look better fuller, more meat.” He bluntly said.

You looked at him flustered “what..”

“You heard what i said”  his lashes fluttered to you.

Sukuna, admitted that your post partum body looked better then before. And you were most afraid of him even liking your body. Before your pregnancy you had your desired body. But now it was gone, replaced with marks and scars you desperately tried to hide consciously. They ruined your skin. Tears began to well in your eyes in awe of his consideration covering your eyes with your hands. Sukuna sighed once more.

“You are a pathetic woman.”  He muttered 

Sukuna leaned his body to kiss your’s tasting the salt in your tears that fell when escaping. Tongues intertwining your legs wrapping around his waist and hands snuggled at his jaw, his lower arms were attempting to remove his single robe whilst his others roamed your body tracing each stretch mark one by one along your thighs to hips. It made you jolt slightly at his rough touch on your skin, you could feel yourself start to drip from how suddenly soft Sukuna was being. 

“Think of these as battle scars.” He muttered hands now kneading at your hips.

“Battle scars..?” You questioned 

“Your birth to my son,was it not hard?” 

“I was in labour for a while.” You murmured.

“And yet you hide yourself?” 

His fingers traced around your skin he could see the insecurity in your eyes as he observed your nude body, flushed with warm and inner thighs spotting with wetness. He put his hand between your thighs to spread them open whilst his robes slid off his body. Those muscles dotted with inked symmetry that you adored so much, until now you realised that he had recovered scars some fading to his skin and others discoloured dotted around his limbs. It fell towards his torso and his stomach mouth which wasn’t moving. 

“The mouth, why isn’t it moving..” 

“I do not need its use for tonight.” 

“But.” 

“Hush woman” 

His fingers began to circle around your entrance, feeling the moisture it was secreting, feeling the roughness onto your squishy entrance. Sukuna moved his fingers to your clit rubbing one on it with enough pressure to make you moan gently. Your legs started to stutter but he ignored them pushing down to you to kiss you once more. Your tongue’s swirling once more, feeling him explore all off your new self. More pressure was applied to your clit, the type of pressure that made you moan loudly through your kiss.

Sukuna leaned back, breaking the kiss, his fingers now inside of your cunt stroking its walls, whilst his thumb was rubbing your clit. The sensation made you start to tear up, facing your head away from his moaning loud onto the pillow resting your head.

“I-its senstive..” you whined through your moans 

“Of course it would be, no one has touched your lone cunt. And I assume you haven’t touched it yourself…how upsetting. ” he chuckled. You felt your face heat once more with embarrassment 

Sukuna’s fingers curled in your pussy making your back slightly lift off the soft fabrics beneath you. He leaned in once more silencing your audible moans with a kiss, slow and deliberate he slid his tongue through your moist mouth, filling the space within.

An orgasm was creeping through your system with his mouth against yours and fingers dancing in your pussy, it was an overwhelming feeling. Sukuna could sense, breaking the kiss touching your skin slowly feeling your marks once more. 

“This pace…keep going im almost..”  you were rambling on.

A hand made way to your mouth muffling your speech.

“Woman, be quiet i know what you want.” He growled 

His fingers continued to swerve through your walls slightly flicking making you jolt, a wide pressure was building, clit was swollen from his rough touch, your lashes fluttered as your hands made way to his broad back, pressing your nails into his scared skin. You closed your eyes letting your body release the pressure it was so hard to breathe in, with one gush your orgasm flooded the sheets. Your skin was flushed and damp the same with Sukunas. The sounds of your pussy churning stopped only with your breathing. Sukuna was breathing heavily before he chuckled.

“Honesty its amazing how you can cum for me with no issue but can’t show your body.” He pulled his fingers out in the process 

You closed your legs, pussy throbbing with arousal still but your face embarrassed once more. 

“Oh shush” you muttered facing away from him “you feel good thats why”

An eyebrow raised on Sukuna before he took the fingers that swirled in your juices to his tongue as he deliberately licked like he was sucking on an apples juices.

“Mhmm sweet.” He gave a sly grin at you.

You clenched trying to weakly attempt to stop him before he shoved you back down with his two other free arms by your hips, he continued to lick the remaining juices on his fingers.

“You know I have missed your distinct taste.” He rambled on.

You weren’t paying attention as now his two hands that pinned you down were playing with your nipples.

“Y-your filthy you kn-“ your sentence was cut off from a loud gasp.

One of his cocks began to slide inside of you spreading your walls wide whilst his other began to leak precum. Sukuna started to thrust slowly, steadily filling himself in you. You grabbed his shoulders once more, scraping at them, lips being held still by your teeth as you attempted to withstand the sheer girth of his cock. It made you wonder how you could take both before the baby, you did forget how big he was.

“S-so big i cant” you whined tears beginning to fall from your glossy eyes.

“You should be glad i didn’t shove both of them in. I know you can take one.” he rumbled

 leaning into you close to lick your damp chest. His deep pools of blood staring at your sensual state. You noticed him beginning staring at your chest as he continued to thrust, you managed to look down seeing your breasts leaking small streams of milk. They were barely there but Sukuna had noticed.

Your hands moved from his hands to your breasts as you gently squeezed them secreting more milk your eyes glossy as you watched him observing it, even his thrusts slowed down to just watch.

“I think i have enough for the baby..” you muttered slightly nervous knowing what he wanted.

He wasted no time his face lowering your breast sucking on the nipple. Unfortunately he wasn’t as gentle as your son was he was sucking like his life depended on it which made you moan and whimper loudly. His thrusts began to have a rhythm.

“Can’t you suck more gently your going to leave marks.” You moaned through your hands clawing at his shoulders once more.

He lifted his head a trickle of saliva connected his tongue to your deepened nipple. “ I can see why the baby enjoys this”  his pupils blown wide with hunger.

His cock scrapped at your walls his puffy tip tickling your cervix with every thrust, he lowered his head back into your breasts whilst continuing to thrust into you whilst his hands gripped your lower abdomen. The soft skin on your belly was slightly tight with the outline of Sukuna’s cock as he thrusted against your womb.

The room reverberated the sounds of skin to skin and Sukuna’s slurps against your nipple. Once more with so much going on you were heading to another orgasm. Thrust after thrust, a finger reached to your clit rubbing the swollen bud to further intensify your orgasm. 

His mouth disconnected from your nipple, rhythm the same as he leaned in closer like he wanted to hear your moans and yelps.

“Embrace this body of yours” he muttered nibbling on the skin by your neck, damp with sweat

The sounds of his skin clapping against yours filled your ears

Till you looked at him so filled with pleasure. “Imagine what those breasts could do to my cocks.” He sneered at you.

 Thrust to thrust, his cock filled your insides pussy clenching against his weight and he felt it you could see his eyes tense feeling your gummy walls sap him in.

“ ‘kuna cum with me please” you whined, eyes filled with tears his hands trailing against your full hips once more he lifted his head from your neck an eyebrow raising.

“What want another child, are you going to whine about your body being ruined after birth.” He teased.

“I don’t care just please i want to be close with you!!” You exclaimed with a loud moan as he pushed his cock deeper into your engulfing walls.

Sukuna chuckled, his two hands trailed to your back lifting you, your hands back to holding his shoulders digging into his skin, as he thrusted. Clit stimulated by his touch once more you whined, flopping your head back letting loose a loud moan.

“I'm close, I'm close!” You repeated fingers digging into his back. 

Your pussy clamped down into his cock, feeling its throb against your walls and tip hugging your cervix. You let your head fall back as another vocal groan came through, your cunt fully tightening around Sukuna’s cock as sticky fluids secreted from your cunt, covering his shaft in your juices.

Sukuna’s orgasm came through next: he let out a grunt as white ribbons coated your walls filling you of his attraction. The sounds of your damp skin slapping together was replaced with the sounds of your heavy breathing and his hot breath against your next. 

He pulled his cock out of your hole, his cum leaking out of your hole as a whine seeped through your panting mouth. Sukuna flopped down next to you, his hands still trailing your body and milk leaking from your breasts that you quickly wipped off. You looked at his face under the lamplight satisfied and gleaming with sweat still heavily breathing his eyes staring at your hips.

“You haven’t stopped feeling the marks, are they not boring now.” You muttered turning to face him body limp from his large grasp.

“Why would i be bored?”  He glared at you as he pinched your skin

You whined a little before your hands reached to his forearm tracing the veins around them. “I was afraid that you would not like the sight of my new body, maybe find it unpleasurable hence i didn’t visit your chambers and wore more robes” you admitted weakly to your insecurity.

“Your new body is a trophy for birthing my son its more admirable” he muttered. 

You could feel heat rising before you chuckled gently shoving your body to his feeling the sweaty heat radiate of his skin.

“And besides I wouldn’t mind getting you pregnant again if its more of that sweet milk and wider hips” he snorted at you before pinching your nipple.

You giggled once again to his somewhat gentle behaviour before your lids started to melt, feeling a wave of fatigue after being spilt open you snuggled against Sukuna’s chest. He didn’t move your body instead let you lay there pulling your body closer hands still on your waist as you dosed off.

“I’ll tell Uraume in the morning to bring the boy over” he muttered, hands still rubbing your hips.

You hummed tiredly in response.

Silence protruded as you fell asleep with the last thing you heard from the brute was “be proud of your marks.” 

Sukuna would always be a merciless man, but man has some form of mercy that they show and you felt safe with this merciless man. He respected difficult battles. Battles that gave life altering wounds and scars that will make you hide in shame. He will never fully admit it to you he felt proud of you giving birth to his son but in a way Sukuna admiring your post partum body was enough to say he respects you.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!! See you next boos

(testing out with a more simple blog so if yall like this more then)

[capytala]

Bedtime with Suguru

Both of your husbands were at home half of the time, the other half just one of them home. Since they are the 2 strongest sorcerers, they got sent out on missions by themselves on alternating schedules.  When all 3 of you were together, you appreciated every minute. However, you still enjoyed your one on one time with each other as well.  Satoru is currently gone on a month-long mission to Africa, leaving you and Suguru to keep each other company. 

CW: MDNI/ NSFW, p in v, love making, spoon sex, love confession, established relationship/ married couple, unprotected sex, creampie.

WC: 2k

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

After a long day of running errands together and cleaning up the house, you were more than ready to go to sleep. You were first into bed, your body heat already spreading through the cool sheets beneath you. Lying on your right side and curled up. 

Suguru crawled into bed behind you. He curled his left arm around your waist and tugged you in until you were pressed together. Your back flush against his chest and his arm still wrapped around you. His body heat was all consuming and the scent from his eucalyptus body wash was so comforting. 

You moved your body slightly to nuzzle into him further and you felt his cock twitch through his boxers. You still, not meaning to arouse him, but it didn’t take much for you to get your husbands worked up. 

He nestled his face into your neck and took a deep breath in, “You smell good,” he murmured against your skin. 

“So do you,” you replied while lightly pressing your ass into his cock. That elicited another twitch. 

He groaned, “I thought us taking separate showers would help, but god - I still want you, so bad.” He grazed his lips against your skin and it gave you chills. 

“Me too baby, but I’m so tired, I don’t want to get up.” 

“We can have sex like this, then neither of us have to do much work.” He pressed his hips into you to emphasize his growing erection. 

Instead of replying, you reached down to your waist band and tugged your shorts down over your ass. 

“Fuck,” he growled into your neck. 

He yanked your shorts down until they were at your knees and snaked his hand between your thighs. His mouth moved directly behind your ear and just his breathing had you moaning his name. You pressed your ass back into his throbbing cock again and that stole his breath. 

You parted your legs to give his hand more room. He slid his middle finger through your slippery center, “Y/N, how are you already wet?” The way he asked with genuine surprise had you embarrassed. You had barely touched each other and your body was already getting ready for him. 

You sneaked your arm under his to reach behind you and squeeze it between your pressed bodies. You grabbed a handful of him and squeezed lightly, “and how are you already hard?” 

He nipped at your neck with his teeth and plunged his middle finger inside you with ease. His body shuddered at the contact, realizing just how wet you were. You continued palming and fumbling with his clothed cock and balls, making him finger you even faster. 

You retreated your hand from his crotch and brought it to your clit to start rubbing it. 

You could hear the smile on his face while he said, “What? Is my finger not enough?” 

“It is.. I just… want you already.” 

"You really want my cock that bad?” 

“Yes!” You gasped out and started squirming with anticipation. 

He removed his middle finger with a dramatically slow withdrawal, “I have to make sure you’re ready for me, I wouldn’t want to hurt my wife.” He kissed your cheek and then plugged 2 fingers back inside. 

You cried out and bucked your hips back into him. He was now pumping his fingers in and out and your walls were fluttering around his long fingers. His whole hand would probably be soaked with your arousal by the time he was done fingering you. 

You removed your hand from your clit and gripped the bedsheets. 

He moved his right arm through the space between your neck and the pillow, bringing his arm around to cage in your chest. His hand rested on your left shoulder while his left hand was stretching you open. 

You instinctively brought both hands up to his sculpted forearm and held on. You started grinding your hips down into his fingers, desperate for more friction. 

He removed his fingers and dragged them up your center. With his hand free, he pulled his shorts down to his knees and started stroking his cock with your arousal. 

He brought his cupped hand in front of your mouth and you didn’t need instructions. You spit into his hand without hesitation. He kissed your neck and praised you, “Good girl, give me a little bit more.” You spit again into his hand, this time pulling all the moisturize from your mouth to give him as much as possible. 

He coated his throbbing cock with your spit and lined up at your entrance. He brought his messy palm to your hip and pulled your hip in to start his descent into you. 

You arched your back and moaned out at the feeling of his tip finally inside you. He kept going at a steady pace and stretched your walls open for him. “Fuck, I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he sighed as he finally bottomed out. 

You giggled and craned your neck around to kiss him. He started moving inside you while your lips stayed connected. His kiss was demanding, claiming every inch of your mouth. When you parted your lips to moan, his tongue licked around your lips. 

He was thrusting at a pace that always left your head spinning. Not too fast, not too slow. It was a rhythm that had you consistently moaning his praises, but it was heart breakingly sensual. You weren’t fucking, you were making love. 

Your head fell back to your pillow while he gripped your left hip and sucked on the skin behind your ear. Hearing his lips work on your skin had you reeling - his breaths, the slurping every time he came off your neck. He was literally drinking you in. 

“Arch your back more and move your ass up some,” he asked while tugging your hips up. 

You complied and the new angle was destroying you. He kept his pace, but deepened his thrusts. Instead of mostly staying inside you, he was unsheathing himself every time he pulled his hips back. 

“Sugu, I might cry if you keep fucking me like this…” you squeaked out. Your cunt was fluttering around him every time he bottomed out now. 

“Why would you cry, my love?” He asked with genuine curiosity while he kissed your cheek. 

“You just feel so good- too good. It’s driving me crazy.” You dropped your forehead to rest against his arm that was still caging you. 

“I want to make you feel good. And for you to know how much I love you, that’s why I’m taking you like this…” he trailed soft kisses across the back of your neck. You clenched violently around him from the pure intimacy between you two. 

He was making love to you like he was trying to get you pregnant; like it was your wedding night and you were both virgins. You were left wondering what got him to this level. You didn’t go out on a date or do anything special, you were just running errands today. 

Whatever the reason was, you were savoring every moment. Every gentle kiss, every deep thrust, every soothing touch on your skin. You were getting high off the rush of endorphins. 

“I love you,” is the only thing you could manage to say. And you didn’t need to say anything else. 

“I love you too,” he emphasized his declaration with a sharp thrust and nip at your neck. 

He brought his left hand up to your breasts and started kneading them with his calloused hands. He was pulling out all the stops to make you combust: whispering in your ear, kissing your neck, playing with your tits. It was too much. 

“You’re fucking perfect, I hope you know that. Everything about you. I swear to god, I was falling in love with you all over again today.” He said with so much sureness, like it was a fact. 

“What-what do you mean?” You were confused by why today had him feeling so head over heels. 

He thrusted fully inside you and stilled. He moved his right arm from your chest and used his hand to turn your head toward him. 

“It was the simplicity of today. Your presence made the most mundane tasks seem like an adventure, just because I was with you. Your laugh stirs my soul, your smile steals a piece of me. I kept reminding myself how lucky we are to have you.” 

You were left speechless at his confession. “Oh Suguru…” is the only thing you could manage to say. In the silence and stillness, you could hear your in sync breaths. You could feel your hearts pounding at the same rate. 

He continued this thrusts, he understood that he stole your words and thoughts with his confession. He didn’t need to hear a response, he just needed to speak the words to you. 

As he got back to his heart achingly deep pace, you were both whimpering and moaning, losing all composure. 

His cock began to lovingly rock into your gspot and your legs were squeezing together at the stimulation, making your cunt even tighter. 

“Oh honey… you’re really squeezing me.” He groaned out.

“Keep going… just like that.” You begged him. You knew it wasn’t going to be much longer before you snapped. 

You started jolting your ass back into his hips, meeting his thrusts, and hitting right into your gspot. 

He could tell exactly where he was hitting and it pulled him close to the edge too. He brought his right hand to the back of your head. He laced his fingers through your hair, directly on your scalp, and gently pulled your head back. 

He now had your back in a perfect arch and was kissing all over the side of your face. 

What could only make this moment better was Satoru being here. You were heart broken at not being able to share this intimate moment with him too. 

“I wish Satoru was here,” you whimpered out. 

“I know, I miss him too. He’ll be home in a week. And then I can make love to both of you, just like this.” He said with a promise. 

The idea of Satoru being here gave you your final push. Imagining Satoru in front of you and them taking turns back and forth: Suguru making love to you from behind and Satoru from the front. Your heart ached at his absence and your pussy throbbed for him too. 

That gradual fire started building in your core, Suguru continued coaxing you closer and closer with his hands and mouth. 

You were mumbling nonsense under your breath. You were so gone and high off this feeling, it was ridiculous. 

Then the massive endorphins release came. Flooding out from your pussy and raking its way through your body. You seized up at the overwhelming release, going still in Suguru's arm. You cried out as it continued to wash over you. 

Suguru nuzzled his face back into your neck and quickened his thrusts. His quickened thrusts made your walls spasm so fast and erratically. He was now falling over the edge with you. “Fuck, I love you,” he recited while he filled your pussy. Each spurt of cum was accompanied by a thrust and a grunt. 

Once he was emptied and you were filled, he stayed inside you. Letting you both catch your breath. When his cock started softening, he gently pulled out. You turned on your back so that you could fully look at him. Your hand came up to his cheek, brushing your thumb there. Your husband was simultaneously hot and beautiful. His hair was pulled back into a loose bun with one thick piece falling across his face. His dark eyes were glassy, as if tears were forming at the edges. You got lost in his eyes, as you did from time to time.

You maintained eye contact for a while, smiling and admiring each other. His forehead leaned down to meet yours, “Have I told you how lucky we are to have you?” 

You laughed, “A few times, yeah.” 

“Good. I need our wife to know how cherished she is.” 

“She knows…” you said and pulled him in for a final kiss. 

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Decided I need to do a short fic this time around.

Can you guys tell I'm a hoe for a good love confession? I blame Bridgerton for that.

Master List

[blueberrycandymuffin]

sweet mornings with fwb!frat!jo and fwb!frat!geto. fluff! too much fluff, really. use of petnames. it's more than just a fwb relationship at this point. implications of sex. based on this request mlist

satoru's bed gets warmer with the rays of the morning fluttering through the windows. it smells sweet, like sex and sweat mixed into the scent of your perfume that permanently lingers on the sheets. you're squinting now, eyes barely open but able to notice the blinding sun past the glass.

the oversized blanket shuffles with the slightest movement, that being your body trying to find a way out from under the unyielding weight of suguru's arm around your waist.

your bare back is pressed against his chest, and his hold is naturally tight, like he's holding a pillow and not a literal human. you're sure that suguru's long, dark hair is tickling some part of your shoulder, but you can't find it in you to shift when he's so peaceful.

you sigh softly, the sound being quiet, but your breath hits satoru's face.

unlike suguru, the white-haired frat boy is right in front of you. so close that his breath mixes with yours. his features, usually pulled into that signature teasing smirk or an amused expression, are now fully relaxed. he looks beautiful. too beautiful.

you don't even realise how long you've been staring at his soft-looking eyelashes.

after a few seconds pass by in quiet admiration, those ice blue eyes flutter open. you freeze under satoru's gaze.

he smiles, sleepy but present, and simply raises a hand to rest it on your hip, lower than where suguru's arm is locked around you.

gently pressing his fingertips into the softness of your skin like it's a habit, he whispers quietly with a deeper, rumbly voice. "feel okay?"

with unnaturally warm skin from being caught staring, you nod without a word. it feels like a dream. some hazy place where assignments or parties can't reach, just you, satoru, and suguru.

satoru's hand moves, very lightly trailing over your side, past suguru's arm, up to your neck and then your cheek bone.

just this once, he allows himself to voice out his real thoughts, his expression turning pensive and softer than you've ever seen before. "...how d'you look so pretty all the time?"

it isn't supposed to hit you that hard. he compliments you all the time— hell, he showers you with them practically every minute of the day. maybe it's the sun hitting his snowy hair or the curve of his strong shoulder, or just his gaze that feels way more tender than it should be.

your lips part slowly, trying to respond but nothing comes out. not even a sassy remark or a soft push to his chest.

he doesn't want a response anyway, so he just silently plays with the strand of hair that slipped past your ear. it's like he knows what his words have done, and doesn't want to face the consequences just yet.

suguru's arm tightens around you for a second. then he shifts, groaning softly from waking up and feeling the end of his blanket bunch up under his legs— he slowly kicks it aside, a bothersome task— and you feel his face hide further into the base of your neck.

your eyes slide shut as soft, chaste kisses are pressed into the warm skin of your upper back, returning up to your shoulder, and suguru lifts his head just enough to briefly rest his chin on your arm, peeking at your soft, smiling expression. "hi, angel."

"hi, sugu," you whisper back.

that little exchange of hi's is your thing now. you're suddenly shy under their watch— slowly moving to lie on your back now, pulling the blanket over your naked chest.

simultaneously, like their brains connected right away, the men prop themselves up on one arm so they can see you closely from each side. satoru's hand doesn't stop playing with your hair and his fingertips run over your scalp in soothing little strokes.

then suguru chuckles. his sweet voice vibrates through your shoulder. "you look like a deer, sweetheart. still not used to us?"

with a quiet huff and your soft bottom lip slightly jutted out, you roll your sleepy eyes, glancing up at the ceiling instead of meeting either pair of eyes. "i'm just not used to being looked at with such.. intensity."

satoru hums in acknowledgement to your response, ducking his head to plant his mouth over your temple, staying there as his voice gets muffled by your sleep-mussed hair. "sorry. want us to stop with that?"

"no."

your response is quick. too quick. they catch on easily, and your eyes flit left and right between the two of them with a mix of curiosity and mild fear. you know you're being sloppy with this whole 'i don't like you guys like that' thing. it's inevitable to hold that up when it's been almost a few months with those two— and their gestures have clearly shifted from seeking fun to intentional affection.

but unlike your expectations, both of them give a short glance at each other and lean back in to kiss your soft cheeks. suguru on one end, satoru on the other. your face feels hot from the gentle way of it all.

"don't worry about changes. not happening anytime soon," suguru whispers, his palm resting on your stomach lightly while satoru's hand travels under the blanket to brush over your ribs— and you melt between the two of them, something warm and sensitive tightening your chest as you allow them to love you.

"you hungry?" satoru speaks against your jaw, leaning back to give your cheek another kiss. he can't stop, not when you look so sweet and so theirs.

"mhm," you nod, eyes slightly glassy from the affection you're pleasantly overwhelmed with, and suguru is the first one to carefully let go of you so that he can leave the bed— gently picking up your bra and placing it on the empty space where he was.

"get up, lazy ass." he smirks, wrapping a hand around satoru's arm and tugging as satoru scowls and playfully swings a pale foot at him. "it's cookin'-for-princess time. let her get fresh."

"will you guys really be ok in the kitchen?" you giggle, slowly watching them stretch their muscular limbs right in front of you like it's a personal show just for your eyes.

admiring satoru's back, you hear him grunt softly as he stretches out his arms. suguru's lean thighs flex when he tugs his sweatpants on, and your gaze softens when you notice that he's tying his dark strands up with your hairtie. "'course we will. we'll do anything for you."

"anything. that also includes coming back to bed if you just ask." satoru grins with that familiar cocky glint in his eyes, flashing you a silly wink.

even with the jokes and laughter that follows them as they leave the bedroom, you know they truly mean it when they say they'll do anything for you.

[whalnut]

who said vanilla sex with gojo can't be kinky? ☆

gojo's private residence is different from anywhere else you've seen him. here, without the audience, without the need to perform, he's softer. real.

"come here, baby," he says, pulling you onto his lap on the couch. his kiss is slow, sensual, taking his time to explore your mouth.

his hands slide under your shirt, warm against your skin. "want to take my time with you tonight," he murmurs against your lips. "want to worship every inch of you."

he undresses you slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to each new bit of exposed skin. when you're naked, he lays you back on the couch, settling between your legs.

"so beautiful, love," he says, running his hands up your thighs. "let me make you feel good."

his mouth finds your pussy, and he licks through your folds with languid strokes. there's no rush, just pure pleasure as he explores you with his tongue. he circles your clit, sucks it gently, then pushes his tongue inside you.

"satoru," you moan, threading your fingers through his white hair.

he hums against you, the vibration making you shiver. he adds two fingers, curling them inside your pussy while his mouth works your clit. the combination is devastating, and your orgasm builds slowly, intensely.

when you come, it's like waves washing over you, and he works you through every pulse of pleasure.

he kisses his way up your body, and you taste yourself on his lips. "your turn," you whisper, pushing him back.

you take your time exploring his body—his defined abs, his strong thighs, before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. he's hard and thick, and when you take him in your mouth, he groans.

"fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good."

you work him with your tongue, taking him as deep as you can. his hand rests gently in your hair, not controlling, just connecting. when you pull off, he's breathing hard.

"need to be inside you," he says, pulling you up to straddle him.

you sink down onto his cock slowly, both of you moaning as he fills your pussy inch by inch. when he's fully seated, you pause, savoring the fullness.

"you feel perfect," he breathes, hands on your hips. "absolutely perfect, love."

you start to move, rolling your hips, and his head falls back against the couch. the angle lets him hit deep inside you, and you set a slow, sensual pace.

"that's it, baby. take what you need. use my cock."

his hands roam your body—cupping your breasts, sliding down to where you're joined, rubbing your clit. the intimacy of it, the way he looks at you like you're everything, makes this different from any other time.

"satoru, i'm close," you gasp, moving faster.

"me too, love. come with me."

he thrusts up to meet your movements, and the added friction sends you over the edge. your pussy clenches around his cock as you come, and he follows immediately, filling you with his cum as he pulls you down for a deep kiss.

you collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, holding you close.

"love you so much, baby," he whispers into your hair.

"love you too," you reply, pressing a kiss over his heart.

in this private moment, he's not the strongest sorcerer. he's just yours.

©2026 whalnut

[sluttyangel04]

18+ cockwarming with satoru gone wrong

it’s in the middle of the night when satoru has you pinned against the warmth of his body, bare chest pressing against your back.

“pleasee, darling— just.. let me fuck you,” he whimpers into your ear, emphasizing his request by giving you a mean thrust of his hips.

his hardened length is nestled between your slick pussy lips right now. it’s rubbing on your clit so you can’t help it that some moans escape you.

the whole point of this was to just get you wet enough, so that satoru could slide his dick into you. he’d been so adamant about wanting to sleep with his dick buried inside you and today you finally said yes. but now? he’s too pussy drunk to even think straight.

“stop.. seriously satoru– I am not gonna agree another time if you mess this up,” your voice rings out harsher than you intend it to and he pouts, stopping his act on trying to demolish you with his cock.

instead, his hand wraps around the shaft of it and a second later you feel the head press against your entrance. it’s slick from satorus earlier mission to get you all soaked —which totally worked out for him. that said, his cock slides in easily, splitting you open just for him.

oh god

for someone who was so serious a second ago, the shaky gasp that comes out of your mouth sounds a little too needy for satorus liking. he’s grabbing your hips to pull you closer and in an instant he’s completely bottoming out with a low grunt against your neck.

your walls noticeably clench around his cock and you need to bite back a whimper with how full you are. god, how are you gonna survive the night?

both your breaths quicken and for some moments there’s only that filling the otherwise silent room.

and then there’s satoru squeezing your body tightly against his. he‘s probably trying to ground himself before he does anything stupid.

“we should.. sleep,” you manage to rasp out and try to actually relax in bed. but satoru is squeezing you so tight it’s impossible.

“satoru—“

“—I can’t do this anymore,” satoru whimpers out loud. his breath is ghosting over your neck and if it weren’t already for how devastated he sounds (which got you all worked up btw), you would’ve given him everything he wanted at latest now.

no time to answer, protest or react in any way; he pulls away from you, dick sliding almost all the way out. just to pound back into you with a hard thrust.

“satoru!–“ a deep groan makes it’s way out of his throat and you can’t bite back the guttural sound that leaves yours too. satoru starts to thrust into you with a punishing pace and you turn into a mess. eyes are rolling, head thrown back and pathetic moans spill out of you.

clap!, clap!, clap!

it’s nasty. the way his balls slap against you with every hard thrust, echoing through the room. and the air reeks of sex.

he’s not slowing down, ruining you entirely and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t do anything about it.

“fuck– fuuck! satoru—“ that’s all he’s hearing and it’s enough to spur him on even more. you’re close and it can’t be overlooked with the way your body’s shaking beneath him.

you’re a moaning and trembling wreck, trying to hold onto the bed sheets for good. though, it’s not helping you with the way satoru is ruining you. he himself is way too far gone, somewhere else in his head. all he sees right now is your pretty pussy wanting to get demolished by him.

his thrusts are getting messier with every pound. he’s close too. but he’s not letting that stop him.

his breathing turns hoarse and he’s grunting a lot. fuck, if that’s not hot.

“hmmpf– sato! ‘m c-close! hah— ! I-I’m gonna.. s-shiit,” your eyes roll back once again and a pathetic moan rips it’s way out of your lungs. you’re loud. you’re moaning his name over and over while you’re coming all around his cock and your walls squeeze him so hard as your orgasm wrecks your whole body.

“fuuuck– babe!—“ satoru isn’t spared by your orgasm. he’s groaning and whimpering as your walls squeeze him so bad that his own orgasm crashes through him right after you. spurts of his cum fill you up, so much that it’s already leaking out the sides.

he’s throwing his head back and grinding his hips into you like a mad man. riding both your orgasms out and pumping his seed back into you.

completely done, you both collapse onto the bed sheets then to try and calm your breathing.

finally relaxed you turn your head to satoru who’s still nestled deep inside of you. he’s running a hand through the sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and laughs nervously.

“phuu— that was something. but don’t worry darling, we can go to sleep now.” he grins as he tugs you against his chest again, cuddling you with his dick still buried deep and not making any attempts to pull out.

oh, fuck him.

guess satoru got his cockwarming after all.

all rights reserved ©sluttyangel04 - do not copy, translate, plagiarize or feed my work into ai.

like my work? find more of my writings here !

tags: @mrskamikazekaito @nanashutiao

[suguruss1ut]

kiss his scars

tags: mild angst, unprotected piv, oral(m!rec.), dacryphillia if you squint, creampie, kinda hurt/confort—satoru is insecure with his scars, reader offers him reassurance. this is my most tame fic yet lol. 《 dividers by @/pixopix 》

pairing: post shinjuku/scar!jo x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

the scars on satoru's body went beneath his skin and etched into his very soul. his usual cheerful personality had been replaced by something more hesitant, more shut off to the rest of the world.

most people would overlook it easily, the way his smile no longer reached his ears, how his laugh wasn't as bright or even the sudden lack of short sleeves in his closet. satoru was the type to look in the mirror twenty times before leaving the house, making sure he looked as dashing as he felt, but now his reflection shied away from any reflective surface.

things had mostly returned to how they used to be, he would put on his uniform, blindfold, and go to the school, continue to be the role model for the young sorcerers, continue being the strongest, because that's who he's meant to be, right ?

but when the doors would close, and he would return to the warmth of your shared apartment, his eyes would still hesitate to find yours, and his battle-hardened skin would no longer feel worthy of your gentle touch.

the nights you once spent talking until you drifted into slumber had turned to casual chatter, silence even, drifting off to sleep in the reserved embrace of his fully clothed body.

the soft moonlight pierced through the gaps of the curtains as you were lying in bed next to satoru, one leg thrown over his, while your arm lay atop his chest. your gaze was fixed upon his face, taking in the appearance of how his delicate lashes rested above his scarred cheeks, how his nostrils slightly flared, and his chest heaved when he would breathe in.

you could tell he wasn't sleeping, and it hurt you to see him like this. the lack of closure in his touch, the distance in his demeanor. shattered walls built to the skies.

"satoru," your voice was akin to silk as you spoke his name, caressing his jaw with your thumb, "look at me."

his gaze befell upon you, breathtaking sapphire eyes looking into yours, half lidded. even in the darkness of the room, the faint quiver in his lip did not go unnoticed by you as he held onto your arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"tell me what's wrong," you felt his chest cave as you spoke, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. his eyes closed before speaking, the slight knit in his brow softening.

"i–i don't feel the same anymore," satoru expressed, "did i really win, when i came out like... this?" his eyes trailed along his body at the countless scars painting his skin, hidden away from the rest of the world by long sleeves and fabric.

a constant reminder that he might not be as strong as everyone else believes he is.

he leaned into your touch as you cradled his face in your hands, a soft tilt in your head when you spoke again.

"it's okay to not be the strongest all the time," his eyes found yours again, hesitant, "but you were the strongest in that fight. and you still are the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on. then, now, and always," you reassured, tracing your fingers over the scars on his face.

"i will always love you, satoru," you promised, closing the gap between you, pressing your forehead to his.

"i love you," satoru sniffled, feeling fused together with you in your closeness.

satoru melted into your touch as soon as your lips touched his, your mouths merging in something more than just a kiss– but a moment of true intimacy, where time didn't feel like it existed, just the two of you.

his arms wrapped around your waist as you straddled him, pulling you close to his chest as your breaths combined together, your hearts beating in sync, one for the other.

you hand tangles in his snowy hair, brushing it back with your fingers. he leaned into you as you broke the kiss, eyes glassy and brows tented, like he needed it to last longer, forever even.

instead, you close the distance again, pressing a featherlight kiss to his scarred cheek, and then the other, as well as a tender peck to his nose, and another on the corner of his lips.

his breath hitched as you went over every scar on his face. the gentle touch on your lips soothed the stinging pain that cut through his skin before, and healing even deeper than that, the parts that not even his reverse cursed technique could fix.

your lips travelled lower down his body, velvet kisses that wandered down his jaw and neck, each one a reminder of all the times you told him "i love you", a promise that you'd die for before you'd break.

your hands slipped underneath the sweater he had on, exploring across his abdomen like you discovered him for the first time. you slowly lifted the fabric higher, giving yourself more space as you pressed your lips to each scar etched onto his body.

you watch him through hung lashes only to see the moisture starting to gather at his eyes, fingers digging into the sheets as he followed your every movement, in awe and disbelief almost. does he really deserve you?

your chest pressed to his lower half as you scattered kisses over his abs, the outline of his half-hard length made itself more known with each reassuring touch of your lips.

the pads of your fingers traced over his skin, sending waves of ardour that made satoru's heart beat faster.

his breath caught in his throat as your mouth ghosted over the waistband of his baggy sweatpants. the tent in his slacks growing more visible when you pressed your lips to him, right below his navel.

"please–" satoru whispered, his head buried into the pillow.

you teased the waistband with your fingers, slipping them underneath it as you palmed him through the fabric, making him twitch under your hand.

his cock slapped against his abs as you dragged down the fabric, pearly beads of arousal already gathering at his slit. your lips parted, leaving open-mouthed kisses to his flushed head as the warm taste of him melts on your tongue.

a quiet pant fell from satoru's lips as you licked up the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, fingers gripping harder onto the sheets when you pushed it deeper into your mouth.

you looked up at him as you hollowed your cheeks around him, only to see his bright sapphire eyes already fixed upon you. your tongue flattened against him, moving slowly on his length, twisting your head slightly as you pumped him into your mouth.

satoru's eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, his body lax as if you sucked away each worry troubling him. his legs occasionally twitching around the sides of your head as you took him deeper into your mouth.

"always so good to me, sweetheart, fuck–," he whimpered, feeling you relax your throat, allowing him to enter even deeper. you breathed to your nose, keeping him buried for a few seconds before you started to constrict around him, making him moan as he felt himself being squeezed into the depth of your mouth.

spit gathered at the base as you used one hand to pump the part that didn't fit, and using the other to cup his balls. you kept your pace, slowly sinking onto his length with your lips wrapped around him, the whimpers and praises falling from his lips only getting louder.

before satoru could reach his high, he pulled you back onto him, holding your flushed face in his hands and reuniting your lips with his.

"need you," satoru pleaded, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. you followed his pace, your lips moving with his more feverishly than before.

you're tugging your shorts down, quickly unmounting him to slip them off along with your top, and letting him do the same. your body feels hot, needing him just as much as he needs you.

"i'm here, toru, i'm yours," you breathed into his neck, straddling him again. but this time, skin to skin, no barriers between you. enveloped only by a love so raw, so real, that was able to tear through his infinity even.

you grabbed his cock and skimmed it over your glistening slit, your mixed slick making it slide easily between your folds.

"hah–don't tease, please," satoru mouthed.

heat pooled in your belly at his pleas, you needed him inside you just as bad, have him fill your senses.

"fuck, satoru–," you moaned against his mouth as you slowly sank down on his length. your arms were on either side of his head, fingers knotted into his hair as he pulled you closer to him, calloused hands wrapped around your waist.

the pads of his fingers traced along your skin, carefully, almost as if he was scared you'd break under his touch, like most things did.

a soft gasp broke through his lips by the time he bottomed out, a soft sheen of sweat coats his forehead as he soaks in your dazing warmth.

with a shaky breath, you begin riding him, clit pressing against his pelvis with each deliberate roll of your hips. buried so deep inside you, yet no amount of closeness would ever feel like it's enough.

satoru touched you like you were the last real thing left in his world, looked at you so closely as if to memorise your every feature, taking you in like he was scared there was no tomorrow.

"y–you're the only reason i was strong enough to come back from that fight," satoru confessed between shallow breaths, and your throat suddenly felt tight, heat blooming on your cheeks.

you wanted to say something, anything... but no words were coming out. instead, you cupped his face with one hand, and pressed your forehead to his. satoru was always able to ground you, and now you needed him more than ever, his touch, his presence; as did he.

your worlds oribited around one another, until eventually becoming one.

"i love you, so much–," satoru hiccuped, and you opened your burning eyes only to be met with the wet streaks left by the tears falling down his rosy cheeks.

your breath got caught in your throat at the sight, his pillowy lips quivered as he looked at you through snowy lashes, now clumped together with wetness.

without thinking thoroughly, you leaned forward again, but this time your lips pressed to his flushed cheek, letting the salty taste of his tears melt on your tongue.

"i love you, too, s'toru–" you expressed, a faint whine falling from your damp lips.

the pace of your hips quickened, rolling languidly into him, grinding your weeping cunt against him as your legs began to shake, overwhelmed by pleasure and soreness.

satoru's arms are caging you in, holding you tight against him as his hips begin slamming into you from below. your head nestles in the crook of his neck, the essence of him filling your senses, intoxicating you.

your tits are pressed flush against his chest, bodies so close you almost feel eachother's heartbeats pummeling beneath your ribcage.

"love you–so much, don't deserve you," the affection in satoru's voice is laced with desperation, each urgent thrust into your dripping heat was proof of that. burying himself in you as if being skin-to-skin wasn't enough.

"'m yours, satoru–i love you," you mumbled into his neck, lips brushing against his skin. you're aching for him, the air being knocked out of your lungs every time his cock nudges that sensitive spot inside you.

you force yourself to place all the little power you have left into your arms, hovering over him again. you get lost in his eyes once more, like so many times before. the tips of your noses touch, lips grazing one another as quiet praises and i love yous fall from your mouths.

he pushes you to the brink of your climax, muscles taut as your high comes crashing over you in waves of ecstasy, leaving your body writhing over his.

satoru's eyes never leave yours as he continues to drag out your orgasm until helpless moans are breaking off your lips and tears start to gather at your lash line.

"so beautiful–hah–fuck, 'm gonna cum–," satoru babbled, voice raw as he clung to you. strong arms are wrapped around your sides and back as the pace of his thrusts begins to falter, the way your walls squeeze and suck him in makes him follow right after.

"need to be inside you, sweetheart," satoru moaned as his hands fell to your hips, holding you down. you felt his cock pulse inside you, filling your womb with hot sprouts of cum. thrusts are lazy by now, only making an effort to push back the mixed arousal that was dripping out of your sopping hole.

"just, just a little longer, please," he whispered, your foreheads pressed together as the creamy cum leaked around his base.

"as long as you need, 'toru, i'm here," your voice was soft, like a feather caressing his wounded soul. a melody he has helplessly been entranced by, one he would pray he'd hear for the rest of his life.

when he kissed you again, it felt like home, filled by the warmth of your love he had longed for for so long. you were his missing piece, as he was yours; you completed eachother in a harmony only shown in hopes and dreams.

[indiewritesxoxo]

how to baby trap marry your best friend!

best friend or baby daddy, one thing's for sure, you're not getting rid of him!

pairings: bsf!Geto x f!Reader

content: MDNI, smut and fluff and light angst, modern AU, mutual pining, heavy yearning, they want each other BAD, friends-to-lovers-to-parents, unprotected piv sex, mating press, creampie, fingering, oral (m! + f! receiving), lots of teasing and tension, taking pictures during sex, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of pregnancy/marriage, cravings, reader is a lil insecure, Suguru adores her anyway, short Gojo cameo, protective/possessive dilf!Suguru lol, idiots in love

part of this wikihow collab with @neovillains, art by @captainsalsaa divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !

Step one?

Comfort you after you dumped yet another boyfriend.

Or maybe the first step had been one he never meant to take. Falling in love with the girl who pulled on his ponytail on the playground at age five. And at twenty-five? He fell even harder at the thought of what sort of face you'd make if he pulled your hair now, if you'd throw him a glare or a laugh, maybe pout your pretty lips at him before he bent you over his kitchen counter and -

"Suguru," You giggled, glancing over your shoulder, a playful glint shimmering in your eyes as you nudged his side. "Are you actually drunk?"

On you, maybe.

"No," He murmured, a cold hand finding your hip, an excuse, really, to pull you closer, press your body between his and the marble edge of the countertop as he reached over your head to grab the bowls he started keeping on the top shelf so you'd need his help grabbing them.

He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, spine going stiff for a second, before relaxing into him like it was second nature by now, your head tilting to twist back against his chest and look up at him.

"You don't seem very heartbroken to me," He dryly commented, to which you just made a noncommittal hm, blinking a few times.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah?" He murmured, a little lost in your proximity, how right it felt for your back to be against his chest. "If he lost you, he must be a fucking idiot."

"Oh?" You giggled. "You know, he actually said we were in love with each other?"

"And? Are you in love with me?" Suguru teased, setting the bowls down to cage you in closer, his hand cutting off your chance at wiggling away when it landed on the counter, the fingers on your hips gripping a little tighter, wrinkling your dress.

Wishful thinking or not, he could almost feel the heat in your cheeks from here, your eyes crinkling when you just shrugged.

"What movie do you wanna watch?" You hummed, eyes flickering from his down to his lips, like you wanted to watch him reply, or maybe, hopefully, something more.

The game of pulling each other in just to push each other away at the last second still in swing after two decades.

"Whatever you want," Suguru shrugged back, the steady pop pop pops! of the kernels on the stove filling the background, the half-empty bottle of wine waiting to be polished off perched between two glasses. Yours was nearly full, but there were only a few drops left in his, despite drinking being your idea.

Showing up at his door on a Saturday night, gift bag in hand with tissue paper sticking out, wearing your favorite little sundress, cardigan hanging off your shoulders when you grinned up at him and asked if you could crash for a couple days.

"Boo," You did pout, and he hoped your proximity to his heart didn't mean you could hear it actually skipping a beat. "What if I want you to pick?"

He wished you only wanted him, period.

You stared sometimes and he could feel it there, simmering underneath your smile and living in the lines on your face. But you were always dating some other dark-haired asshole or he'd find himself in someone else's bed (who always looked a little too much like you, sharing the same shade of hair or the shape of your eyes). Living off of lingering touches and secret jokes and the moments where the boundaries blurred, where you'd be snuggled against his side or a kiss on the cheek would stray closer to the corner of your mouth instead.

Both of you waiting for the day the other one accepted defeat, conceded victory and came clean about the festering feelings you shared.

"Fine," He sighed, moving the pot to a different burner, flicking the heat off before taking off the lid, having to smack your hand away before you could snag a still-hot piece from the top before he could add any popcorn salt. "Just go sit down before you manage to burn yourself, okay?"

You rolled your eyes, poking his side before pouring more wine in his glass, carrying both over to the coffee table, too distracted watching him to pay attention to where you were walking, the corner catching your leg and sending you stumbling.

He would laugh at you later.

But now?

He was dropping the bowl back to the counter, hurrying over to help you up, your dress soaked and stained, clinging to your body, broken shards of glass littering the wooden floor.

"Shit, Sugu, I'm sorry," You frowned, chewing on your bottom lip as you pinched the sticky fabric away from your chest. But he caught the little glint in your eyes, the way one corner of your mouth involuntarily tugged up, like maybe you'd done it on purpose.

"Careful," He sighed, grabbing you by the waist to move you away from the safety hazard just to take your wrist anyway after he set you back down, pulling you down the hall to his room. "I'll throw that in the wash. You can just wear one of my shirts."

Sure, you already had a drawer full of your clothes at his place. But you both knew you'd rather wear something of his anyway.

"You're not mad, are you?" You asked, your face still scrunched up in disappointment when he pushed open the bedroom door.

"When have I ever been mad at you?"

He wanted to be, sometimes. When you introduced him to a new guy who would check out other girls when he should be thanking the fucking stars you even looked at him. When he thought about the time you got a little too wasted on your birthday a few years ago and kissed him in the backseat of a taxi just to forget the next morning. But the hurt could never hold it's shape, the anger could never set in, not when the need for you had engraved itself in his bones, to see you smile and hear your laugh at his jokes. No matter how much it ached to watch you offer yourself to others who didn't even see you.

Suguru went to grab a t-shirt off a hanger, glancing over his shoulder at you to find - fuck.

You already stripped out of your dress, perched pretty on the edge of his bed and staring at him almost innocently, your head tilted to the side as if to ask 'what?'

He shouldn't look, really, he absolutely should not, but his eyes don't know that, drifting down to the pretty swell of your breasts pushed out in a skimpy little lace bra that he was going to be thinking about long after you left, and his throat almost closes then and there.

"Here," He dryly choked out, his jaw clenching as he tossed you the shirt, dragging his attention down to where you discarded your dress.

"Thanks," You caught it, but barely made an effort to cover up your chest, your eyes following him as he bent over to pick it up, something that sounded close to a sigh escaping when he walked towards the door.

Suguru wouldn't crack. His composure couldn't. The only thing worse than you not being his was you not being in his life at all.

He could live with being in love with you. But knowing you didn't feel the same might kill him.

He didn't want a one-time thing, a single night spent in the sheets, but every part of you, every inch of your skin and second of your time. If you fucked him once just to say you couldn't be friends anymore, couldn't be anything, he didn't know what he'd do.

It was hard to know where the line was drawn when both of you had erased it so many times just to hastily scrawl a new one a little further back.

Carefully measuring out the laundry detergent and adjusting the settings on the washing machine before turning it on, the scent of your perfume and the wine clinging to him even after he turned away, glancing back down at the closed bedroom door. You were probably done changing by now, or close, at least.

He still knocked anyway, knuckles tapping against the wood, waiting for your reply.

"Can I come in?" Suguru called out, leaning against the door, trying not to think about what you looked like in his bed, the still image already burned in the back of his brain.

"Uh-huh," You hummed. Twisting the knob, he pushed it open, his stare locking onto you before he could even really process what he was seeing.

You were not done changing.

The hooks of your bra weren't even properly clasped, a tiny little thong hooked over your hips, your back to him while you rummaged through his nightstand. Something was in your hands that he couldn't see.

You glanced over your shoulder, a cute little smirk plastered to your lips that he wanted to kiss off of you, twist into a gasp, a moan of his name. "Hi."

"Hi," He echoed, low and gravelly, one corner of his mouth curling up to match yours.

You knew what you were doing.

And he was so tired of pretending he didn't.

"Say cheese," You giggled, holding up an old camera of his, finger hovering over the shutter while he folded his arms across his chest, his mouth set in a thin line even when you snapped a photo.

"Hand it over," He huffed, his focus straining to stay on your face while you walked over to him, bare feet padding across his floor until you were close enough to push the camera against his chest. The words were on his tongue before he could second guess saying them. "My turn."

The blush coloring your face made him feel warm, the sudden hints of shyness bleeding through when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, like you just remembered how little you were wearing, how close he was.

"Scared?" Suguru mocked, giving you an out he hoped you wouldn't take.

"N-no," You stammered though, a crease forming between your furrowed brow as you protested.

"Back on the bed then," He murmured, wondering if you'd pose for him, if this would be the only picture you'd let him take of you tonight.

You hesitantly perched yourself back on the end, glancing down at yourself then back up at him, swallowing hard as you tried to collect your confidence again. Scooting back, parting your legs just enough that he caught a glimpse of the small damp patch on your panties, chuckling at the realization you were more worked up than him.

"More," He instructed, watching the way your lips parted and froze, how slowly your limbs started to move.

He sighed, sitting the camera down on the mattress next to you before sliding his hands over your soft thighs, spreading them for you, pretending your little gasp at the contact didn't make his cock practically jump in his boxers.

"Lay down for me, okay, pretty girl?" Suguru requested, softer this time, and you nodded, listening as you laid back, your body stiff as it sank down on his comforter. Only starting to relax once his hands slipped higher, the feeling of your bare skin under his palm only fueling the burning need he'd been suppressing for so long.

Hooking two sturdy fingers under the band of your panties and slowly peeling them down your thighs, taking his time and waiting for some squeak of his name to leave your mouth, but you just watched him back, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

Once your underwear hit the floor, you hesitantly shifted, opening yourself up for him. "Like this?"

Suguru wasn't sure he was going to make it out of here with his sanity in tact.

Step two?

He was going to fuck you until you admitted you'd been waiting for this just as long as him.

"Look at me," He quietly said, picking the camera back up to hide the hunger in his gaze as he peered through the viewfinder at you.

Your unsure stare reflecting his own desperation, lashes fluttering as you tried to decide what face to make.

He could help with that.

Returning one hand to the inside of your thigh, tracing a soft path up to the slick on your skin as placed his hand over your entrance, his thumb dipping just barely in to the knuckle while he watched your face for every tiny flicker in your expression. Entranced by how easily he made you squirm, your pretty pout like you wanted more and knowing he wouldn't give it to you unless you asked.

And click!

Of all the candids he'd taken over the years, the collection of your smiles and scoffs saved in photo albums and in his phone's camera rolls, he knew that this would be his favorite.

"Sugu-" You started, the uneven rise-and-fall of your chest only drawing his attention the strap of your bra slipping down your arm.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He breathed, stuck staring at the sharp edge of one of your canines was tugging on your lower lip, the glimmer in your eyes at how intimate the nickname suddenly felt despite how many times he called you that before.

"Are you sure?" You slowly enunciated every syllable, straining to speak as his thumb dipped deeper. Trying not to give away how much he was affecting you, like he couldn't feel the muscles pull tighter, see the twitch of your hips as they fought to buck up and force him in more.

"Always have been about you," Suguru simply said, pushing his palm down over your clit, watching you gasp at the sudden pressure, eyes fluttering closed as you harshly sucked in a breath.

"God," You hissed.

"Take your bra off," He instructed, and you listened, struggling to prop yourself up enough to reach around with one hand and fumble to undo the clasp, throwing it off with a clatter to the floor.

Fuck.

The way your breasts bounced as you moved, how the buds of your nipples were already perked up and hard, just begging him to roll his tongue over them, to pinch and grope and hold. Mark your chest and your neck with enough kisses to erase the fact that anyone else had ever touched them before him.

He wanted to be the last man who would.

How could he not when you were looking at him like you needed him?

"You wanna tell me what you want?" He hm-ed, slipping his thumb back out, the slick pad dragging up to trace a ghost of a circle over the swollen bud while you whined at the abrupt absence.

"You, please," You whimpered, and he didn't think he'd ever been this hard before. "S-Sugu, I wan' you."

It took every ounce of control not to pull his cock out and fuck you until you cried that out again and again, until pretty tears were collected in your eyes and all you could do was whimper.

He slowly slotted two fingers inside, the stretch making you shudder, thighs struggle to resist the temptation to close on his hand.

He clicked his tongue, once, twice, three times.

"Keep them open for me, baby," He teased, and you just pushed out your bottom lip, weakly nodding as all your muscles tensed again, muscles straining to stay in place when he crooked his fingers all the way in.

"Fuck, fuck, god, there." Your cute moan made his head spin, how your breath almost stuttered every time you sucked it in just for him to immediately force it back out, skin he used to try so hard to avoid staring at in swim suits now completely bare in his sheets.

Pumping his fingers in-and-out, the filthy fucking sound of how wet you were for him ringing his his ears, how right it felt to have you squeezing desperately around him, to be the one pushing you closer and closer to cumming on his fingers.

"That's it, pretty," He softly said, feeling you throb at his low voice, pausing to test it out again. "Come on, breathe."

You tried, sucking in a small breath and looking at him with glossy eyes, silently begging him to keep going.

"Use your words, sweetheart," Suguru purred, swiping his thumb back over your sensitive clit and you shivered.

"Please let me cum," You begged out loud this time, trembling at his touch.

He chuckled, dark and low, slotting his fingers back inside, already trying to memorize which spots made you whine louder, thrusting in, out, in, out, until-

"Suguru."

His name ripped from your throat right as his fingers found the spongy spot in the back, fingertips pressing against it just enough for you to cry out his name a second time, your legs snapping shut as you grinded up against his hand.

"Go ahead, baby," He murmured, letting you rut against his palm for extra pressure and friction, readjusting so his thumb was massaging circles over the swollen bud. "C'mon, cum."

And fuck, he never thought you'd looked more beautiful than right now - lashes fluttering, pretty lips parted as your back arched off the bed, his fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt while you came.

"Look so pretty like this f'me," He promised, his thumb rolling over your clit while you blushed and squirmed, still trying to catch your breath when he didn't immediately pull out.

"S-shut up," Your voice was small as you stammered.

"Can I take another photo?" He teased, slipping his slick fingers out, and popping them in his own mouth, needing to taste you on his tongue.

The image of him cleaning the ring of white off his fingers seemed to make you more flustered, your glossy stare searing through his heart.

"You want to?" You swallowed hard.

He climbed on top of the bed, pulling his fingers out with a pop! and grazing over your lower lip with his thumb, caging you in under his broad frame.

"That a yes?" He hm-ed, and you nodded, letting him tug your mouth open. He pushed the same two fingers that had just been in his mouth into yours, your tongue swirling over his knuckles, sucking softly and peering up at him with those pretty eyes.

"Mhm," Your muffled voice purred back.

He fumbled for the camera, holding it back up and hovering his finger over the button as you met his stare through the viewfinder, your own hand reaching up to hold his and push his fingers in deeper while he snapped the photo.

"My pretty girl."

His his his.

Pulling out his fingers while he leaned over to deposit the camera on the nightstand, your lips still open, waiting for a kiss or about to tease him for a sentiment so silly, but a soft smile curled up.

"Yeah, yours."

Suguru Geto was in love. Something he always knew, but only existed in the loops of his mind, the quiet score of his life, playing in the background of every scene. But this, with you here, it was loud. In every look and touch, in every breath he exhaled, the atoms crackling in the air between your bodies.

"I need to fuck you," He heard himself say, hoarse and thick with something caught between desperation and desire.

"Oh yeah?" Your airy little giggle was abruptly cut off with his mouth colliding against yours, wondering if his tasted like wine or you as he sucked softly on your lower lip.

Your hands were struggling to pull his shirt up, only breaking the kiss to shove it up and over his head, your warm palms skimming over his muscles and tracing over each ridge and curve like you'd thought about touching him half as much as he thought about touching you.

"Sugu," You giggled again, letting him pepper your cheek with kisses, his mouth leaving hungry sucks in a line down your throat, marks you'd probably have to wear a scarf or makeup to cover at work in a few days.

He really couldn't stop touching you. Caressing your face and groping your breast and tracing your collarbone and trying to find an excuse to catalogue what every inch of you felt like under him.

"Mm?" He barely paused, feeling your delicate touch start to tug down the zipper of his jeans, the rustle of you unbuttoning them next. He wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, groaning softly as he dragged his tongue over it as you managed to slip your fingers underneath his jeans and the band of his boxers to feel how hard he already was. Swiping your fingertips over his leaking tip to collect the pre-cum there and wiggling back out to bring it to your lips for your own taste.

His throat went dry.

More than dry. Actually, it felt like someone stuffed fucking cotton balls down it and his pants suddenly felt two sizes too tight as you dragged your tongue over your fingertips and batted your lashes at him.

"I thought you needed to fuck me," You reminded him with the sort of soft sigh that made him dizzy.

He was pushing off his plush mattress to finish what you started, discarding his jeans and boxers in one go, his composure not just cracked but crumbled into a million little pieces he couldn't clean up, the need turning him into the kind of man who couldn't care less about appearances or control if it mean he could fuck your brains out enough that you'd forget about all of that too.

His cock was practically pink, swollen and hard, swinging up to smack against his dark happy trail and muscles, your eyes getting even wider, glued to the thick length.

"Um, S-Sugu," You stuttered, and it was cute to see you lose your own cool, scooting back higher on the bed and propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Uh-huh?" He wryly cocked his head to the side as he climbed back on top of you, pulling you down by your hips as your head fell back on his pillow. Spreading your legs back open, glistening and gorgeous and all his.

"Kiss me again," You quietly requested, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Returning his lips to your own to press a tender kiss there while his tip nudged against your opening, your body jolting when he pinned you down with his weight. Slipping one hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing the ridges of your teeth while his other hand held your waist, your wrists wrapping around his neck while you moaned in his mouth, unable to do anything but grind up where his cock was practically twitching against your clit.

Getting more desperate by the second, your muffled moan turning into a whine, bucking up harder to chase your high from earlier.

"Put it in," Your voice was a strained whisper in-between kisses, rolling your hips up again.

"Say please," Suguru taunted, kissing your frown away before he could even really form.

"Please."

He was letting go of your waist to grab the base of his cock, pushing the first few inches in and watching your body tense and stiffen around him, your thighs trying not to close as he pushed past the first ring of resistance, the gasp you attempted to stifle not going unnoticed.

"You okay, baby?" He paused, your body squeezing him sinfully before he hadn't even quite made it halfway in.

"You're, um, bigger, than I imagined," You choked out, and he wasn't sure if it was his ego or his dick that got fucking bigger hearing you admit you imagined him at all.

"It'll fit," He murmured, barely containing the urge to bottom out already, taking his time stretching you out, molding you to each vein and ridge. "Promise I'll take care of you."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locked them there with your heels digging into his back, and the feeling of your soft thighs against his skin, the squeeze of the muscle had him burying himself in fully before he could stop it.

"Shit, Suguru, o-oh, oh," You mewled at him, nails scratching at his shoulder blades while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin, teeth nipping at his collarbone.

He kind of hoped you would bite him. Leave little indents of your teeth on his skin so he could run his fingers over it in the morning.

"Fuck," He murmured, stalling for a second just to appreciate how it felt. The warmth of your body trapped under his, the taste of you still on his tongue while his cock was snugly sheathed inside you, raw and-

Shit, he wasn't wearing a condom.

You hadn't asked him to. And to be honest, he didn't even think he had one. It's not like he'd been seeing anyone recently or even considered the possibility he might need one tonight.

It would probably be fine.

He could just pull out or-

"Baby," Your voice, so needy, distracted him.

Suguru's brain shut off.

All higher reasoning had been abandoned, replaced only by the thought of making you cum again (and again).

Sliding out just to shove himself back in, gentle thrusts growing faster, harder with every one of your whines and broken rasps of his name, your hands running over his back and your mouth on his throat. Eventually un-hooking your legs from his hips to pin your thighs to your chest, angling himself to hit that same spongy spot he had before, half-incoherent murmurs whispered into your skin of how beautiful you were, how badly he wanted you, needed you.

And you were nodding back, tears brimming at your lashes and moaning his name, offering quiet little swears that you belonged to him like it was a secret meant for the two of you to keep.

"Oh, t-there, fuck," You whimpered, his cock practically grinding against your cervix as his hips smacked against your skin, planting another open-mouthed kiss on your lips while you both struggled to stave off your climax. Neither of you wanted it to end. "Suguru, m' so close."

"I know, baby, I know," He groaned, barely holding himself together, all the carefully assembled pieces of his life about feeling like they were about to fracture the second his restraint snapped.

There was no going back after this.

No mask he'd be able to wear now that he knew what this felt like. Knew what you looked like pinned under him in the filthiest fucking mating press imaginable, fucked-out and filled-up by his cock slamming again and again while his thumb made messy circles over your clit, rolling and pinching it just to see what sort of noises he could pull out of you next. Especially not after knowing what face you made when you finished, your shattered gasp and your glazed-over eyes focused solely on him and fuck-

Fuck.

He cumming before he could stop himself, your body wrapped up so warm around him, the delicious squeeze like you wanted to draw out every last fucking drop, painting your insides white before he even had enough brain power to start to pull out, but by then, only the last few drops were left to leak onto your thighs. Both dazed, blinking and breathing, his cock still hard in his hand while he stared down at his seed dripping out of you.

You were probably on birth control.

Probably.

Suguru reached over to snag the camera off the nightstand, one hand still pinning your thighs down while the other held the camera back up.

"Say cheese."

Step three?

Show up to your apartment after you'd been avoiding him for what? Two months?

Work stuff, you said, already made plans, you bluffed, feeling sick, you excused.

You hadn't left his place upset - no, you showered and practically stayed in his bed until you had to go to work on Monday. Kissed him on the lips and brushed his bangs out of his face, but when he replayed the 36 hours of heaven, none of the words exchanged had technically been confessions. Or at least, nothing that would put a name to whatever the two of you were now.

It's not like you hadn't gone a couple weeks without seeing each other in person. But this was getting ridiculous - and exactly what he'd been worried about in the first place. He knew you were probably overthinking it, probably just as worried as he was that it'd screw everything up, judging by the still-constant stream of texts you sent him every day.

But he couldn't take it anymore - close enough to just calling it like it was and asking you out officially if it meant you'd stop whatever this was. He'd spent more nights by now fucking in fists to the photos he'd taken of you, painfully-aware of how much better the real thing was.

He could tell by the sound of some shitty reality show playing too-loud through the door that you were definitely home, but you didn't answer the first time he knocked. Or the fourth.

By the tenth, he was flipping through his keys to find the spare one to your place, his text messages to you left unread as he turned it in the lock, calling out your name as he stepped inside. No answer.

Panic had started to prick at his nerves, glancing around to see your stuff scattered around like you usually left it as he crept through your empty kitchen and living room. There weren't any dishes in the sink though, just a few empty packs of crackers, a small trash can by the couch, a blanket thrown over the side and a crushed pillow like you'd just been there. He heard it then - the sound of retching.

Shit. You were sick.

He followed the noise down the hall into the bathroom, the door already cracked open, softly saying your name as he approached so he wouldn't surprise you, but you coughed again, glancing over your shoulder clearly startled anyway.

"What are you-" You weakly rasped, a few stray hairs plastered to your forehead with sweat, tired circles around your eyes before you got sick again. He hurried to hold the rest of your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing little circles on your shoulder blade.

"Hey, it's okay," He murmured, concern replacing everything else he'd been preoccupied with when he showed up. "I was worried about you."

Something that looked like fear flashed across your features when you finished and peeked back over at him.

"Suguru," You slowly said his name, and just speaking sounded like it must hurt.

"Come on, want me to carry you back to the couch? I can go pick up some medicine for you, whatever else you want too," He offered, his thumb rubbing over your your shoulder blade in comforting half-circles. You didn't immediately answer, a small frown still stuck on your face. "You been to the doctor yet?"

"Suguru," You said his name again, more serious this time and he froze.

"Yeah?" He swallowed hard, and you refused to meet his stare.

"I'm pregnant," You murmured, so quietly that was barely audible over the bathroom exhaust fan.

His brain stopped working.

His body too - stuck in place, his thumb still pressing down on the tense muscles of your back.

"You're-" He started, then stopped himself. Each word forming its own separate thought, struggling to piece each of them together when weight of them all combined threatened to crush him. "Is it my baby?"

Fuck, it had to be.

You nodded, just a small bob of your head, and he could barely blink.

Baby. A baby. Yours and his.

"Don't hate me," You whispered sheepishly, shoulders shrinking together. "But I want to keep it."

"I could never hate you," He hoped it sounded reassuring, straining to keep his own happiness in check, struggling to be steady the way you clearly needed him to be. "Whatever you want, I'm here for you. And our baby."

"You mean it?" You turned, just enough that he was able to tug you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

"Promise." He pressed a kiss against your hair, cradling you closer.

Your breathing was still shaky, sniffling a few times before your arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed against his shirt.

"Have you been to the doctor yet?" He asked again, although it had an entirely different meaning now, one that still hadn't sunk in all the way yet.

"I called, after, um, I got the positive test," You talked into his chest, voice muffled but you refused to pull away either. "My first appointment isn't for another two weeks."

"I'll go with you," He muttered.

"You don't have-"

"I want to," Suguru chuckled. "Let me take care of you, okay?"

"That's kind of how we ended up here," You reminded him, and he didn't have to see your face to know you were pouting.

He still laughed though, because he'd still do it again.

"Want me to make you something to see if you can keep it down?" He decided to shift the subject, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes, content to play doctor or nurse (or husband) or whatever role you wanted from him.

Playing chef while he made you something warm, masseuse when he rubbed your back while you curled up next to him in bed, and boyfriend when you finally fell asleep, slipping out of your room to complete the chores that had started to pile up that you'd been too exhausted to do.

It was the least he could do when all your energy was already being devoted to his baby.

By the time he finished and crept back into your bedroom, you were still dreaming, the blankets kicked off of your body. The bed creaked as he climbed back in, settling next to your warm body.

His hand slipped down your side, readjusting so his chest was pressed against your back as his fingers drifted slowly over your stomach, just beneath your belly button, trying to picture it.

Would the baby be a boy? Or a girl?

A little mini-version of you running around, maybe with his eyes or hair?

You were already everything he ever wanted. Anything extra was just icing on top.

Step four?

Convince you to move into his place before the second trimester was over, it was bigger, anyway, had a spare bedroom he'd been using as a home gym he already started converting into a nursery. Spending the weekends building baby furniture and taking you out for dates disguised as shopping, buying little onesies and toys mostly so he could insist on treating you to lunch or dinner afterwards.

It was easier than he expected.

What wasn't?

Convincing you to marry him.

You were already carrying his child. Pretty and pregnant, the cute swell of your stomach you tried to hide under flowy dresses and oversized sweaters making his heart throb in his chest every time he saw it. His mouth would go dry, his eyes stuck staring if he caught you in the middle of changing, even when you shyly tried to turn away. Only having sex in certain positions where you could try to avoid letting him see it, although it usually ended up with him flipping you over on your back or pulling you on top.

"We're going to be late," Suguru sighed, throwing on a sweater from the closet.

"I just need a few more minutes," You pouted, halfway yelling from the bathroom.

He crossed over the bedroom, pushing the bathroom door open with two fingers so he could poke his head through. You were frowning at yourself in the mirror, readjusting your dress, like it'd make it any less obvious you were pregnant. Other clothing items were already discarded across the floor.

"Baby," He softly said, wrapping his arms around your waist, running a hand over your baby bump while the other slipped up to cup your swollen breast starting to spill out of your bra. Despite your insistence otherwise, your discomfort with your changing body, he still tried to offer to take you out to buy stuff for you instead of just the baby. "You look beautiful."

You did.

Everything in him ached to touch you constantly, and maybe it was protective or possessive or whatever you wanted to call it, but he hated that you wanted to hide it, the physical proof that you were his.

He wanted everyone to know it, wanted to slide a ring on your finger and have family photos on the fridge because you were carrying more of him with you now than just his heart.

You scowled at him in the mirror.

"I look pregnant," You muttered, like it was a bad thing.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, tracing the subtle curve of your stomach with his thumb. Twenty weeks. That was halfway there, wasn't it? He'd read more than a few parenting books in his spare time - looked up the latest articles on pregnancy and what to expect. He'd pour over the packets you left from the prenatal appointments with, asked off for each one in advance, absolutely refusing to let you go alone.

"I hate all my clothes," You huffed.

"You hated them before you were pregnant," Suguru sighed, pulling you closer and leaning down to plant a soft kiss against your throat. "You should probably wear something else though. Aren't they doing an ultrasound today?"

He phrased it like a question even though he knew they were.

You frowned again, wiggling away from him to slip out of his grip and walk over to the dresser, yanking out a pair of sweatpants.

"Everything fits weird," You complained, pulling your dress up and over your head, and Suguru stared, feeling the way his own jeans started to fit too tight at the sight of your exposed skin.

"We can go shopping for some new clothes after the appointment," Suguru absentmindedly said, still memorizing the pretty outline of your body.

He could kiss you, offer reassurance after reassurance that he did want you, but you were reluctant to believe him.

Your foot was still anxiously tapping the floor of the waiting room when you arrived, gripping his hand like it was a lifeline, your last tether stopping you from giving into the stress.

"It's gonna be fine," He leaned down to murmur in your ear, barely able to squeeze your hand back with how tightly you were holding it.

"What if it's not?" You were panicking, your other hand protectively placed over your stomach like you were shielding it from the rest of the world.

"Then we'll figure it out together."

His answer didn't seem to calm you much, the little circles he rubbed over your knuckles only making your foot tall a little slower.

"They keep looking at you," You eventually craned your neck up to whisper in his ear, frowning even harder than you had when you first walked in.

"Who?" He leaned down to whisper back.

"The other moms," You pouted, cutting a glare over to a woman who was, in fact, staring. She tried to turn away, but not before you both caught her blush.

"So?" He had to resist the smirk that wanted to creep up, lest he faced your wrath too. Like he could ever want anyone else when you were sitting next to him in the waiting room because his baby was growing inside of you, although this jealousy was something he probably would've killed to see you show over him six months ago.

"I'm probably going to be prying them off of you at the playground in a couple years," You huffed, and he couldn't help but chuckle picturing that.

But before you could focus your frown on him, a nurse called out your full name, his own forming at the reminder he was barely here as a boyfriend, that his baby might not even have his last name either.

He insisted on helping you stand, a hand on the small of your back even when you didn't really need it yet, following you through the hall and listening to you answer the same questions they always asked at every appointment until they led you to the small room that branched off the main hall. The lights were dimmed down already as he helped you lay back onto the table, the paper crinkling while you readjusted. He pulled the chair against the wall closer, slipping his hand back on yours while the nurse left and reassured an ultrasound tech would be there in a few minutes.

"Last guesses," You mumbled, chewing on your lower lip, breathing too fast. "Boy or a girl?"

"Girl," Suguru replied, although he didn't think it mattered much. Not as long as it was yours.

He did like the idea of the baby being a girl - if she had your eyes and your smile.

"I guess I'll go with boy then," You spoke quietly, eyeing the machine next to you. "I hope our baby looks like you either way."

Suguru didn't expect the way your sentiment made him feel - his heart practically stuttering as the words left your lips. Something squeezing tight in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

But there were two sharp knocks on the door and suddenly it was swinging open, a peppy woman in shrugs stepping in with cheery greetings, waving and taking a seat on the other side of you to get started. Asking questions about names you had in mind and if you wanted to know the gender while she got set up, and it was silly, but it was like he had a crush on you all over again, watching you chat about the baby, how your eyes lit up just to get sheepish and almost embarrassed when you looked back at Suguru to find him staring.

It didn't take long for you to be slowly pulling the band of your sweatpants down, tissues stuck under it to keep the gel from getting on your clothes while you held up your sweatshirt high enough for her to spread the gel over your stomach, pressing down hard with the wand as the image pulled up on the projector. Taking measurements and checking body parts until she paused right as the baby turned.

"You see that?"

Not really.

"Sorta," You squinted, trying to squint and figure out what it is.

"Looks like you're having a girl!"

And all the earlier anxiety had dissolved, melted into the shy smile on your lips when you glanced back at him, your warm palm giving him a quick squeeze and an excited gleam in your eyes.

"We're gonna have a daughter," You talked so quiet, so soft, like you were still holding your breath.

A daughter. You voice, those words played on repeat the drive home, while you traced the outline of your baby's face on the roll of ultrasound photos you got sent home with.

"Suguru, are you even listening?" You snapped him out of his thoughts, the idea of what you'd look like with a little girl swaddled up in your arms, already planning on taking you out shopping again tomorrow for more baby outfits than any kid could actually need.

"Sorry, honey? What?" He apologized, placing a palm on your thigh and rubbing it while you hummed.

"I asked what you thought of the name Kiyoko," You repeated, setting the photos down on your lap to pull out your phone and probably look up lists of baby girl names.

"That's pretty," He hummed, mostly just enjoying hearing your enthused chatter next to him.

"Or Yumi?" He caught a glimpse of you with your eyebrow arched up as you asked, your attempt at a serious expression falling flat from the thrill you couldn't hide.

He never thought he'd be able to love another girl as much as you - but he guessed his daughter was the only exception.

It wasn't until he started to climb into bed next to you that night that he realized you might not know that.

"Um, Suguru?"

There was something off in the sound of your voice, how hesitant you were to roll over and face him.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" He readjusted, propping himself up on his side as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"Are, um, you," You paused, frowning as you restarted your question. "Do you think you'll-"

He guessed you were giving up on whatever you wanted to ask as you groaned and buried your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Sorry, just, pretend I didn't say anything," Your voice was muffled, clinging to him, fingers wrinkling his shirt and forcing it to ride up higher until a thin strip of skin was exposed.

"You sure?" He stroked your hair, returning your hug as he pulled you in closer with one strong arm.

"Yeah," You huffed, wiggling free and rolling over till you were between his legs.

He was about to slip his hands under your arms to tug you back up, but then you let one finger skim under his boxers, looking up and batting your eyes at him and he paused, the question he was about to ask dying on his tongue.

Yours seemed to have an idea of it's own.

Fingers ghosting over his dark happy trail while you bit your lip, slowly tugging down his boxers just enough to pull his cock out, already hard from watching you undress and ditch your daytime clothes for a thin slip earlier that hugged your swollen breasts before you'd crawled into bed.

"This for me?" You hummed, running your fingers over the thick vein pulsing along the side while he sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile on its own.

"Always," He murmured, the lump in his throat bobbing as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, mouth slowly wrapping around the tip.

God, it wasn't fucking fair.

How could he control himself when every part of you felt so good?

Head falling back on the pillow, jaw clenched as you slowly took him in inch-by-inch, swirling our tongue over him and down across the vein, traced the ridges until he was pressed up against the roof of your mouth, bumping into the back of your throat.

His hand grabbing your hair to help guide you, careful not to make you gag or bruise your throat, your fingers wrapped around his base to stroke what you couldn't fit in. Your moan when he pulled your hair harder than he meant to almost made him snap them and there.

Opening his eyes was his mistake.

He wished he could take a photo of this, the bob of your head and the way you peered up at him so pretty, his cock throbbing in your mouth and how eagerly your mouth softly sucked on him.

He barely pulled out before warm spurts of cum shot down your throat, meaning to cum on his own hand, but it didn't quite work. The thick almost translucent white coating your lips and making them glossy, half ending up on your face and the rest coating his hand as he roughly jerked long strokes.

"Fuck, sorry, I-"

You giggled, licking a little off your lips before wiping away at your cheek.

"It's fine, Sugu," You laughed, wiping your face off on his boxers, nose nuzzling through the fabric against his thigh. "Little warning, next time?"

"Yeah," He muttered, still dazed as he studied your face.

It seemed keeping it together wasn't something he could do when it came to you.

"Wanna shower?" You offered, getting off the bed, the bounce of your breasts as you carefully pulled your little nightdress off reminding him how badly he wanted to repay that favor.

"Sure," He shrugged, standing up after you and stepping out his boxers off before tossing them into the laundry basket.

He watched you get the water started, humming to yourself as you grabbed a new bottle of body wash from the cabinet underneath the sink and checked the temperature.

"Hey," He softly said, distracting you before you could step in.

"Yeah?" You paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

"Wanna get married?"

You didn't react. Or maybe your lack of reaction was one in itself. A blank stare. A blink. Your hands still on the shower curtain.

"What?" You eventually choked out.

Suguru panicked - or came as close to panic as he could. Falling back on logic, all the facts you couldn't argue with.

"I was paying the bill for the last appointment, and you know, your insurance is terrible," He reasoned, keeping his expression serious, stoic, like you'd have to see his side. "I just think it'd make more sense for us to get married, use my insurance and save our money for the other important stuff."

He actually couldn't care less what the appointments cost or how much he spent on the baby - because he would make absolutely fucking sure you were both spoiled but, he wanted you to say yes.

"I can just pay for the appointments if that's the problem," You quietly murmured, a look on his face he'd never seen before he barely caught before you turned back around and stepped in the shower.

Shit.

He didn't have to guess to know that was a no.

Step five?

Try not to maim every guy that ever looked at you.

It had to be something instinctual - how it made his skin crawled whenever someone's shoulder brushed against yours on the street or a stare lingered too long on your face. Fuck, even Gojo sitting too-close to you had started to get to him, the easy way he slung his shoulder over the back of the couch and blabbered to you about his day while you laughed.

Normally, Suguru would not be silently struggling to maintain his polite smile when you offered to let Satoru feel the baby kick, new cracks starting to form in his facade as his best friend eagerly out his hand on your stomach.

"That's freaky," Gojo scrunched up his face, pulling his hand away at the first flutters of the kick.

"Jerk," You huffed, smacking his arm before struggling to readjust the pillows under your back, your own brows knitted together in frustration.

"Need something?" Suguru interrupted.

"I'm fine," You muttered, despite your discomfort.

"So, like," Gojo started, squinting down at your stomach before glance between you and Suguru. "Am I like, the godfather or-"

"Why not?" You shrugged right as Suguru shook his head no.

"Why not?" Gojo repeated in a whine, cutting him a look that only ever worked if you were the one directing it at him.

"I'd prefer my daughter lives off of more than chocolate and candy," Suguru sarcastically dismissed, scooting closer to you in the couch to slip the pillow that had been beside him underneath your back to help support it.

"I can cook," Satoru defensively protested, looking to your for support Suguru hoped he wouldn't received. "Besides, I have a great dentist so even if-"

"Shit, do we have to find her a dentist too?" You were ignoring the rest of his rambling, glancing back at Suguru with a frown at yet another task on the growing list of items to take care of.

"We can worry about that when she's actually here," Suguru shrugged, a hand settling on your shoulder and massaging the tense muscles there. "And has teeth."

"Okay," You sighed, still chewing on your bottom lip. You turned to your other side, your attention focusing again on your guest.

"You guys pick out a doctor yet?" Satoru asked, spreading his legs and leaning over to grab one of the still-warm cookies you baked after dinner. The sun had already set aside, only the glow from the TV and the kitchen light still on.

"Yeah, think so," You hummed, a hand resting on your stomach when you tried to get one too, pouting at your body's refusal to do what it used to until Suguru reached over to get the cookie for you.

"Got your hands pretty full, huh?" Satoru mumbled with his mouth still full, cookie crumbs sticking to his face.

"Suguru says we should just go ahead and get married," You sighed, taking another small bite before talking again. "For insurance stuff, I guess."

It was the first time you mentioned it in the past couple months since he first brought it up.

Satoru threw him a look like he was the biggest idiot on the planet before actually laughing.

"Just for insurance?" He cocked a brow up, an annoying glimmer of amusement flashing in the blue of his eyes while throwing Suguru a look that made him consider strangling his friend on the spot. "You know, my insurance is really-"

"Don't even think about it," Suguru shut him up before he could continue.

But you were glancing between them, a small frown weighing your lips down and a subtle crease between your brow. Were you actually disappointed?

"I'm actually pretty tired, guys, I, uh, think I'm gonna crash for the night," You mumbled, pushing up off the couch and ignoring Suguru's outstretched hand to stand on your own.

He could feel it sinking in his chest before you disappeared down the hall.

Another misstep. Pushing you away when he was trying to pull you closer.

"Insurance? Really?" Satoru snickered once you were out of earshot.

"Shut up," Suguru groaned.

"Just tell her you love her already and put a ring on it," He shrugged, leaning over to flick his arm. "Unless you want your kid to have a stepdad some day?"

Okay, Suguru really wanted to strangle him for suggesting that.

And it was his own fault for offering excuses, he knew that, still he didn't want to tell you he loved you and you think it was just because of the baby, or that was the only reason he was trying to tie you down to him. He wanted you to know he meant it.

To know he'd been waiting for the moment he could claim you his entire life, to call you his in every form, sign the paper and hear the word husband leave your lips.

Just being your boyfriend the past few months when you were having his baby was torture, enduring your unsure glances, the unease he tried and failed to kiss away.

What were you so scared of? And why was it him?

He still hadn't figured out by the time Satoru left, or when he eventually got in bed next to you, careful not to disturb your sleep - even if he suspected you were already awake.

Suguru was pretty sure he'd never been scared in his until he woke up to an empty bed. Cold sheets, no lingering body heat or even the scent of your shampoo clinging to your pillow when he rolled over to the empty space you should be.

Stumbling out of the bed still half-asleep himself, squinting as he rubbed his eyes and pushed open the bathroom door, but no, the lights were off and it was also empty. Calling out your name and crushing the budding anxiety clawing up his throat as he padded through the hall into the living room, the dim light from the kitchen hurting his eyes as they adjusted to the yellow glow.

His ears caught up first.

The faint sound of your sniffling reaching him as he rounded the corner to find you on the floor by the entryway, struggling to slip on your shoes, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that didn't do much to hide your baby bump as you wiped at your cheeks with one hand. Dressed like you were planning on going somewhere, purse laying on the floor next to you, phone and keys hanging halfway out of it.

"Baby," He yawned, trying to speak softly as he glanced over at the clock. "It's three in the morning. What are you doing?"

"Can't sleep. I want a slushie," You mumbled, blinking a few times, clearly just as exhausted as him. There was a faint shine to your eyes, a few teardrops still clinging to your lashes.

"You should've woken me up," He murmured, gently squeezing your shoulder.

"It's just a stupid craving," You dismissed, rubbing your own eyes as you gave up and threw your shoe back on the ground.

It was the first one you'd told him about. He wasn't even sure you even had any, but maybe you'd just been taking care of them yourself.

"I'll get you one," He stifled another yawn while he talked. "Let me get a coat and my keys."

You grabbed onto the hem of his pajama pants to hold him in place, peeking up at him with a pout.

"You don't have to."

"You think I'm going to let my pregnant girlfriend go out by herself to get one?" Suguru retorted.

Your pout only got deeper at the word girlfriend.

"Forget about it," You murmured, letting go of his pajamas to push off the floor, once again ignoring his outstretched hand to try and stand by yourself. "Let's just go back to bed."

He knew he could ask if you were sure and you'd grumble something sarcastic back before going to sleep upset.

"Hey," He paused, stopping you with a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you into him, until your baby bump, his daughter, was pressed against the firm muscle of his own stomach. "Let's go together, okay?"

"You really wanna?" You hesitated, clearly wanting to say yes despite the streak of stubbornness that usually won out over your softer side.

Suguru pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hand appreciatively running over your stomach just for the mini-you inside to kick, the flutter under his fingers only reminding him how easily the two of you had him wrapped around your own.

"It's you," He'd remind you however many times you needed. "Course I do."

Step six?

Get you whatever craving or late night treat you wanted - even if he felt like he was sleepwalking.

Still groggy, he threw on his own shoes and grabbed his stuff, helping you over to the couch so he could get down on his knees and help you get your shoes on, tugging one of his sweatshirts over your head, although you didn't drown in it any more, he thought it was cuter now, stretched over your baby bump like this.

Rubbing his eyes with yet another yawn while he insisted on holding open the car door for you and driving you to the nearest gas station/convenience store combo that had a functioning slushie machine, keeping his mouth shut about the terrible food dyes in it while you picked out a cup and pulled the dispenser down on the blue raspberry flavor. It was nice. Your head resting on his shoulder and happily sipping through the straw while he paid the equally tired cashier, your hand in his after he pocketed the receipt while you walked to the car, his thumb rubbing over the bare spot beneath your knuckle where a ring should be.

The one that had been tucked inside a box in his closet, buried under photo albums and souvenirs of a lifetime you'd already spent together. One he'd seen through the window of a jewelry store on the street, the glittering stone and the thin band, the little offset gems, something about it that made him think of what it'd look like on you. He bought it even though Satoru laughed at him the entire drive home.

"You're not even dating her."

Who else would you marry if not him?

He glanced back over at you as he turned the key in the ignition, your sleepy eyes and your pretty smile, the way your other hand was settled over the swell of your stomach.

His girls.

The drive back home was filled with the sort of chatter that used to be casual for you two - your happy giggle ringing in his ears while you talked about some reality show you wanted to watch with him, swearing it was stupid but he'd still like it anyway, your hand drifting over to his leg, pausing on his thigh while you asked what him and Satoru talked about after you went to sleep.

Your slushie was almost empty by the time you made it back, taking the last few sips before tossing it in the trash in the kitchen and giving him a little look like you wanted him to help get your shoes off but didn't want to ask.

He did it for you.

Following behind you to the bedroom, tossing his stuff on the nightstand and flicking the lamp back on to bathe the room in low light.

"Thank you, Sugu," You softly said, yawning as you peeled the sweatshirt off first, shuffling out of your pajama pants until you were just in a thin t-shirt and panties, and all he could fucking think was how could you be thanking him? When you were giving him his dream on the prettiest platter he'd ever seen?

"You're so-" He started, but you weren't finished, shyly avoiding his gaze as your mouth opened again. The mood had shifted again, your face scrunched up like you were sad.

"I just feel bad, you know?" He didn't. "You're just, so, perfect, and so you, and you got stuck with me and a baby you didn't plan on."

"Stuck with you?" He echoed, blinking blankly at you while you kept stumbling over your words.

"I just, uh, I want you to know you don't have to marry me just because you feel obligated to, you know, if, um, you met someone else-" You looked like you were going to be sick just saying it.

Was this what had you so worried?

"There isn't ever going to be anyone else," Suguru bluntly cut you off.

"You don't know that," You argued, struggling to be the better person, not to be greedy when that was exactly what he'd waited years for.

"I'm in love with you."

You froze.

Glossy eyes wide with surprise, your lips parted and stained blue still, shoulders tense.

He turned back to the closet, snagging the box of the shelf and tossing it on the bed, shuffling through loose photos and little gifts you'd given him through the years he couldn't bear to break or lose until he found the velvet box at the bottom.

Getting down on one knee was the second-easiest decision he ever made in his life. The first was choosing you to begin with.

"Sugu," Your voice quivered, breath hitching in your throat.

"I bought this for you three years ago," He admitted, dark eyes piercing through to you, studying the way your face seemed to glow from the light of the lamp. And sure, of all the ways he'd imagined this moment going, he never once pictured it like this. But that didn't matter. Because this was real. Raw. "I love you. I did then, and I do now, and if you ask me again in fifteen years, I'm sure I will then too."

He popped the ring box open, and he didn't think your mouth could drop open any more but it did, your cute little gasp making his pulse thrum louder in his ears while your attention flickered back-and-forth between his sharp stare and the ring he hoped you'd accept.

"Marry me."

It wasn't quite a question, or a plea. An open statement of affection, a quiet promise of a lifetime of it.

You swallowed, barely bobbing your head up and down in a nod at first, a slow smile taking shape on your lips like you still couldn't believe it.

"O-okay," You stammered, an airy laugh slipping out while you tried to blink away the disbelief. "I-"

He grabbed your left hand where it was still hanging by your side, plucking the ring out of the box and slipping it on your finger, swiveling it a little around the knuckle for it to sit snugly at the base.

"You're really serious? No take backs, okay?" You murmured, holding your hand up to admire the way it glittered even in the low light while he laughed. You tugged him up to his feet by his hand, pressing yourself against his chest and glancing up at him, a hint of something unsure still lingering in the lines of your face. "You're mine."

That was supposed to be his line.

Then. Now. Always.

"We can go sign the paperwork Monday if you want, or have a wedding, before or after the baby-"

"I don't care how we do it," You interrupted him this time, reaching up to cup his cheek. The gentle touch, your soft fingertips, the adoration in your eyes when you got up on your tiptoes to plant a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I always kinda wanted to see you in a white dress," He chuckled, grabbing your chin between his fingers to give you a proper kiss back, sucking on your lower lip, the taste of blue raspberry still on your tongue.

"Yeah? Seven months pregnant?" You laughed back when you broke away for a breath.

"You seriously have no idea what you do to me," He breathlessly murmured into your skin.

"You could show me," You tilted your head to the side, but your eyes flickered back to the ring on your finger, the proof of it already there.

"Tease," He muttered as his lips ghosted over your cheek, pulling you back over to the edge of the mattress. He used his free hand to tug the box back down to the floor, nudging it away with his foot.

Half past four in the morning and he was taking his fiancèe to bed instead of his girlfriend.

He made sure you were comfortable first, readjusting you until the pillows were nestled under your head, ignoring your giggles while he moved the blankets aside and climbed up after you, hooking a leg over his shoulder after he peeled your underwear down your thighs.

"I was kidding," You laughed while he licked a long stripe up the inside of your thigh, the sound turning into a pretty gasp when he dipped his tongue inside.

"I wasn't," His voice was muffled into your skin, fingers dipping against the soft flesh on your thigh and hip as he held on tighter, his tongue slipping inside deeper, dragging the muscle along the inside of your walls.

A taste he missed, too long since you last let him try it.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, moaning as he practiced steady patterns, pulling him closer into your heat while he used your hips like handlebars to refuse to let you squirm away from him again.

You still tried, writhing under the weight of his palms, although he knew his clipped nails wouldn't leave a mark.

"Oh," You squeaked, a cute strangled noise escaping when he dragged his tongue out and ran it over your clit, tracing small shapes with the tip of it.

"Better get used to being mine, baby," He hummed, peeking up to watch the way you still shivered at the sound of his voice, how you were finally about to be his in every sense of the word.

"I always was," Your lighthearted laugh cut off by another lewd moan, your hips still trying to arch up.

Planting open-mouthed kisses along your swollen bud while your fingers tugged at his scalp, your gasps of his name cut through the quiet.

Your thigh still up on his shoulder to give him easier access, the muscles pulling tense under his grip and the way your breath had started to stutter let him know you were close before you managed to barely stammer it out.

"Please, please, please."

Your legs were trembling, soft whimpers that were almost incoherent imprinting themselves in his memory while you unraveled underneath him, his tongue cleaning you up like it hadn't caused it. Teasing you before you managed to piece yourself back together, sucking softly on your oversensitive bundle of nerves just for you to let out a whine of his name.

"Tired, baby?" He couldn't help his smirk, leaving a kiss on the inside of your thigh before climbing off the bed to snag you a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser, slipping it up your legs for you so didn't have to do the awkward shuffle of getting it back on.

"Maybe," You admitted, rubbing your eyes as you patted the spot next to you for him to lay. "I am growing your baby."

He smiled.

"We can sleep in, alright?" He could feel his own eyes crinkle, flicking the light off on the lamp, the faint moonlight cutting the dark of the room. He pulled the covers up as he got in his side of the bed, readjusting until your head was resting on his chest.

Suguru usually got up before you, made breakfast and brewed the coffee and started the laundry, but tomorrow (or today, technically)? He would spend the sunrise holding you close and wait for you to wake up to take you out for brunch or lunch or whatever you wanted.

"Hey, Suguru?" You murmured, stifling a yawn as you peeked up at him through heavy lidded eyes.

"Mhm?" He stroked your hair back, admiring his future wife snuggled up in his arms.

"I love you."

want more dilf!Suguru with his post-partum wife? here!

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[aliienangel]

ᨳິ ׂ 𓈒 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 .. 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 enjoys flustering you with his hot praise ⸝⸝ ྀ

suguru is already ruining you, balls deep and perfectly hitting your sweet spot relentlessly. always able to tell just what will drive you insane, what will have your walls trembling and eyes rolling. he reads you like a book, which is why he's being evil and singing you sinful praises.

"you feel so good, pretty," he hums low, leaning down so he can speak right into your ear, "those little sounds you're letting out are letting me know you feel the same."

you bite your lip to hold back those exact noises he's talking about. whinging at him to, "stop." your words ring hollow to even your ears though. fingers gripping him tight, legs wrapped around his slim waist to keep him trapped inside you.

"i'm just trying to tell you how hot you are," a laugh passes his lips, amused. "you're all twitchy and worked up, i love it."

your cunt drips around him, soaking him in even more slick the more he talks, "sugu, stop– hng– stop talking."

he ignores your words, "shhh, listen." his big palm covers your mouth so you'll be quiet and focus in on the wet squelching of him fucking your pussy. "god, you're so wet. creaming all over me," letting out a wistful sigh, like he dreams about this.

his hand stays on your mouth, "can you feel the way you're pulsing around me?—" sentence cut off by a drawn out groan, and then picking back up like he didn't just almost fall apart, "i can, i can and it feels fucking divine."

suguru can feel the way your skin flushes and heats up under his touch, so obvious to him how much you're enjoying his taunting despite your whining. spine tingling from how much he enjoys this, how good it feels.

your eyes meet his and you break, waterline brimming with unshed tears. the pleasure is overwhelming you, as well as his humiliating praise that you enjoy far too much. not able to tell him to shut up and not really wanting to anymore anyways. your lips press a soft kiss to his palm and he coos at you.

"you're so pretty," he removes his hand and flattens himself to you completely, head tucking into your neck, "my pretty baby. my pretty, pathetic, baby."

his pelvis grinds against your clit, his cock throbbing inside your walls as he keeps pressing kisses to your skin, along with his murmured words. your stomach flips from the stimulation, cumming on him, soaking his dick in fresh, honeyed slick.

"ah, there we go," he sighs. head tilting down so he can glimpse how his shaft looks as he pulls out, dripping obscenely from your orgasm. "messy little thing." and he doesn't sound the least bit disappointed about it.

"you're so evil," you pout, trying to ignore your lingering need. his cock still hard and half-way inside your shaking pussy.

"you love it," suguru stuffs you full once more, his chest rumbling with a moan, "i know just how horny it makes you."

[princeable]

suguru is obsessed with aftercare...and you apparently

There’s a soft rock song playing in the background when Suguru finally finishes inside you, his hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead and his eyes looking at you with that soft gentle quality he only reserves for you. 

He swipes his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter open, allowing for the last wave of post-orgasmic bliss to wash over you. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Suguru whispers softly, slowly making his way out of you and peppering kisses along your jaw, neck, and chest. 

“Hey loser,” You reply back, smiling up at him as your eyes drift close again. 

Suguru slowly gets up, making you groan as you feel the loss of his weight and his warmth. “Come on, you should shower,” He says, lifting you up with his strong arms and carrying you to the bathroom. 

He strokes at your hair and allows his hands to roam all of you, as if he’s trying to remember you through engraving your body on his fingertips. 

You push at him delicately, creating distance as you stretch out your limbs languidly. 

“I have to shower,” You say faintly, your voice hoarse and your throat a little sore. Suguru closes the distance once again, kissing your lips with fleeting warmth and slowly trailing his hands all across your body again. 

“I don’t see why I have to go for that,” He mumbles in between kisses, alternating from kissing your lips, to your earlobes, to your neck, and to your jaw. 

“I have to shower,” You reiterate, feeling a soft giggle bubble in your throat as you feel his touch hovering over somewhere ticklish. 

“Exactly, let’s go,” Suguru says, dropping his hands to yours and leading you towards the bathtub. 

“I don’t remember showering being a group activity,” You chuckle as you see Suguru pout. 

He shakes his head, his long raven hair falling perfectly over his shoulders and accentuating his form as if giving him an outline. “It is now,” He replies defiantly. 

You shake your head and give him a look that has no heat in it whatsoever—only love, a quiet bubbling love that is subtle but definitely there. “Well you can find someone else to shower with because it won’t be me.” 

Shaking him off of you, you make your way to the shower, stepping in and you’re about to turn on the water before you feel someone wrap their strong arms around your waist. 

Suguru pulls you into a deep kiss, a one that is not messy but slow. It’s slow and it’s purposeful. A love letter laced in tongue. 

He gives you a soft laugh when he hears you moan softly into his lips, pulling back to brush hairs from your face and tuck it behind your ears, “It wouldn’t be the same,” He says finally after looking at you for ages. Stroking at your cheek and holding your jaw. 

“What?” 

“It’d have to be you, it’ll always be you baby.” 

You look at him incredulously, your heart beating a mile a minute before you watch him turn away and walk out of the bathroom, leaving you to shower like you asked. 

You can’t help but miss the way his arms slotted around you perfectly, and the way his breath felt on your skin as he poured out his sentiments. 

When you finish, you see Suguru on the bed, hair wet and wearing a big band tee and long pajama pants, smoking a cigarette while looking out the window. 

You climb on the bed and slot yourself right in between his legs like you belong there—and part of you thinks that in more ways than one, you do belong there. 

He reaches up at your face and cups it in his hands, pulling you down to kiss him. Soft, sweet, and deep like everything is with him. 

He palms at your hair, and kisses you like he means it—like he really wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you. 

When you pull back you give him a smile, your voice dipped in honey and totally saccharine, “You smell like cigarettes.” 

He laughs, “You know you love it.” 

“Yea i do.” 

[holy-smut]

fuuuuuuuck i just read through a whole bunch of tomedd shit i made who knows how long ago

its. so hot. aoughhhhh

[forriku-deactivated20260315]

geto fucks you so sweetly . .

“shhh, my sweet girl… eyes on me, yeah? just like that.”

suguru’s voice is velvet soft, honeyed, even as his hips snap forward in a brutal, deep thrust that makes your whole body jolt against the mattress.

his big hands cradle your face like you’re made of glass, thumbs brushing over your flushed cheeks while he sinks impossibly deeper, his fat cock stretching you open, kissing right up against your cervix, making your tummy bulge everytime he bottoms out.

“s-sugu… too deep… you’re so big…” you whimper.

“i know, baby, i know,” he coos, pressing the softest kiss to the tip of your nose. “you’re takin’ me so well though. my perfect little thing, hm? feel how full you are? that’s all for you.”

he gave your another hard thrust. your legs shaking everytime he snap his hips. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room but his touches stay gentle, reverent. he dips down, tongue flicking out to catch the fat tear rolling down your cheek, licking it away slow and tender like it’s something precious.

“you look so pretty when you cry f’me. makes me want to fuck you harder, baby.”

your legs tremble around his waist, nails digging into the thick muscles of his back while he fucks you hard enough to make the headboard knock against the wall. but his mouth never leaves your face. kissing your eyelids, your temples, the corner of your trembling lips. everywhere his lips could reach.

“s’too much… sugu—!”

“you can take it, sweet girl. you always do.” he murmurs against your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there while grinding in deep circles, stirring your insides until you’re sobbing. “look how good this pussy’s grippin’ me… like she doesn’t wanna let go. she loves bein’ stuffed full, doesn’t she?”

you nod frantically, tears slipping free, your words dissolving into pathetic little whines.

he smiles softly, even as he starts pounding faster, harder, his thick cock rearranging your guts with every snap of his hips.

“that’s my good girl… my pretty, pretty baby.” another kiss to your sweaty brow. “gonna fill you up so nice, okay? gonna give you everything you need.”

his thumbs swipe under your eyes again, collecting more tears, kissing them away one by one.

you’re shaking so much. your poor pussy fluttering around him, you’re so close. so close it hurts.

“cum for me, angel,” he whispers, lips brushing yours in the gentlest kiss. “let me feel you. let me feel that pussy squeeze me in.”

you shattered in his arms. cumming so hard that your back arched, legs shaking violently but he just holds your face tighter, kissing every inch he can reach while he fucks you through it, slow and deep and devastatingly passionate.

“there you go… that’s it, my sweet girl. so perfect... always so perfect for me.” and then he follows right after, giving you two more hard thrusts after stilling and holding you down, his cock unloading thick spurts of cum deep inside you. he cums so much it leaked around his shaft. making a puddle of cum on the sheets.

he stays buried to the hilt even after, still thrusting lazily into you, kissing your tear-streaked cheeks until you’re boneless and smiling underneath him.

you felt so utterly fucked.

just like always.

first time writing for suguru kinda nervous...

[janeisoffline]

Silence (18+)

Parings: Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Higuruma x Reader, Toji x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader

Summary: JJK men reacting to you being silent during sex.

Content Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, praise, degradation, hair pulling, choking, slight overstimulation, spanking, edging, punishment, rough sex, finger sucking, dacryphilia, biting, blood, squirting, breeding kink, begging, slapping/clit slapping

Satoru Gojo

Gojo is always so cocky during sex, and for good reason too. He knows what he does to you, knows how to make you feel good, how to get you writhing and cumming from his cock in record time. Which is why you thought it would be a perfect idea to mess with him.

Your back is on the bed, legs lifted on either side of his body, his cock shoved deep inside your pussy maintaining a relentless pace. Not a single sound slips from you, and it is proving to be difficult to keep it that way.

Breathing coming in short puffs from the force of his hips, you try your best to act unaffected. Your fingers don’t tangle in the sheets no matter how much you want to; your head doesn’t press into the pillow even though your body is begging to arch into his touch. You gaze up at the ceiling, your eyes not even shutting from the pleasure, and that is exactly what gets him.

“There’s no way,” he huffs, laughing out softly from the absurdity of this situation.

Your eyes fall on his, held tilting in question, doing your best to feign your innocence but you know if you open your mouth for a second you will moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“There’s just no way I got this bad in the span of 12 hours. I just had you moaning like a crazy woman on my dick this morning,” he says, his pace slowing down, perfect for you to keep up the act.

“Guess you did,” you reply, bringing your gaze back up to the ceiling.

He scoffs, truly appalled, doubting his abilities for a split second before considering the possibility that you just might be trying to play with him. Gojo’s hands find your waist, fingers gripping your skin punishingly tight, angling your hips up just right and you know you are done for.

“F-fuckk, Toru!”

The second his hips snap to yours, your eyes shoot open, toes curling, fingers gripping onto the sheets for dear life while an obscene moan rips from your throat. His cock twitches against your sweet spot, tip rubbing hard on your cervix, and the most satisfying grin pulls at his lips.

“Could’ve just said you wanted to play pretend,” he says, voice low and rough, words rumbling out from deep within his chest from the feeling of your walls fluttering tight around his length.

He holds your hips up, maintaining the perfect position, and pounds into you as if he is a starved man who is insatiable when it comes to your sounds of pleasure. Grunts and groans leave his lips, your legs wrap around his waist, your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper inside you, not wanting to waste another second with your antics.

“It’s s-so good,” you whimper, burying your face in his neck as your cheeks heat up, moaning right into his ear just how he likes.

“Yeah? Take it all, won’t you pretty baby?”

He slams into you harder, faster, his strokes growing relentless and punishing as he does his best to fuck out every last sound you could make. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up and leaving no space inside you empty.

The only thing you could feel is him. The rough skin of his chest dragging against your nipples, the softer skin of his abdomen catching on your clit with each thrust, your nails dragging down his back from the pleasure coursing through you, all of it pushing you closer and closer to your sweet release.

“Y-yes Toru. So c-close, please,” you plead, begging him for anything and everything he could give you.

“Really thought you could be quiet when you’re this close,” he asks, not expecting an answer, continuing to fuck into you, unable to resist the sweet sounds of your begging.

“Go ahead then. Cum on my dick.”

His words sound like music to your ears, rough around the edges from his own pleasure, rumbling out from him like they always did when he was deep inside your pussy.

Your body goes rigid, muscles drawing taut, nails dragging down his back while your toes curl against his hips. Cum gushes from your entrance, obscene moans pouring from you as it leaks out around his length. It drips from his skin, making a mess below, staining the sheets with something undeniable.

“That’s i-it. Such a g-good girl,” he grunts, throwing his head back in pleasure, feeling the way your walls tighten and rhythmically pulse around him, bringing him right to the edge of his climax without having to do much work.

He buries himself to the hilt after a few more thrusts, a guttural groan slipping out from how slick your walls are, from the pleasurable pain of your nails digging into his back, and he gives himself the same release.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, leaking out when there is no more room left. It pools on the sheets below, sticky and mixed with your own, proof of the pleasure he thought he just couldn’t give you anymore.

His body slumps against you, his forehead rests on yours, heavy breathing filling the air, his heartbeat whooshing in his ears from the blood rushing through his body. Your breath mingles with his in the small space between your lips, your body on fire from his touch, weak from his undoing, and starved for more.

“For a second there... I actually believed you,” he says breathlessly, laughing softly, eyes boring into yours.

“Toru, you really think you could do anything other than make me feel good in every single part of life,” you question, moving your hands to cup his face.

“Of course not.”

You giggle, pulling his face towards yours, placing a soft kiss to his lips in agreement with his cocky ass reply. The kiss turns sloppy, his cock stirring back awake still stuffed inside you, your clit swollen and pulsing once more.

“Then give me more. Make me feel good all night if you think you can,” you say, shrugging your shoulders in indifference, biting back a smirk from your teasing words.

The grin that spreads across his face while he rolls over onto his back, taking you with him until you’re seated with his cock shoved against your cervix, makes you know that you are in for it.

Suguru Geto

Your back is pressed against Geto’s chest, his cock deep inside your pussy, pressed against your cervix while your walls flutter around him undeniably tight. No sounds fall from you while he thrusts, not a moan, not a whimper, absolutely nothing. You don’t even touch him like you usually do.

It is cruel really, but you are still buzzing with annoyance from the argument the two of you had last night, still wanting to get back at him for eating the last ice cream cone after you asked him to save it for you since he ate all the rest.

He notices quickly, hips stuttering for just a second before continuing to roll deeper into you, quicker, angling upwards to hit your sweet spot, anything to draw out your pretty noises. One hand planted on your hip, the other cupping your jaw, he fucks you slowly, sensually. He makes it hard to stay quiet.

You face away from him, biting your bottom lip, breathing hard through your nose while your eyes shut tight and fingers grip onto the sheets where he can’t see. He groans softly when your walls clench around him, cursing under his breath from how tight and wet you are around his length, wishing you would say something, anything that will let him know you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Are you not feeling good, sweet girl? We can do something different, or we can stop. Whatever you want baby,” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your ear, pulling your face towards him so his eyes can graze over your flushed face.

His low, rough morning voice mixed with the reassurance and doubt makes your stomach turn with guilt. You push against his abdomen, signaling for him to pull out, and when he does you flip onto your other side to face him.

“I was trying to stay mad about the ice cream Sugu. Why do you have to be so sweet sometimes,” you pout, looking up at him through your lashes with the biggest doe eyes you could muster.

He laughs softly, cupping your cheek and pulling your lips against his.

“Sorry for ruining your sulking, but don’t you think it can wait,” he says, tilting his head to the side in question, a smirk pulling on his lips as he gazes down at you.

Without saying anything more, you press closer to him, chest to chest, lifting one leg up over his before nudging his cock at your entrance once more. He slides in slowly, filling your pussy again, stretching your walls to accommodate his length. Groans rumble out from his chest, vibrating against your skin, and you let yourself moan out from the pleasure of him.

“There you are,” he whispers, placing a feather light kiss to your ear, his hand moving to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

His other hand splays on your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit with ease and moving to rub slow, tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Whimpers and whines pour from you now, not bothering to hold back any longer, letting your hips grind against his thumb and your nails dig into his arm.

“So g-good Sugu,” you whimper, moving your hips with his, meeting him at a new angle.

His cock brushes past your sweet spot, and you cry out in pleasure. Heat builds in your lower belly quickly. The feeling of your nipples dragging against his skin, peaking from the stimulation, mixing with his thumb rubbing your clit and cock thrusting against your sweet spot is enough to bring you so close to the edge.

“Gonna cum baby?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, pulling him closer, moving your hips with a frantic need, begging for it without having to say anything.

“Cum on my dick sweet girl. Let me feel you,” he says, voice low and thick with desire, his own orgasm sitting low, ready to snap like a spring coiled tight.

Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his cock as your walls pulse and flutter around him. You melt into his touch, giving yourself to him completely, letting him hear the moans and whimpers as a result of what he does to you.

“That i-it. Such a good girl,” he praises, watching your eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open ever so slightly, body twitching from the remnants of your orgasm.

His thumb slows on your clit when your body begins to jerk, trying to ride out your high as long as possible before letting himself reach his release. Thrusting continuously, groans and grunts fall from him, unashamedly as he savors the feeling of cum and slick coating his length.

Geto buries his face in your neck, hand moving to your hip, fucking into you at the same slow pace he has been maintaining this entire time. His hips begin to stutter, pace faltering, cock twitching deep inside of your pussy the closer he reaches his climax. With a few more thrusts, he’s burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan ripping through his chest.

“O-oh yes, feels so g-good.”

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, leaking out when there is no room left for more, creating a mess in between your thighs with shared cum as proof of pleasure. He thrusts in slower now, pushing his cum deeper, riding out his high, feeling your walls continue to pulse around him.

His body slumps against the mattress, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling your body flush with his before covering you with the sheets. He places tiny kisses to your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finally your soft lips.

“Do you still want to sulk?”

You roll your eyes, giggling softly, too tired now to do anything other than lay here with him.

“You already know the answer to that,” you reply, pretending to be annoyed.

“Of course I do.”

Kento Nanami

Nanami came home limping and bandaged, his eyes low from exhaustion, hair messy and suit dirty from work. His hands were on you the second he found you undressing for a shower. You sat on the sink counter, pulling off every last bandage, cursing him under your breath, irritation rising like bile in your throat.

It eventually ended up with his cock buried in your pussy, your chest pressed to the shower wall, Nanami’s hands low on your hips as he drills into you with the occasional hiss of aching muscles and open cuts.

Not a single sound comes from your lips, in fact, your mouth is closed in a tight thin line despite your want to moan. You are livid that your husband came home in this state, that he was even in a situation to warrant this in the first place. It isn’t his fault, you know that you shouldn’t be taking it out on him, but your mind is too clouded to be rational.

He notices, of course he does, he notices everything.

“Sorry if it’s not that good, baby. I’m just so tired...,” he says, barely above a whisper, his voice low and rough making it hard to hear over the water.

Your look over your shoulder, your gaze being met with an apologetic look on the handsome face of Nanami. Bringing one hand up, you cup his jaw, pulling his lips to yours. The kiss turns messy quickly, spit dripping from your mouth, groans falling from his, and his thrusts turn relentless.

You don’t bother with trying to be quiet.

“F-fuck, Ken. Feels so g-good,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him, his forehead resting against yours where your breath mingles in the shared space between.

One hand gripping the fat of your hip, his other slides down your body, lingering just below your belly button before finding your swollen, aching clit. He rubs tight, quick circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves, groaning when he feels your walls tighten around him from the stimulation, pounding into you harder with each moan, whimper, and whine.

“You sound so good when I make love to you,” he says, burying his face in your neck, kissing, licking, biting the soft, wet skin and leaving purple bruises behind in his wake.

Your pussy flutters around his length from his reverent praise, his words only making you moan more as they rumble out from his chest. His cock slides in, brushing past your sweet spot, nudging against your cervix and your walls clamp down tight. He pulls out, leaving only the tip in, and your walls do their best to suck him back in as if you never want him to leave.

“So wet and tight. You feel so g-good,” he groans, his grip growing tighter with each thrust, his hips rolling into yours at a frantic speed.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling up every last inch of your pussy, stretching you to accommodate his size as he leaves no space empty. Your hips grind against his finger, the angle changing with each glide, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again while your moans tear from your throat and bounce off the wet walls of the shower.

“So c-close, Kenny,” you whimper, pushing your ass back against him, looking to meet him with every thrust.

Your hands plant themselves on the tile while you look over your shoulder, taking in the sight of your husband pounding into you from behind. The muscles of his abdomen tense with every movement, his hand twitching with the need to touch your entire body, his face screwed into one of pleasure as he watches your pussy swallow his cock with ease.

It is enough to push you over the edge you walk the line of.

“Gonna c-cum, fuck,” you whine, shutting your eyes tight, mouth hanging open while obscene moans flood out with each and every slap of his skin against yours.

Your body becomes rigid, muscles growing taut as your hips drag across his fingers and his cock brushes past your sweet spot once more. Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his cock, dripping onto the tile of the shower before being washed away.

“That’s i-it. So beautiful when you c-cum on me,” he stutters, drawing out your high for as long as possible before giving himself the same release.

His finger eases up on your clit when your body begins to twitch, his hips rolling in and out of you slower now while your pussy clamps down and pulses around his familiar length.

“I-inside Ken... want it inside,” you beg, eyes locking onto his, hand falling from the wall to grip onto his wrist instead.

“Yeah?”

You don’t even have to say anything else. With a few more thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt, his seed spilling out deep inside your pussy with a guttural groan ripping from his chest.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood you, leaking out around his cock when there’s no room for more, sliding down the back of your thighs before the water has a chance to reach it. He pumps slowly through his orgasm, pushing him cum deeper, whimpering when your raw walls clench around his sensitive tip.

His body melts against yours, his heavy breathing and pounding heart being felt through your back, his skin scorching against yours. Hands sliding against your body, he worships you for everything you are, not missing a single each of your skin before sliding out of you.

No words are exchanged after, just silence as you clean the clotted wounds, and proof of pleasure from his skin, worshipping him in your own way even if you did curse him for the way he comes home majority of the time.

Hiromi Higuruma

Higuruma has been staying for overtime at the law firm every night for the past week, and it really irritated you that he let the other associates walk all over him. He comes home well into the night, eye bags a new staple to his look, tie loose around his neck while the rest of him looks disheveled.

Something about it got you going, but not enough to erase the irritation you felt this particular night.

You’re up on the kitchen counter, his hands on the back of either thigh while pushing your legs up, spreading them open to make room for him as his cock slams in and out of your pussy. Slick gushes from your entrance, getting the hem of his suit wet, and yet, no sounds fall from your lips.

Not a single one.

You do your best to feign indifference. Mouth drawn into a thin, tight line, eyes blank as they stare off just past him to distract yourself from the need to moan. Maybe it is cruel, but for a needy, irritated wife, you think it’s perfect.

He gazes up at you, tilting his head in question. Unfortunately for you, he knows all your tells. He can see you holding back, he can see the way you try to pretend like nothing he is doing is affecting you yet the second his eyes fall upon your face, your pussy is spasming around his length.

“So quiet... for what exactly,” he coos, not really asking a question, but simply letting you know he’s observing you like he always is.

His hand comes up to your face, fingers running along the length of your jaw, being oh-so-sweet before slapping you. It wasn’t too hard, hard enough to be a punishment, soft enough to be just the way you like it during sex, and you gasp as the sting of his hand burns through your skin.

Moans pour out from you after, whimper after whine after desperate moan. He rubs away the sting, his thrusts filling your body with pleasure, the pain meshing together until it turns into something sick and twisted that settles inside of you.

Your fingers grab onto his tie, pulling him closer, your legs pushing against your chest as he fucks you deeper, harder, faster just to pull the angelic sounds out of you.

“What do you need, baby? To cum? To cuss me out? Want me on my knees begging to fuck your pretty pussy?”

His words flow through you, rumbling out rough and low from his chest, vibrating against your skin and landing deep in the pool of heat bubbling in your lower belly. The skin of your knees rubs against your nipples, the fabric of his clothes brushing against your clit, his balls slapping against your ass as his pace turns punishing and relentless.

When you don’t answer, his hand slides down to your lower belly, teasing your sensitive skin before a sharp slap lands against your clit. You yelp out, tugging him closer, eyes landing on his as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Didn’t hear you.”

“Anything Romi, I n-need anything you’ll g-give me,” you plead, stuttering over your words, trying to rectify your mistake of not answering.

For a split second, guilt flashes in his eyes, anger churning in his stomach from the thought of his wife having to utter those words. He moves your legs to his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the counter now, and he places that same hand onto your clit forgivingly.

“I’m sorry baby... so s-sorry,” he groans, fucking you deeper, harder, apologizing for his absence in the rawest way possible.

He whispers his sorry’s over and over again, rolling his hips against you, sliding his cock in and out of you as if need consumes him. He kisses you passionately, swallowing your sounds of pleasure you previously withheld, humming when his greed is satisfied.

“So c-close, I’m s-so close,” you whine, hips squirming against the counter, rubbing against his fingers on your clit as your body begs to be giving its release.

“Cum on me. Let me make you feel good baby,” he pleads, denying himself of his pleasure until you have felt yours to the fullest.

His thrusts speed up, knocking against your cervix, brushing against your sweet spot when he angles his hips perfectly. His finger rubs your clit faster, matching the pace of his cock, taking a second to gather more slick to glide over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His words sound like music to your ears, his whispered apologies and praises going straight to the throb in between your legs, encouraging you to let go. Your body becomes rigid, muscles drawing taut as your release tightens in your lower belly, ready to snap at any moment like a spring coiled tight.

“Fuck, f-fuck, cumming R-Romi,” you whimper, mouthing falling out with various sounds of pleasure, eyes shutting tight as black dots cloud your vision, ankles locking tight around his neck.

Squirt shoots out of you, wetting everything nearby. His expensive dry-cleaned suit, the floor, the counter, his skin. Every thrust of his cock pushes more and more out of you. It leaks down your folds, dripping onto his length, allowing him to dig deeper with little resistance.

“That’s it. Give it all t-to me,” he stutters, his hips stuttering along with him, pace faltering ever so slightly.

He fingers slow on your clit when your body begins to twitch with overstimulation. Speeding up, he chases his own high, eager to spill his release deep inside of you. Head falling back, grip turning punishing on our skin, sure to leave bruises in the morning, a guttural groan rumbles out from his chest as his climax peaks.

“Shit, gonna fill y-you up so m-much.”

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls in everything he has to give, leaking back out when there’s no room for anything else. His cock twitches deep inside of you, tip leaking spurt after spurt of his seed. He pumps into you slower, pushing his cum deeper, wanting to keep as much inside of you as he could.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he slows to a stop, pulling him into you as he drops your legs from his shoulders. His body melts against yours, breath coming in ragged gasps, heart pounding against his chest. Burying his face in your neck, he kisses the soft skin, letting the both of you calm down and catch your breath.

“No more overtime Hiromi,” you say, voice serious again, irritation clearly displayed in your tone.

“No more overtime baby.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji has been irritating you all day. He loves to push your buttons, get on your nerves, see how much you can take before he fucks the attitude out of you like nothing happened.

But today, you have had enough, and right when he slides his cock deep inside your pussy, you make no noise, not a single sound falls from your lips. You bite back a moan, but smirk into the pillow at the same time in satisfaction when his hips stutter for a split second from the absence of your sweet sounds of pleasure.

His hand pushes against your spine, arching your back to give him the perfect angle, his other hand gripping the fat of your hip to bring you back on his cock with each thrust. It’s hard not to moan when he’s impossibly large and much deeper than you think is possible, but you don’t, and you refuse to writhe in pleasure, or make any movements that would suggest you are enjoying it.

“Huh,” he scoffs, laughing quietly before slamming your hips against his, trying to pull out any little sound he could.

Your breath comes in short gasps, muffled against the pillow as you bite your bottom lip. His pace grows relentless and punishing, fucking into you harder, faster.

“Why’re you so quiet, huh,” he asks, bending over you, his chest to your back while he places rough kisses to the skin of your shoulder.

You lift your head from the pillow, trying not to make a single sound from his cock digging against your cervix at this angle, and turn to look over your shoulder.

“Just a little bored, that’s all,” you answer, knowing it would rile him up, but that’s exactly what you wanted.

He doesn’t reply. Grabbing a pillow from his side of the bed, he slides it under your hips, pushing your ass down to get you into prone bone with his cock still shoved deep inside of you. Sliding his hands down your side, his rough calloused fingers glide over your skin, sending shivers down your spine from how soft the touch is.

Toji pounds into you once, the angle hitting your sweet spot perfectly, the pressure on your cervix enough to make you cum on the spot. Your clit brushes against the smooth fabric of the pillowcase, your nipples dragging across the sheets, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough for the taste of metallic to flood your mouth.

“This is sooo boring,” he coos, and you can hear the smirk on his face through his words.

He plants his hands on either side of your head, fingers gripping onto the sheets, and soft groans rumbling out from his chest when your walls flutter around his length. You gaze up, finding him looking at your first, his eyes narrowing on your face where a single tear slides down your cheek.

He slams into you again, this time watching your face very closely. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hanging open, breathing ragged and rough around the edges from a suppressed moan and he hums in satisfaction.

“Cause my dick is just so boring, isn’t that right,” he says, voice low and rough, head tilting to the side in question.

When you don’t reply, his picks up his pace, drilling into you from behind. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim before pulling out again, but leaving no space inside of you empty for long. Tears stain your cheeks, drool dripping from your chin where it’s managed to leak out past your swollen lip.

“Let me hear you,” he growls, punctuating each word with a punishing thrust, one hand coming up to grip your hair so you can’t bury your face into the pillow.

His hold on your hair is painfully tight, and the second his cock brushes past your sweet spot all your pent-up sounds come flooding out.

“It’s too m-much Ji,” you whine, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other pushing against his lower abdomen in a silent beg for him to let up on your poor pussy.

“I thought it was boring,” he says, groaning softly when you push your ass back against him, meeting his every thrust.

“Too c-close,” you whimper, your clit dragging across the pillow, his cock stuffing you overwhelmingly full, your nipples pointed and so sensitive against the bed.

He smirks, pushing himself up and wrapping one hand around your neck. Hair tangled in his fingers, airway cut off just enough to make it pleasurable, he pounds into you over and over again. The force of his thrusts knocks the breath out of your lungs, your whimpers and whines coming out as gasps with his name laced into them.

“Go ahead then, cum on my boring dick.”

Your hips rock against the pillow, desperately trying to find the friction your swollen, aching clit needs so badly while pushing your ass back to let Toji sink himself deeper in your pussy. He groans out, the sound vibrating through your body, his fingers feel electric on your skin.

“Cum, or I’ll stop,” he says through grit teeth, his fingers on your neck tightening from each thrust he gives.

His rough voice sounds like music to your ears, landing deep in the pool of heat in your lower belly, pushing you over the edge.

Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out on his length, your walls pulsing and fluttering with each slam of his hips against yours while he draws out your high for as long as possible. Your clit throbs with overstimulation, your body weak and tired, incoherent words mixing with the moans pouring from your mouth repeatedly.

“That’s i-it,” he stutters, pace faltering the closer he reaches his own climax.

“In me, p-please Ji,” you beg, nails digging into the skin of his abdomen, the fat of your ass bouncing against his skin with each aggressive thrust.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, make you all mine, let everyone see you big and round because of me,” he asks, groaning from the thought, only fucking you deeper to make sure his seed takes.

“Y-yes, please,” you whine, squirming your hips in overstimulation and need all at the same time.

With a few more thrusts he buries himself to the hilt, a guttural groan ripping through his chest, echoing off the walls of the bedroom. The bed creaks and shakes, the headboard slamming against the wall again and again, his grip punishing against your skin and lights sparks on your every nerve.

“F-fuck, gonna c-cum so deep in y-you,” he grunts out.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, his cock twitching deep inside of you while spurt after spurt fills you. It leaks out when there’s no more room left, dripping onto the sheets below, mixing with your own cum. He pumps into you slower now, grip not letting up, trying to stuff his release as deep as he can.

“Take it a-all," he growls, his pace only picking up speed, the sound of his cum squelching in and out of your pussy enough to keep him hard for many more rounds.

Ryomen Sukuna

In your drunken state, you decided that Sukuna was crazy for wanting to leave when you were clearly having such a good time at the bar. He asked you nicely multiple times, trying to convince you that it was past time to leave, but when you turned bratty and argumentative, he had enough.

He grabs your wrist and drags you out of the bar without looking back once. You spew nonsense at him while walking to his car, spewing even more when he unlocks it and opens the back door to push you inside, and you don’t stop even when he hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties to the side.

“Sukuna, why won’t you listen to me,” you pout, hands pressed against the leather seats, ass up in the air while your head is turned over your shoulder to watch him.

He says nothing, unbuckling his belt, sliding his pants and boxers down, and stroking his cock a few times before lining himself up at your entrance.

If he doesn’t want to hear it from you, then you refuse to make a single sound when he shoves his cock into your pussy.

He bottoms out, nudging against your cervix, rubbing against your sweet spot with a low groan. His hand slides down your back, right against your spine and he pushes down hard to arch you just the way he likes. Moving one hand to the back of your head, he keeps you still while his other hand grips at the fat of your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart, looking at the way your slick pours out around him, at the way your pussy swallows him whole with no complaints.

You bite back a moan when your nipples peak against the fabric of your shirt dragging along the warm seats, his balls pressed tight against your clit, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels as if he could split you in two. No matter how much you want to cry out for him, you don’t, and you don’t show any signs of enjoyment whatsoever out of spite.

The fact that you didn’t moan with him doesn’t register yet, in fact, he doesn’t realize you’re not making any sound until he begins to thrust, and the familiar sounds of pleasure don’t ring out. He tilts his head to the side in question but says nothing, deciding that you must want him to fuck you harder.

His hips snap against yours, quick and sharp, relentless and punishing all at once while rough groans rumble out from his chest. Balls slapping against your swollen, aching clit, bottom lip sucked into your mouth to prevent a slip in whimpers, your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on this fun punishment.

Your silence eggs him on, encouraging him to do whatever it takes for you to crack. He lifts one leg up, tilting your hips to give him the perfect angle, moving both hands to your hips to get in position.

With a single thrust your entire composure slips. A choked moan rips from your throat as he hits your sweet spot and cervix in one go, slamming himself inside of you hard enough to shake the entire car. You cry out, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasurable pain running through you while he immediately thrusts out to soothe the ache.

“K-Kuna! Too m-much... i-it’s too much,” you whine, trying to run from him, but he pulls you back on his cock before you can go too far.

“There’s my bratty girl. Took you long enough,” he coos, the smirk on his face present in his tone.

He drills into you, over and over again, not letting up for a single second. His hand comes down fast, striking against your ass, the soft skin rippling and burning from the touch. Watching a handprint form, he rubs his fingers over the sensitive area, turning the pain into pleasure before slapping your ass again.

“Fucking dirty slut, thought you could get away with this and being bratty,” he asks, fucking into you deeper, harder, relishing the way your breathing comes in short gasps, and you whimper every time his balls hit your clit.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, drool dripping from your chin, eyes shut tight while incoherent words mix with your sounds of pleasure. Your head is too dazed to find the right words to answer his question.

“S-so close K-Kuna, please,” you beg, pushing your ass back onto him, meeting him for every thrust the closer you get to your climax.

His thrusts slow immediately, your orgasm fading away as quickly as it crept up, and you cry out, tears staining your cheeks in frustration.

“Kunaaa,” you whine, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, but his hands grip your hips incredibly tight to keep you still.

“You didn’t answer my question, so why should I let you cum?”

“I’m s-sorry, please let me c-cum,” you plead, your words coming out as a choked sob.

He groans, low and rough around the edges, thrusting unintentionally hard into you. Listening to your begs, his cock leaks precum while nestled against your cervix, and he pulls his cock all the way out before sliding it back into your warm and wet walls.

“Crying for my dick, how disgusting,” he says, barely above a whisper, his cock twitching inside of you from the sound alone.

He leans down, burying his cock impossibly deep, his hand coming up to cup your jaw. Watching the tears run down your face, he thrusts against, the pace picking up exactly where he left off.

The second your mouth opens he slots two fingers in, and you waste no time before sucking on them. You gaze up at him, eyes red with tears, cheeks stained, drool leaking out around him, and he’s so close to spilling inside of you that he’s begging you to cum.

“Cum on my dick then. Be a good girl, yeah?”

You nod your head frantically, pushing yourself back on his dick, fucking yourself over and over again. His balls slap against your clit, goosebumps lining your skin, your nipples dragging across the seat, all of it stimulates you more than enough to have you cumming instantly.

You hum around his fingers as cum gushes from your entrance, your movements turning sloppy, your sucking ceasing the more you get lost in your orgasm. He groans from the sight: his girl so drunk on his cock after fucking herself until she's shaking with pleasure.

The thought alone has him cumming alongside you with a guttural groan ripping out from his chest.

Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, mixing with your own release as your pulsing, clenching walls milk him dry. His hips slow, fucking into you almost as if it’s an apology, drawing out the shared high for as long as possible until your body is trembling and twitching underneath him.

You slump against the seats, heavy breathing, heart pounding out of your chest, mumbling words that make no sense.

“When we get home can we fuck again, Kuna?”

He laughs softly, running one hand down the length of your back, caressing your skin with calloused fingers in contrast to that way he just fucked you.

“Of course, baby.”

Choso Kamo

You thought it would be funny to joke around with Choso, to pretend like the sex wasn’t good enough to have you moaning, but you immediately regretted it.

You’re fully seated on his lap, cock buried to the hilt, in reverse cowgirl while he is laying back against the plush pillows. Slowly, you slide up his length, and drop back down, biting your bottom lip to muffle the moans begging to fall free while your fingers grip onto the sheets in between his legs. His hands grip onto your hips, not guiding, but following you wherever you go.

“Feels so g-good,” he whines out, throwing his head back in pleasure, unable to contain himself when it comes to you.

Whimpers fall from him, from the way your walls grip his length, the way they flutter with every sound falling from him, the way he can see your pussy sucking him in every single time you pull up. He doesn’t miss the fact that you’re not moaning, actually, when you sit back down, he keeps you there, holding you steady in his lap.

“Baby...?”

“Yeah Cho,” you answer, looking over your shoulder just to find his face etched in worry.

“Am I... doing something wrong? Does it not feel good enough for you? Do you want to stop?”

The sight breaks your heart, and you feel so guilty for even thinking about pulling this joke on him. You know his mind is running a mile a minute. You slide his cock out of you, a soft whimper falling from him when your warm walls graze over his sensitive tip, and you straddle his lap, facing him instead.

“Like this instead,” he asks, already bending his knees to plant both feet on the bed, giving him a better advantage to thrust into you while placing both hands on your hips again.

“No Cho, I was just-”

You’re cut off by an obscene moan falling from your lips when his hips roll into yours, his cock bottoming out against your cervix, twitching against your sweet spot relentlessly from the sounds of your honey sweet pleasure.

“Is this better?”

He slides one hand down from your waist to your ass, his other sliding up the length of your back, splaying over the back of your head before pushing your body against his. Your nipples peak against his skin, your arms wrap around his neck, burying your face in the crook between his shoulder where your breath ghosts over his skin.

“So g-good,” you whine, pressing kiss after kiss to his neck, wet and open mouthed, your tongue tasting the sweet and salty mix of him.

He thrusts a little harder, determined to make you feel good, to redeem himself after thinking he was failing to. His fingers dig into the plush skin of your ass, the others tangling into your hair as his cock slides in and out of your sopping wet pussy.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim and pulling back out over and over again. He never leaves you empty for too long, and it leaves you whining and moaning against his skin.

“You feel so good around me. So tight and warm,” he praises, thrusting into you at a steady pace, making sure to hit your sweet spot each and every time.

His body burns against yours and your chest rests against his, nipples dragging across his rough skin, lips lingering on every inch of space you could find. Along his jaw, down his neck, his shoulder where your teeth graze and goosebumps are left in your wake.

The hand on your head moves to reach in between the two of you, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing tight, slow circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your body trembles against his, legs weak with pleasure, hips grinding against him to meet his every thrust.

“Cho, b-baby, I’m so c-close,” you stutter, movements becoming more frantic, need coursing through your body faster than you can manage.

“I know, I know s-sweet girl. I’ll make you feel g-good,” he assures, thrusting faster, harder, deeper inside of your pussy.

Precum leaks out of his tip, slick drips down his length, the slick sounds of sex mixing with skin slapping together fill the expanse of the room.

Your eyes roll back the closer you get to your climax, his pace steadily increasing, your mouth hanging open while moans pour out of you. Drool drips from your chin, your breath comes in short gasps, your body becomes rigid, your muscles drawing taut the more his cock digs into you.

“F-fuck, I’m c-cumming,” you manage to get out before you vision goes hazy with pleasure.

Your teeth sink into his skin, overwhelmed by the feelings rushing through you, and he groans from the pleasurable pain. Cum gushes from your entrance, dripping down his skin and pooling onto the sheets while your pussy pulses and clenches around his cock.

He guides you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, softening his thrusts and circles on your clit to draw out your high as long as possible before letting himself feel the same release.

“Always so g-good to me,” he whispers, his hips stuttering, pace faltering the closer he gets to his sweet climax.

With a few more thrusts he buries himself to the hilt, whimpering ‘thank you’s’ and your name over and over again as if you are his mantra. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your entrance, coating your walls, leaking out when there’s no more room for him left inside of you, and only then does his thrusts cease.

His hands slide down your spine, caressing your skin as he places kiss after kiss to your body, worshipping you for all that you are. You lick over the deep bite mark, silently apologizing, but you don’t miss the marks already there that have been fading for the last few nights.

“It was only a joke Cho,” you say breathlessly, resting your head on his chest, catching your breath from your intense orgasm.

“A joke?”

“I was purposefully not making any sound to see how you would react. I’m sorry baby,” you whisper, placing a feather light kiss to his lips, pulling back to gaze at him.

“I didn’t like that joke,” he pouts, kissing you again, deeper this time but soft, nonetheless.

“Promise I won’t do it again.”

│Masterlist│

Taglist: @1cckedheart, @blacgyal, @itskekeelise, @x2yuno, @cateleya-21, @gojosarmpithair, @mrskamikazekaito, @bl-nk-bla-k, @tojisgothiccbaby

[chosayi]

𝄞𝄢 husband!toru and his lactation kink.

note. dk how to feel abt this lol…. art by naomiiocha

after having your baby, your body changed drastically. especially in your breasts. they were all swell and full of milk now. causing stained clothes and discomfort.

satoru became more attentive then he’s ever been. always making sure that you and the baby are okay. but one day, when you and satoru were together, milk started to leak through the front of your dress…

and that awakened something deep inside of him.

he didn’t know what came over him. whenever he’d catch you breastfeeding your son, this weird feeling of jealousy would twist in his stomach. it didn’t help how the little guy looked just like him either!

one day, when you were out and asked him to feed the baby, he opened the fridge and stared at it like he struck gold. all of the baby bottles filled with the milk that you pumped out, practically winking at him to have a taste… just one little sip.

so he did. after feeding and burping him, he reached for another bottle absentmindedly. the moment he took a sip of the liquid, his eyes widened.

the flavor was immaculate, he never tasted anything like this before. it was so creamy and sweet—but not sickly sweet. it was pretty mild. honestly, it might’ve been one of the best things he’d ever had.

it might even be better than the kikufuku mochi he was always obsessed with.

before he knew it, the bottle was empty. he dragged his tongue over his lips, catching the last bit with no shame whatsoever. not only did it taste good, but it came from from your body? his wife’s bodily fluids?! it aroused him so much…

after that, bottles started disappearing. you noticed it pretty quickly. each time you checked the fridge, there was less and less. the baby was pissed too! making everything more weird. eventually, you asked satoru if he had any idea what’s been happening to them, and all he did was shrug. “i don’t know, baby. maybe we’re overfeeding him?”

one night, after the baby had finally fallen asleep, you stayed up. complaining about how your breasts were too full and achy. they needed to be drained.

to satoru, this was the perfect opportunity. he offered to help you drain some of it out. and of course, as his wife, you were more than welcome to have your husband take care of you.

but what you didn’t know was that you were making his peculiar fantasies finally come to life…

“mm—toru..! don’t suck too hard. that hurts..” you muttered. currently, your beloved husband was too busy. his soft lips cupped around one of your nipples while his hands fondled both your breasts.

“sorry, baby. can’t help it,” he said, voice muffled. “tastes sooo good. like honey nut cheerios… and almond,” he was in absolute bliss and his dick wasn’t even inside you. tasting it from the bottle was one thing, but sucking it straight out of your fat tits? now that was a whole new experience.

his white lashes fluttered, tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. the stimulation made more milk to spew out into his mouth. he moaned lowly when the liquid hit his tongue.

you mewled softly as he continued to massage your sore breasts, milk seeping between his fingers. your hand rested on your his head, scratching his scalp gently. he kept squeezing you, forcing more and more milk to spray out. he lapped it all up like a little kitten, some of it even dripping down his chin.

“fuck, toru. you’re so disgustinggg…” you moaned, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. 

he laughed breathlessly. “only for you,” he cooed. he began to tease your nipples by pinching them and giving them light flicks with his tongue. he rubbed the leaked milk around your areola with his fingers before licking it off with a long stripe. the relief was euphoric. you bit your lip, and your pussy that was already soaked gushed more slick.

he put both nipples in his drooling mouth and squeezed your breasts roughly together, encouraging more of the rich sweetness out of you for him to greedily drink down. “mmph.. so fucking sweet… my sweet girl,” he groaned.

“o-ohhh..! s-satoruuu,” you whined underneath him. shuddering as you felt his dick rub up and down your clothed folds. basically dry humping you. 

“shhh… m’ right here. just let daddy take care of you, kay? m’ almost done,” he murmured against your skin. a whimper fell out of your trembling lips. he continued his ministrations until he worked all the firmness from your tits, leaving them soft and doughy as they should be. 

when he was done, he let go of your nipples with a small pop! “feels better, hm?” he asked, bringing his wet fingers to his mouth, sucking the sticky liquid off.

“mhmm, yes… t-thank you,” you said shyly, still trembling. slick puddling in your panties from how good he treated you. he let out a low chuckle and leaned in, giving you a soft kiss. you could taste the nectarous liquid on his tongue when he slipped it past your lips.

“we should start doing this more often… oh, honey,” he started, looking at the ginormous damp spot between your thighs. there’s no way that he’s going to sleep without fucking you now. “guess i have something else to help you with.”

@chosayi 2026 ( ummm… would you say that you are… kinky?? )

[polaroidsex]

ᓚᘏ𑄝 suguru geto can not sleep unless his face is buried between your tits. mdni!

you’re propped against the headboard scrolling aimlessly when the mattress dips for the third time in ten minutes.

suguru doesn’t even pretend to be subtle anymore.

he slides down, long limbs folding around you like he’s claiming his territory, and before you can even set your phone aside his face is already pressing between your breasts with the same i’m-so-tired sigh. his breathe hits your skin. warm exhale then slow inhale. arms locking around your middle like he’s afraid the pillows might stage a coup and steal his spot.

you let thirty full seconds pass in amused silence.

“…suguru.” you whine followed by muffled grunt, he doesn’t move.

“you’re doing the thing again.”

he turns his head just enough that his cheek squishes against soft skin, voice thick and drowsy. “what thing. there’s no thing. i’m just… resting my eyes.”

“with your whole face.” you bite a smile.

“it’s ergonomic.”

you snort, fingers familiarly finding the silky strands at his nape. “you said that last week. and the week before. and also yesterday when you literally motorboated me in your sleep.”

“that was a dream,” he mutters instantly. “you can’t hold dream actions against me. that’s unfair trial rules.”

“you were awake when you rolled over and chose violence against my sternum at 2 a.m.”

“coincidence. gravity. magnetic north. pick one, baby.”

you tug lightly on his hair. not enough to hurt—just enough to make him huff in protest.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re cozy,” he counters without missing a beat. his voice has gone softer now, the edges blurring into that rare, unguarded register he only lets out when he’s half-asleep and too tired to keep all his walls standing. “and warm. and you smell like that vanilla body cream you think i don’t notice you reapplying before bed.”

your heart does a stupid little flip. traitor.

“…you’re still denying it though.”

he finally lifts his head, just barely. dark hair falls across his face, one sleepy eye cracking open to peer up at you like you’ve personally offended him.

“there is nothing to deny,” he says with exaggerated dignity. “i simply… prefer this elevation for optimal REM cycle alignment. it’s science.”

“uh-huh.” you slide both hands into his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp the way you know makes his eyelids flutter. sure enough, they do. “science.”

he melts, visibly relaxing on your skin. his shoulders dropping, body going heavy and liquid against yours like warm wax. the smug little “hmph” he tries to make comes out more like a contented purr.

“you love it,” you whisper, teasing.

he doesn’t answer right away.

instead he turns his face back into your chest, presses the softest, slowest kiss right over your heartbeat like he’s answering in morse code and murmurs so quietly you almost miss it:

“…maybe.” he mutters one word, a small whisper that’s barely there. but it’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting anything.

you smile into the dark, wrap both arms around his shoulders, and pull him closer.

“go to sleep, baby.”

he already is, breathing slow and even, lashes fanned against your skin, one hand curled loosely around your waist.

you place a kiss on top of his head and suguru geto? the self-proclaimed strongest, most aloof curse-user in existence, sleeps like a contented housecat with his face buried exactly where he wants it.

you’ll tease him again in the morning. but tonight tonight he gets to win.