lose yourself on the path of life

call me suri! (19) | she~her | make a cup of tea, grab a blanket and read ‘One of us is dead’| an overworked and burnt out student by day but an avid naruto fan by night wattpad @luv-kakashi ao3 @luv_shisui

[luv-kakashi]

.ೃ࿐ masterlist .ೃ࿐

One of us is dead

author's note prologue

chapter one - running chapter two - burn chapter three - konoha chapter four - academy chapter five - practise exam chapter six - brotherhood chapter seven - team two chapter eight - dango! chapter nine - police force chapter ten - missions chapter eleven - picnic chapter twelve - sleepover chapter thirteen - a lost scroll chapter fourteen - the byakuya chapter fifteen - suspended chapter sixteen - council of sisters chapter seventeen - nightmare chapter eighteen - tick tock

[emmyrosee]

Dare I say? College AU Toji and reader’s wedding’s wedding where Megumi is in awe and runs down to walk her

https://youtube.com/shorts/5VF9x1Utl_M?si=Wkhm0CFu1zoAZfT7

HELPPPPPP OH MY GOD

my baby fever is back can yall tell?

——

toji rocks back and forth on his feet, bouncing on his toes, fixing his cuffs, anything to distract himself from the nerves creeping up his body. he feels nauseous, terrified, excited, zealous, all in the best ways. you came into his life with nothing but open arms, and in return, he bought you the most beautiful ring his money could buy.

now he just has to make sure you’re walking down the aisle to meet him.

he’s never been a optimist, but he hopes to everything that may be listening to please ensure you don’t get cold feet.

tsumiki and megumi already took their time scattering the flowers down the aisle (you’d mentioned how you wanted megumi to hold onto the rings, but toji was far more set on his kids being flower tossers). they stand exactly where toji had directed, tsumiki smiling at the cameras and megumi shyly standing close to his dad.

he tugs on toji’s pant leg, big eyes blinking up at his dad- a silent reminder that no matter what, his son and step-daughter will always be there. he smiles down, ruffles megumi’s hair, and tips his head back to look at the sky in search of peace to calm the screaming thoughts of anxiety in his head.

but then, he hears megumi gasp. immediately, his hand lets go of his father’s pants and he makes a break for it, and when toji instinctively panics, it melts away when he sees you- megumi’s running to you.

tsumiki squeals and jumps excitedly, “she looks so pretty, daddy!”

he smiles as he watches megumi toddle down to meet you, arms extended. your best friend opens her arms to catch him, but he’s disinterested as he wraps his tiny arms around your dress. the whole crowd gasps when he steps on the long fabric, but you don’t seem phased by it- like you’d been expecting it.

you pass your friend the bouquet and scoop megumi up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he wraps his arms around your neck. tsumiki giggles and makes a beeline down the aisle to you as well, arms wrapping around your legs while you pet her hair affectionately.

“you’re both so silly,” you tease, and toji sinks his teeth into his lip to ward of the tears that well in his eyes.

you manage to work her up your torso with the help of your friend, pressing another kiss, this time to her styled hair. your arms are full of two small children, your best friend walking you down the aisle with a bouquet in one hand and a hand on your lower back in the other.

and then your eyes lock with toji’s.

he finally blinks a line of tears out. damnit.

you make your way down the aisle, composure and confidence in the air as you stride. toji hears the little whispers about how gorgeous you look and how beautiful you are, tsumiki even taking the liberty of answering back with an excited “she is!” you laugh at her words and she’s earned with another small kiss.

after what feels like an eon, you finally stand in front of toji.

you snicker.

“i told you you would cry,” you tease.

he chuckles and wipes a tear with his thumb, “yeah yeah yeah. still a lot of wedding left.”

you make a move to put megumi and tsumiki down, the young girl obeying while megumi tightens his grip, not ready to let go.

“megumi!” tsumiki whines. “they gotta get married! come on!”

the whole crowd laughs.

you laugh.

toji grins.

“yeah,” he says, letting out a shaky sigh.

“we gotta get married.”

[yihsch]

Mission 1: Unexpected Guest (part 1)

This is set somewhere between ch 121 and 128 in the manga

-> [Part 2]

[tired-biscuit]

are homemade cookies a good gift to give to someone, genuine question

[tired-biscuit]

guys they turned out so good

[tired-biscuit]

@owoozles here’s the recipe!

115g butter

180g all purpose flour

100g brown sugar

70g regular sugar

about 2 tea spoons of vanilla bean paste

1 egg

100-150g dark chocolate (basically measure it to your taste)

1/4 tea spoon salt

1/4 tea spoon baking soda

1/2 tea spoon baking powder

1/2 tea spoon corn starch

you melt the butter while constantly stirring, wait for it to foam up and then turn the heat off but keep it on the warm stove until brown flecks start to appear in it. afterwards, you pour it in a bowl and wait a couple of minutes for it to cool off a bit.

you then add in the sugar, egg, vanilla and mix (not too much though!) until it’s all combined and lighter in colour.

you add the rest of the dry ingredients and combine until only specks of flour are showing in the mixture. afterwards you cut up the chocolate into chunks and take about 20 bigger pieces out and keep them aside for later.

you mix everything together, just be mindful that you don’t mix to much because otherwise the cookies aren’t going to spread out as much as they should.

use an ice cream scoop to get the same portions and place them on a tray.

add the chocolate chunks on top and put the tray in the fridge for at least 5 hours, but i think it’s best if you keep them in there overnight.

heat up the oven to around 175-180°C and bake them for around 12-15 minutes until they’re a nice brown.

top with flaky sea salt and enjoy :)

[in-the-melancholy]

higuruma finding your 18+ twitter

Higuruma had a bad day.

It started with waking up late, spilling his coffee all over the counter, and ended with tripping while walking up the stairs to the apartment.

His sigh is heavy when he finally passes the threshold of the door.

You are not home. You are not home, and you were possibly the only person he wanted to see.

He suddenly remembers the conversation you two had this morning.

“I won’t be home till late, don’t wait up.”

Another heavy sigh leaves his mouth.

His briefcase falls to the floor, and his coat follows. He doesn’t care enough to put them in their assigned places.

When he collapses on the couch, the relief he feels is close to heavenly, but it isn’t enough to clear his sour mood.

He knows what he needs; it’s been in the back of his mind since some client at his internship flirted with him, but it’s quickly heading for the front.

His hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

It’s muscle memory: the way he types in his passcode, opens the app with the blue icon, and switches from his professional account to the one he made with a burner email, the username a key slam.

His pupils dilate as the first few posts come into view.

There was a shit ton of explicit stuff immediately, stuff that usually got the job done for him. A video of a guy holding up a camera to his girlfriend’s face while he fucks her from behind. But he isn’t in the mood for that.

He’s in the mood for a specific genre of pictures. Pictures of women with a certain skin tone, color of hair, and body shape. Pictures of women he could imagine are you.

It was outright wrong of him. You were his roommate, not his girlfriend, not even his friend with benefits. But he could never stop himself from indulging.

He unbuttons his slacks with one hand while he scrolls with another, staying for a few seconds on pictures that show potential, liking them, but moving on.

He scrolls past something that makes him backtrack.

A picture of a woman lying down in bed on her side in a pretty set of underwear, not anything fancy or extravagant. Her body is gorgeous, but it’s not what makes him backtrack.

What makes him backtrack is the heart-shaped birthmark on her upper thigh.

He recognizes it.

A while ago, the two of you went out for drinks. It was the day before your birthday, and you were within your rights to overindulge, so you did. It ended with you throwing up all over your clothes and all over the cab on the way home.

Higuruma had to strip you down to your underwear and throw the clothes in the wash himself because you were too drunk to do so.

He had looked because he couldn’t help himself, and he saw it. The birthmark. It burned into his mind.

And he’s seeing it right in front of his face again.  

His hand stalls from where he was plaming himself through his underwear.

He opens the page slowly and begins to scroll, reading every post and connecting all the dots in his head.

The day you two went out for drinks, and he saw the birthmark, the account had tweeted requesting someone to send money for drinks. A few weeks ago, when you got your nails done, the account replied to another saying thank you for nail money.

He moves onto the images page and recognizes your bedroom immediately.

He recognizes your body shape and the length of your hair, too.

You had a secret twitter account, and he found it.

It’s worse than when he pretends the other women in the pictures are you; it’s so much worse. He should close the app and go take a cold shower, but he can’t bring himself to.

His cock hardens as he scrolls through the account, his mind taking care to memorize every picture and every detail you share about your intimate life.

There’s a post about you touching yourself in front of a mirror that sends him over the edge.

He pulls his cock out of his underwear and begins to stroke himself, slowly and deliberately, head lolling to the side as he continues to scroll.

There’s a picture of you in a big t-shirt and lacy underwear that makes him freeze because he realizes the t-shirt is his. One you stole not too long ago on your laundry day when you had nothing else to wear. One you never gave back.

He almost cums then and there, but he stops mid stroke, holding his cock, beginning to try to take slow and even breaths to draw out his pleasure.

He gets in the pattern of it: stroking until he’s almost there and edging himself.

When he finally lets himself go, it’s to a picture of you on the very couch he’s sitting on, stripped down to cotton panties and a bra. It’s intense, more intense than when he’s slept with certain women, and he knows it’s because of you.

His breaths are erratic, and his cum is all over his hands and slacks.

He drops the phone and moves his free arm to cover his eyes, the other still on his cock, stroking himself to overstimulation.

A whimper leaves his mouth as his mind brings up made-up images, more explicit ones than the ones he was staring at moments before.

When he finally stops, he feels a buzz throughout his body and his heartbeat in his legs.

He stuffs himself back in his underwear and sits for a moment, picking the phone back up and scrolling through the account more, all the way until he finds the beginning of it.

The first post is sweet, a polite introduction, which makes a smile graze his face.

He refreshes the page and sees a post made a few minutes prior.

On my break, anyone wanna send me money for a snack? (;

He goes through the motions of anonymously wiring you 50 bucks through the linked website without even hesitating or really thinking about it at all.

After, He turns off his phone and wonders how he’ll face you when you come home knowing what he knows and did.

a/n: it falls flat towards the end but WHATEVER!! here!! have it!!!!!!!

series masterlist

[splurtz]

IS IT A CRIME TO LET YOUR LAW PROFESSOR FUCK YOU ON YOUR COUCH?

SYPNOSIS. after that heated encounter in his office, you've been dodging his lectures and ignoring every reminder of what happened that night. higuruma hiromi is more frustrated than ever—until he finally stops waiting and takes what you've both been circling for weeks.

— PART ONE

PAIRING. law prof! higuruma hiromi x law student! reader

WC. 4.4k

CONTENT. MDNI. professor/student. age gap. oral sex (f receiving). vaginal sex. unprotected sex. dirty talk. light degradation. usual rain trope lololol.

A/N. art by hunnismoker on x. first post after getting flagged !!!

you’ve been ghosting his class for almost two weeks.

not on purpose…at least, that’s what you tell yourself. it started innocently enough when midterms starts, three back-to-back exams in four days was hell. then the cold came, a scratchy throat turning into fever. you told yourself you’d catch up once the fog cleared but even after the fever broke, you didn’t go back.

a stupid group project drama piled on next. one groupmate ghosted entirely, another argued over every citation, and the third kept rewriting your sections without asking. you spent nights in the library staring at shared google docs, highlighter bleeding through pages you weren’t reading, mind drifting somewhere else entirely.

and underneath all of it was the real reason.

the humiliating, pulsing truth you couldn’t admit out loud even to yourself.

every time you pictured walking into that lecture hall, sliding into your usual seat, you felt his eyes on you again. the one he gave you that monday evening in his office when the door was locked and your knees were on carpet and his hand was fisted in your hair.

the memory played on cruel repeat, you could still taste him—still feel the stretch of your throat when he fucked it.

you tried to study criminal intent the way you always had: highlighters, flashcards, color-coded notes. but every time the mens rea slides appeared in your mind, you saw him at the podium instead. black marker in hand, diagramming voluntary manslaughter like it was nothing, his voice never failing to sound low and tired.

you imagined him turning to the board and writing your name in the margin next to “reckless disregard.” imagined him underlining “guilty mind” twice, then looking back at you over his shoulder with that unreadable stare.

your stomach would knot. your thighs would press together under whatever table you were hiding at. heat would crawl up your neck and settle low in your belly until you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe.

so you skipped.

there’s no way you could focus anyway.

one lecture became two. two became four. by the sixth absence you were submitting everything online. you polished every pdfs attached to curt emails with subject lines like “week 7 reading response” and “torts ii problem set.” you were still doing the work. still getting As on the assignments he graded without comment. no one could say you weren’t keeping up.

but he noticed.

higuruma hiromi doesn’t chase students. he doesn’t send gentle “concerned professor” emails with smiley faces or pull anyone aside after class with a hand on the shoulder and a murmured “is everything alright?” he isn’t built that way. he marks absences in neat red ink on the roster. 

so you knew he’d seen it. knew because the last assignment you submitted came back with feedback that was longer than usual.

“strong analysis of actus reus, but your discussion of mens rea lacks depth. consider the subjective vs objective standard more carefully. office hours are still available if clarification is needed.” 

was that an invitation? you don’t know.

you deleted the email without replying. closed your laptop. buried your face in your pillow and tried not to think about how badly you wanted to walk into his office again.

instead you stayed away.

it’s a thursday evening and the sky is already dark by 5:30, rain hammering the campus like it’s trying to wash the whole place clean. you’re huddled under the inadequate bus shelter outside the law building. you opened your phone for the third time to check the ETA, the next bus kept getting pushed back.

your fingers are numb on the screen. the cold seeps through your hoodie, makes your teeth chatter in small, embarrassing bursts.

you keep thinking about how stupid this is—standing here freezing when you could have easily just stayed in your apartment with the heater on and another excuse not to face him.

you only came here cause you needed air.

you needed it because every time you close your eyes all you see is him.

the tired lines around his eyes that made him look older and sharper. the way his jaw tightened right before he told you to open your mouth. the low rasp in his voice when he said “that’s it” while he pushed deeper, like he was grading your ability to take him.

it's making you insane.

it makes your chest ache now. it’s not just want, you actually need him. shame mixed with this stupid, gnawing need to know if he thinks about it too. if he replays the way you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, or the sound you made when he finally let you breathe. you hate how much space he takes up in your head.

headlights cut through the downpour suddenly. a black sedan slows, pulls right up to the curb in front of the shelter. the passenger window slides down with a quiet hum.

“get in.”

his voice slices through the rain noise.

you stare for a second. higuruma is behind the wheel, his face is half-shadowed, but you can see the faint crease between his brows.

you hesitate.

“i’m not waiting,” he says. “the bus is delayed. you’ll be here another half hour at least.”

you feel your pulse jump in your throat. it’s really him, sitting there in the driver’s seat with the same rolled sleeves and the same tired expression you’ve been replaying for weeks. part of you wants to stay right where you are under the shelter and keep pretending none of this exists, because getting in the car means facing whatever this is head-on. but the cold is biting through your hoodie, your jeans are soaked at the bottom, and the thought of waiting out here alone while he drives away makes your chest tighten. you already know you’re going to regret it either way, but standing here freezing feels worse than whatever happens next.

your feet move before you decide. you duck out from under the shelter, yank the door open, slide inside. the door thuds shut and suddenly the world is muffled…everything else gone quiet except your own heartbeat thumping loud in your ears.

higuruma doesn’t look at you right away. just checks the mirrors, pulls away from the curb smooth and controlled.

silence stretches awkwardly for a few minutes.

“address,” he says finally.

you rattle off your off-campus place a few miles away. he nods while he inputs it into the gps without comment. the screen glows blue on the dash … then more silence. the wipers sweep steady as you steal glances at him, his hands on the wheel look steady, veins standing out against his skin. 

“six absences,” he says out of nowhere. “consistent, aren’t you?”

“i submitted everything on time.”

“i know.” he flicks the turn signal, merges left. “your work is fine. better than fine but you’re not in the room. that’s still a problem.”

you swallow, “i’ve been busy. you know midterms…group stuff, also got sick for a bit.”

“convenient timing.” he chuckles as heat floods your face. 

“it’s not like that.”

“isn’t it?” he glances over. “you avoid the lecture hall, avoid my eyes. but you still send polished assignments like nothing happened.”

“i didn’t know what else to do.”

“you could have come to office hours.” his tone is even, you almost hear boredom in it. “asked for clarification on mens rea like i suggested in the feedback. like a normal student.”

but that’s the thing, there’s nothing normal about this.

“i didn’t think you meant it,” you mumble.

“i don’t say things i don’t mean.”

the car fills with quiet again. 

“where do you live?” you ask suddenly, desperate to change the subject, to make this feel normal.

he raises an eyebrow. “why?”

“just curious. i mean you know where i live now.”

“apartment near the courthouse district. walking distance, it’s convenient.”

“do you… drive students home often?” 

“no.”

another turn, the surroundings are familiar now. your complex is coming up soon.

“you’ve been thinking about it,” he says. 

“about what?” you play dumb.

“monday.” he doesn’t elaborate, he doesn’t need to.

you press your thighs together, try to ignore the pulse between them. “yeah.”

“and?”

“and it’s hard to sit in class pretending it didn’t happen.”

he pulls into the loading zone in front of your building. you hear the engine idles, rain drums on the roof. he finally turns to look at you—like really look. eyes dark and unreadable, but you want to believe that there’s something under the tiredness. hunger, maybe. or just patience wearing thin.

“then stop pretending,” he says quietly.

you stare at him. 

“come inside,” you whisper. “just… to get out of the rain.”

he studies you for a long second. then reaches for the keys, kills the engine.

the sudden quiet is deafening.

he gets out first, circles around, opens your door like it’s nothing. you step out into the downpour again, colder now after the heater. he doesn’t offer an umbrella…he probably doesn’t have one. just waits while you fumble for your keys, both of you getting soaked in the short walk to the entrance.

inside the stairwell it’s warmer, but your clothes are heavy with rain and dripping onto the concrete steps. you lead the way up, feeling him right behind you—close enough that you can hear the soft squeak of his shoes on each stair, feel the faint heat coming off him even through the damp air. 

your hands shake a little when you unlock the door. it swings open into the small entryway, string lights from the living room spilling faint yellow across the floor.

you step inside first, kick off your soaked sneakers by the mat. he follows closing the door, he doesn’t take off his shoes right away, he stands there observing your place. he takes a mental note of it, looking at the stack of textbooks on the coffee table, the open laptop with his class portal still pulled up, the half-empty mug of tea.

you turn the lamp on higher, then head to the kitchenette to grab towels. anything to keep moving. “i’ll get something to dry off with,” you mutter, mostly to fill the quiet.

when you come back with two towels, he’s already peeled off his wet jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. his shirt is clinging in places—white fabric turned semi-transparent over his chest and shoulders, sleeves still rolled up, forearms flexing when he takes the towel from you. 

he dries his hair roughly, then his face, eyes never leaving yours.

you try to focus on drying your own arms, but your gaze keeps dropping to the way the wet shirt outlines the lines of his body—the faint definition of muscle under the fabric, the dark trail of hair visible through the damp material where it sticks to his stomach. your mouth goes dry. you remember exactly how that skin felt under your palms last time, how his abs tensed when you swallowed around him.

he notices it. 

“you’re still shivering,” he says, voice low. he steps closer, takes the towel from your hands, and starts drying your hair himself. fingers brushing your scalp through the fabric. it’s so gentle that you froze.

“take the hoodie off,” he says after a moment.

your fingers fumble with the hem. the wet fabric peels away from your skin with a cold suck, leaving you in just your thin t-shirt and bra underneath. the shirt is clinging too, nipples hard from the chill and from him watching. you cross your arms instinctively.

he drops the towel on the floor. reaches out, hooks two fingers under the hem of your t-shirt, and tugs it up slowly. you lift your arms without thinking. the shirt comes off, lands somewhere behind you. his eyes drop to your chest, then back to your face.

“still cold?” he asks.

you shake your head. you’re burning now.

he steps in until your back hits the wall by the entryway. one hand plants beside your head, the other slides down your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through the bra making you inhale sharply.

“tell me to stop,” he says quietly.

you don’t.

you don’t want him to stop.

his mouth finds yours—harder than the first time he kissed you in your memory. there’s no buildup, just pure hunger. his tongue pushes in immediately and you moan into it, hands scrambling up his wet shirt, fingers digging into the fabric over his chest. he groans low against your lips, presses his hips forward so you feel how hard he already is through his slacks.

your fingers curl into the wet cotton of his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s already no space left between you.

he breaks the kiss first, just enough to speak against your lips. “kitchen counter now.”

you nod, legs shaky as you lead him the few steps into the narrow kitchenette. he doesn’t give you time to think. his hands find your waist, lift you onto the counter in one smooth motion like you weigh nothing. the cold granite bites into the backs of your thighs through your damp jeans. you gasp at the temperature difference.

“these need to come off,” he mutters, fingers already working the button of your jeans. you lift your hips when he tugs, helping him peel the soaked denim down your legs along with your underwear. 

you’re bare from the waist down now, legs dangling off the edge, thighs trembling slightly from the chill and anticipation. his eyes tracing the curve of your hips, the soft skin of your inner thighs, the way you’re already glistening for him.

“spread wider,” he says.

his palms slide up the insides of your thighs, thumbs brushing close but not quite touching where you want him most. you desperately shift forward, chasing his hands; he presses one palm flat to your lower stomach, holding you still.

“patience,” he murmurs. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. you can wait a little longer.”

“hey i told you i wasn’t–”

“ah yes, right… you were busy, right pretty?”

his thumb finally grazes your clit and your hips jerk. he does it again, slower, watching your face the whole time. your breath comes in short pants. he circles then collects wetness on his fingers before bringing them back up to rub slowly.

“you’re soaked,” he continues, “been like this the whole ride?”

“since you pulled up,” you admit, which makes him hum in approval. two fingers slide inside you without warning, stretching you open. you moan, head tipping back against the cabinets.

“look at me,” he says.

you force your eyes open. his expression is focused, almost clinical, but his pupils are blown wide and there’s a flush high on his cheekbones. 

he’s affected too.

he adds a third finger, stretching you further. the slight burn only makes it better. 

“good,” he mutters. “just like that.”

his free hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. his tongue fucking into your mouth in time with his fingers. you’re rocking against his hand now, chasing the pressure, little whimpers escaping between kisses.

“mhm…so good.”

he pulls his fingers out right when you’re teetering on the edge which you whine in protest.

“not yet,” he says against your mouth. “want you to come on my tongue first.”

he drops to his knees between your spread legs. the sight of him there, kneeling on your kitchen floor, hair damp and messy from the rain—it does so much things to you. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, hands gripping your thighs to hold you open.

he doesn’t tease this time. just leans in and licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. you cry out, hands flying to his hair. you feel him groan against you. his tongue is relentless, pointed flicks over your clit, then sucking it between his lips. he alternates, never letting you settle into one sensation long enough to predict it.

“hiromi—” his name comes out broken.

he pulls back just enough to speak. “you can go louder, right? wanna to hear it.”

“hiromi,” you moan again, louder this time. he rewards you by sucking hard on your clit while two fingers slide back inside, curling ruthlessly against that spot.

you’re dangerously close. your thighs start to shake around his head. he doesn’t let up, he keeps the same steady rhythm, tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem.

“come,” he orders, voice muffled against you. “now.”

your whole body tensing as you come apart on his tongue. you cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair, hips grinding against his face. he doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering from overstimulation.

he finally pulls back, his lips and chin all shiny. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stands slowly. his erection is straining against his slacks now.

it’s obvious and thick.

you reach for his belt with shaky hands. he lets you undo it, lets you push his slacks and boxers down just enough to free him. he’s heavy in your hand, hot and hard, precum beading at the tip. you start to stroke him making him hiss through his teeth.

“enough,” he says, catching your wrist. “want inside you.”

he lifts you off the counter, hands under your thighs again. he turns, carries you a few steps into the living room, and drops down onto the couch with you straddling his lap. the cushions sink under your combined weight. 

his cock is still hard, pressed up against your stomach now. he lifts you just enough to line himself up. you feel the blunt head nudge at your entrance…thick and insistent.

“relax,” he says, “breathe, won’t you? let me in.”

you try. you really do. but the stretch is already intense just from the tip pressing in, and your body tenses instinctively. you bite your lip, hands braced on his shoulders.

“i’m trying…” you mutter, half-laugh, half-whine. “...you’re big.”

he huffs a quiet laugh against your collarbone, the sound rough and amused. “i know but you took it fine with your mouth before, this should be easier. just relax those hips for me.”

his thumbs rub slow circles over your hipbones, coaxing. you exhale shakily, try to loosen up, but when he starts pushing in harder.

your breath hitches and your nails dig into his shoulders.

“easy,” he murmurs. “why’re you fighting me?”

“hey i-im trying,” you repeat pouting. “but y-you’re stretching me so much.”

he pauses halfway in, lets you adjust. his hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, then back down to your ass. he squeezes gently, spreads you a little more.

“there you go,” he says. “good girl. feel that? you’re opening up for me already.”

you can feel every inch of him...too thick and hot, it burns in the best way, that full, almost-too-much pressure that makes your thighs shake. inside, he feels heavy like he’s pressing right up against every sensitive spot at once. 

“fuck,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second. “you feel—shit…so tight. like you’re trying to keep me out and pull me in at the same time.”

you both groan at the same time when he pushes all the way inside.

“you okay?” he asks, one hand to come up to brush damp hair off your forehead.

“yeah,” you whisper. “just really full. you feel huge like this.”

“good,” he says. “you want me to move?”

you nod fast, breath coming in short bursts. “yes please.”

“then tell me properly. use your words. what do you want, hm?”

you swallow feeling slightly embarrassed. he’s looking right at you, eyes half-lidded but sharp, waiting. 

“i want you to fuck me,” you mumble.

he tilts his head, one eyebrow lifting. “that’s cute but i said properly baby.”

your thighs twitch around his hips. he’s still buried all the way inside, the fullness is driving you insane. you can feel every vein, every slight shift when he breathes.

“hiromi…” you whine, rocking your hips a little.

he tightens his grip, holding you still. “nuh-uh. no cheating. say it like you mean it. you’ve been hiding from me for two weeks—least you can do is ask nicely.”

you bite your lip, embarrassment and need twisting together until it hurts. “i want you to fuck me hard,” you say, louder this time, “pleasee…i-i need it.”

he smirks again, feeling satisfied. the corner of his mouth tilting up just enough to show he likes hearing you beg.

“there we go,” he says quietly, “that wasn’t hard, was it?” his hands slide to your ass, fingers digging in as he lifts you a couple inches, then drops you back down hard onto his cock. the sudden thrust makes you yelp.

“o-oh hiromi-"

he doesn’t let you catch your breath. starts fucking up into you. each thrust is deep enough to make your whole body jolt while the couch groans under you both, springs protesting every time he bottoms out.

“does this turn you on?” he asks, “fucking your professor on your shitty little couch? hm?”

you moan louder than you mean to, head tipping back,

“thought so.” he thrusts harder, one hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck, keeping your face close to his. “been skipping my class, sending me perfect little assignments like nothing’s wrong, but every time you typed my name you were probably dripping thinking about this. about me splitting you open just like this.”

you can only moan in return too gone to comprehend what he’s saying. he curses under his breath when he feels you clench, pace turning rougher. the wet slap of skin on skin is loud in the quiet apartment, mixing with your gasps and his heavy breathing.

“look at you,” he mutters, eyes locked on where you’re taking him. “taking it so well. my good little student, finally getting what she’s been aching for.”

he shifts his angle slightly, tilting his hips so every thrust drags right against that spot inside you. your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open on a broken moan.

his face is flushed, hair falling into his eyes, jaw tight with restraint. but he’s watching you like he’s memorizing every twitch. like this won’t happen again.

“tell me,” he says, voice dropping lower. “tell me whose cock is making you feel this good right now.”

“yours,” you gasp. “ah hiromi’s! only yours—”

he rewards you with a particularly deep grind, rolling his hips so the base presses hard against your clit. “that’s right,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna come on it again. gonna soak my lap like the needy little slut you are for me.”

his hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, firm circles that match the brutal rhythm of his hips. your stomach tightens, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“puh...please i’m close.”

“i know,” he says, voice strained now. “can feel you fluttering around me. go on come. make a mess…it’s yours anyway.”

it hits fast and hard. your whole body locks up, back arching, cry ripping out of your throat as you come apart.

“fuck—good girl—fuck—”

he keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking, until his thrusts turn sloppy. 

“where do you want it?”

“inside,” you gasp immediately. “please inside.”

that’s all it takes. he grinds deep as he comes, filling you up. he groans long and low against your neck, arms wrapping tight around your waist, holding you down on him while he rides it out.

for a long minute neither of you moves. all heavy breathing, sticky skin, the faint patter of rain still outside. you can feel him softening slowly.

he kisses your shoulder, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth.

“you good?” he asks quietly.

you nod against his chest, still catching your breath. “yeah. really good.”

he huffs a small laugh, hand stroking slow down your back. “what do you wanna do?”

you’re still straddling him. the living room smells like rain and sex. your forehead is pressed to his shoulder.

“stay,” you mumble into his neck. “stay like this a little longer.”

his fingers keep tracing lazy lines up and down your spine, from the nape of your neck all the way to the small of your back, then back up again. it’s soothing in a way that makes your eyelids heavy.

his gaze drifts past your shoulder, landing on the open laptop still glowing faintly on the coffee table. the screen’s dimmed but not off since his class portal is still pulled up from earlier.

“this where you took one of the photos?” he asks casually.

your stomach drops and flips at the same time. heat rushes back to your face so fast it makes you dizzy.

“what?” you whisper, even though you know exactly what he means.

he nods toward the couch. “right here on this cushion. ass up, looking back over your shoulder. the third one you sent. background looked familiar, same string lights in the corner, same throw blanket bunched up like that.” his hand pats the cushion beside you. “thought it might’ve been the bedroom at first but no kitchen light’s wrong for that angle. had to be here.”

you bury your face deeper into his neck, mortified. “hiromi…”

“what?” he sounds genuinely amused now, the low rumble vibrating through his chest. “you’re the one who attached it to an entrapment analysis. i had to look closely.”

you groan, half-laugh half-embarrassed whimper. “i didn’t mean for you to—i mean, i didn’t plan—”

“sure,” he cuts in gently, fingers sliding into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. “but you didn’t delete it either.”

you lift your head just enough to peek at him.

“you kept them?” you ask quietly.

he doesn’t hesitate. “yeah, all three. printed them out, remember? filed them under ‘supplemental materials.’” he pauses, thumb brushing your cheek. “don't get me wrong, it's not for grading, it's more for...reference...?"

“reference for what?”

“for nights when i’m grading papers at 2 a.m. and wondering why a certain student keeps disappearing from my lecture hall.” he continues, “or for when i need to remember exactly how you looked when you were trying to tempt me into breaking every rule in the faculty handbook.”

“and… did it work?”

he looks at you for a long second, then leans in and kisses you, a simple one. when he pulls back his forehead rests against yours.

“obviously,” he mutters. “look where we are.”

“shower soon,” he says again. “then bed. and tomorrow—”

“i’ll be in class,” you finish for him.

“get a better seat,” he adds. “where i can see you properly.”

you smile into his skin. “yes, professor.”

“brat.”

© splurtz 2026 — all rights reserved.

[goddamn-it-girl]

my man always looking like a god damn snack.

[tonycries]

Guilty

Synopsis. His crime? Missing Valentine’s Day. His punishment? You’re banning him from between those pretty Iegs of yours.  How long he lasts? Well…

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, séx bans, puníshments, he misses Valentine’s Day, spoiIing, grovelling, WALK HIM LIKE A DOG, semi-pubIic (Toji’s), DlLF!Nanami, bouquets, they’re RUINED (without your p), p talking, cervíx smoochín, aphrodísiacs (Choso), true form!Sukuna, DP, spítting, chokíng, overstím, DÚMBlFICATlON, needy JJK men, GOJO’S POWERS, FÉRAL Gojo, use of cursed energy, he’s slightly insane, matíng presses, manhandIing, proposals creampíes, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, BRÉEDING, REACTIONS, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. The laaaaaaaaast of the Valentine’s Day parts heheheh <33

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 23rd FEB. at 9:56AM

“C’mon, mama.” What a sight to behold—speed-walking through the gym, with a 6’3 hunk that followed you like a lost puppy. His green eyes were permanently on you, scarred lips pulled into a semi-grin that screamed anything but apologetic.

If this was anyone else, then you’d have signalled security.

But this was Toji Fushiguro - and Toji Fushiguro was never the type to admit when he was sorry. And yet…he admits that, this time, the fault lies solely with him.

After all, he did accidentally miss Valentine’s Day for some gig Shiu had given him…

Toji gruffs, staring down those losers that followed you with their eyes. “What do I need to do to make it right, girl?” He bets they couldn’t even bench as much as him. “Do you want more flowers? Do you want me to beg? Because I will beg.”

“I know. You’re forgiven.”

He perks up, “So am I still banned from fu-”

“Yes.”

Damn…

You’re turning around to look at him- and the utterly crestfallen look on Toji’s face makes you giggle. 

All of this might just be punishment for his forgetfulness, but you can’t deny that it sent a special zap of thrill down your spine to be the one making the Toji Fushiguro desperate like this.

Sauve. Cool. Collected.

Not even in the middle of his most impossible targets did he ever break a sweat- and yet, just your contemplative hum makes his breath hitch. Finger on your chin, wondering whether he deserved to have the sex ban taken off…or whether you wanted to make him grovel a little more.

His dark brows furrow, the tips of Toji’s ears burning. “The hell are ya laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing.” You’re humming, making your way over to the usual treadmills. “I’ll see you after the workout~”

“Huh? Wait-” He watches you leave. “What do you mean we’re working out separately now- wait—”

But alas, it was too late. 

And you’re left with a fuming Toji Fushiguro. The gym floor quakes a little as he immediately storms over to the weight-lifting section, bench pressing just about double his personal max in less than ten minutes.

And it was a challenge. Arms straining on the metal pole, veins popping out in his neck. They cascaded down the expanse of his chiselled chest, dipping even lower down where his tank top drenches in sweat, even lower…His sweat seeped through his skin-tight top- leaving a glistening sheen across those biceps. You swear they looked about the size of your head when pumped like this.

Toji’s expression was almost erotic - dark brows furrowed, skin slightly flushed. His features seemed locked between something of a scowl and a sweet pleasure.

Sweet, sweet pleasure.

You’re watching him through the mirrors covering the walls- and it seemed that you weren’t the only one. People couldn’t tear their eyes off of Toji.

Some of the older women. Some of the personal trainers.

Even a few couples- yes, both of them.

And it makes something in you…bubbles. Something at the pit of your stomach that you don’t quite know how to name- but sour, sour realization floods you just as soon as you’re taking in the gaggle of college students. They were ogling Toji - as most were - yet the only difference remained in the fact that they were pushing one of the girls towards him. Phone in hand.

No doubt to ask for his phone number.

And that’s when you’re stopping your machine.

Heading over to your boyfriend in an instant—you reach him just as soon as he’s setting his loaded barbell on the rack. Breath ragged. Chest heaving. Without thinking much of it, he’s tugging on the hemline of his tank top n’ wiping the sweat off of his face - revealing such defined abs that it makes your own mouth water.

He sure was a sight to see- but that didn’t mean that just anyone could gawk at him. 

And just because you imposed a sex ban, doesn’t mean that anyone could try and swoop in…

Toji’s green eyes flicker over to you instantly- “Eh? Come to tease me again-”

“I need to talk to you—” And without a second wasted, you’re holding onto one of Toji’s large wrists. Tugging him to his feet, you can’t help the pointed inflection in your voice as you continue- “-babe.”

The giggling group silences. 

In just a few minutes- you have your feet headed towards the empty locker rooms, your hands pushing Toji into the nearest stall you find. He’s letting such a sleazy smirk cover his face as he lets himself be fucking pushed inside—

Before the shower turns on and suddenly you’re being fucked against the blue-and-white tile. 

Your back against the wall. His roverin’ cockhead pounding into you at such a frenzied pace. Feverish. Furious.

Almost angry with your pussy for not lettin’ him feel you sooner.

He was just so biiiig and blushing that Toji manages to hit every spot- without even trying, he has you crying and mewling into his arms. Pushing in just long thrusts—“Fuck.” Toji whispers, hoarse tone barely audible over the rushing of the water. “Fuuuuuck, how I missed my pretty girl.”

You throw your arms around his shoulders. “M-missed you, too.” He was ruttin’ into you so hard that the heels of your feet were being cleanly lifted off of the tiled floors - and Toji himself was holding you up. With just a single hand on your waist.

One more between your legs n’ flicking your clit fervently—

Such a sinful grin spreads across Toji’s face. “Oh? Really?” Before the digits upon your clit start thumbing between your pussylips n’ spreading them all wiiiiiide open. Further and further open. He takes a gooood, long look at your drivelling hole—“Because I was talking about this pretty pussy right here.”

Your jaw drops.

“I-I—” Head dizzying with how fast he’s pinpointing every tiny spot with his tip. Hittin’ even the most hidden of crannies with his accurate, split-ended crown - over and over. Upturning those walls of yours and finding even more that you knew only he could reach—“I meant-” Fucking you from the flared tip of his shaft and down, down, dooooown to the girth of his base—decorated with so many curls of black that scraaatch at your core. “I mean…ngh, fuck.”

“My pussy-” He echoes out. “M-my pussy…” And Toji Fushiguro had the audacity to cock his head, his shaggy black bangs swaying. “What were you talking about, mama?”

Enough to leave you speechless- and to leave him grinning at his success. “That’s not the answer to that question, girl.”

“I know, but-”

“There are no buts.” Toji scoffs, rolling his verdant eyes. 

And before you know it, he’s scooping you up into his arms- feet off the floor, ankles knotting around his waist. Toji pulls away from the tile then - who the hell said he needed the support of some damn wall to hold his pretty girl up? He’s merely tuggin’ you to him like a koala, stuck against his chiselled front—pounding up even harder n’ haaaaarder. Dragging his thick, vein-covered cock even loooonger down your channel.

“Sh-shit—” Throwing your head back. Gravity is making you slip n’ slide down Toji’s incredible body, your front pressing up against his abs. All you can really do is hold onto dear life.

You claw your fingers down his buff shoulders - hard enough to draw blood - and Toji merely fucking chuckles. “Toji, it feels so good—”

“I know.” He answers cockily- before craning his head down and aiming a dollop of spittle between your legs. Strikin’ your pussy dead-on. Even though he didn’t really need it - the water n’ your slickness was enough to let Toji pummel in at such a raaaapid pace. He just liked to see how you’re squirming at the sensation, “And who wanted a fucking- sex ban, again?”

The water rushed down his hair and obscured his sight- and whatever you could see from between his long black bangs was just…fuck. The sheer feral need in his eyes made you shiver. “It was m-”

“Oh, wait.” Toji hums in wonderment. Eyes settling down on you, as if just seeing you for the first time. “Do you know who it was? It was you—wasn’t it, mama?”

“Y-yes-”

“Oh yeah? Thought you could go without my cock for that long, did ya?” Toji snickers, pinching your clit. It’s hard enough to make you bounce n’ buck your treacly cunt back down his shaft— “Heh—look at ya. Didn’t even last three weeks- hah, honestly. Have some more discipline, girl.”

“You’re telling me to have more discipline.” You gasp. “And who forgot Valentine’s Day-”

“Eeeeeasy there, mama.” He trundles out. Voice low. Almost dangerous. Another pinch on your clit- “Don’t make me put you under a sex ban.”

Your lips part, “You wouldn’t…”

“I would.”

His globular tip swipes down your cervix, leaving what feels to be a permanent mark. Slides of his gooey precum—“And now…” Toji leans in to whisper his next few words in your ear, scorching hot pants against the cool water. “-you’re gonna cum.”

Shivers run down your spine.

Toji continues in his guttural tone. “You’re gonna cum around my cock, and when you do you’re gonna scream so loud that it’ll alert the gym.” Already hearing the grin in his words- “And then m’gonna cum inside you. You won’t wash it out until we get home - you’re gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs.” Toji leaves a final piiiinch on your clit. “And after this, you’re never puttin’ me under one of those damn bans ever again. Understood?”

“U-understood.”

“Good girl.”

.

.

.

By the time he’s finished with you - way, waaaaay past your allotted time - you’re adjusting your uncomfortable leggings before going out. Feeling the sploshin’ of Toji’s gooey white cum inside of you, it’s a damn quest to try and walk properly.

And Toji doesn’t even try to leave the locker room at different times in order to avoid suspicion. He’s sauntering out proudly and throwing an arm over your shoulders, tugging you to his side.

Giving the most shit-eating grin at those other bastards that stare at him in envy.

You wonder out loud how you’re not banned from that gym yet.

Toji takes that as a challenge.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 18th FEB. at 7:46PM

“Papa, you forgot something!” Itadori Yuji squeaks out as he’s walking up the daycare steps. Spider-Man back-pack tightened with four different straps around his chubby body, his light-up shoes illuminating every step of the way.

Everyone knew when Yuji arrived at his classroom—the students because of his totally awesome shoes, the parents because of…his father.

Nanami Kento stood tall, stoic and composed as the sea of parents dropping off their kids parted for him. Blond hair slicked back immaculately. Glasses sharp and polished.

His silhouette drew eyes - whether one was conscious of it or not - though his own merely settled down upon his son. Crinkling slightly in concern, “Forget? Did you forget your lunchbox again, Yuji?”

The pink-haired boy shakes his head.

The older man hums, “Then did you forget your extra clothes?”

He shakes his head.

“Your football?”

He shakes his head.

“My goodbye hug?”

“No, papa—” And honestly, Nanami had no idea that a four-year-old could sound so exasperated with someone else. Yuji sighs and shakes his head in a way the man knew he picked up from him- “You forgot it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Oh.

Nanami’s lips part, and he sweeps a glance around the classroom corridors - looking as if love threw up inside it. Pink fairy lights and streamers. Heart-shaped designs. So there was a reason everything seemed a little…brighter than usual today, and- wait.

Wait, that explained the special heart-shaped pancakes you’d made for him. The twinkle in your eye. The rather lengthy pawing n’ kissing in the privacy of your bedroom.

Oh.

He intakes a sharp breath, “I didn’t wish my love—” Nanami looks at his pink-haired little traitor. “Why didn’t you tell me, sunshine? I should’ve wished your momma as soon as the sun rose- oh, and I need to buy roses. Then the gifts—wait, didn’t she say she wanted-”

“Papa…”

Nanami snaps out of it immediately- then straight into something new. “Did your momma seem mad, Yuji?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, “Momma told me not to tell you.”

Oh, you were definitely mad…

“She also said she was gonna teach you a lesson when you get home- it was funny.”

Oh.

The boy shuffles. “Papa, can I go now?”

.

.

.

Lo and behold, that was how Nanami Kento found himself suffering under…a sex ban. Ever since the 14th of February, you’d forbidden your handsome husband from touching you, fucking you, making you cum—even kisses were chaste.

And though you had to admit that your stoic husband kept it together quite well, you say the way his tie got just a little looser n’ looser every day. 

The way he’d linger his eyes on you too long. The way he’d take a longer time during showers.

No doubt fucking his fist to the thought of you.

And…you’re almost embarrassed to admit it, but it takes just four days for you to get impatient. 

Yes, you.

Ogling how his toned body would fill out those button-ups of his, how he only seemed to be getting more handsome by the day. 

Nanami had taken up a tradition of buying you a bouquet every single day to make up for Valentine’s Day - and it’s the night of the 18th when you finally just snap-

“F-fuck—ngh.” Just dragging him to your shared bedroom and sitting him down on the bed- you just barely tug off his tight work pants. Just enough to take his thick tip out. Bracing yourself before bouncin’ your hips down and taking his girthy tip in whole- 

Your back arches, toes curling.

The most lecherous whine leaves you—almost as lecherous as the sloppy sluuurp! of his honed cockhead pressing between your pussylips. Such an incredible carnal stretch that you’ve missed so much, “Fuck, it feels so good.” You gasp. “I’ve missed you s’much.”

“Shiiiit—” His bouquet drops from his hands. Red rose petals on the carpeted floor now- Nanami’s deep voice had taken on a breathy lilt, “Shit, momma-”

“I’m s-still mad at you.” You’re huffing down at him. “But my- ngh, pussy’s missed you soooo much—”

“I know, darling. I know.” His forehead lines with a trickle of sweat. Nanami’s eyes fall half-lidded as he feels himself get swallowed up deeper n’ deeeeper inside you. 

With the most damp sluuuuurping noises. Just so cute - it’s like you were gobbling him up.

Two of his hands clasp at your unsteady ankles, bending them to his will ‘round his toned waist. Before you can say anything in response, he uses the leverage to fuck a good strike at your core. All the way from tip to hilt. And as you’re shrilling out, he murmurs. “This fat fuckin’ cock missed your pussy, too.”

“R-really?” Though you don’t even need to ask - you could feel the way his bulbous tip throb-throb-throbbed all the way deeply inside you.

Nanami’s blond hair shuffles as he nods. “Missed you sooooo fucking much-” Almost too dirty to fall from the gentleman’s mouth. “Feel how much harder I am—?” Dragging his vein-decorated shaft aaaaaall down your sopping wet walls, pushing them apart. “Feel how much- fuck, bigger m’getting?” The way each pulsation only seemed to make him swell, his round flared tip growing even wider. It’s the perfect structure to scrape every sweet spot- and Nanami knew just where his wife’s favorite areas were. “Feel how hungry I am for you?”

You gape, “Hungry?”

And when he responds, there’s something utterly shattered in his tone. “Yes—” Breath gusting out in a scorching breeze- pants damp, canines pricking at your neck. Your husband sinks his teeth into that tender skin at your throat, “Fucking famished for this pussy.”

And he’s fucking you just like it, too.

Pourin’ out wads of pre into every nook n’ crevice. Twitching his bulbous cockhead against even the tiniest of nerves inside- he jerks his hips up a mile a minute. Utterly pounding into the back of your pussy— 

Until it was nothing but a gooey, battered mess. Slick with all the translucent sap he was emptying out- 

“Missed you so much.” He husks out against your clammy skin. Holding you tighter n’ tighter to his sculptured pecs, the more he’s honing out direct thwacks! inside you. Just four days without this perfect pussy and he’s a man gone. “Missed you- fuck, missed you so much—”

“B-but you always seemed unbothered.” Huffin’ down at him, your lips twist into a pretty pout- one that he’s reaching up and biting. “I thought it was just me that- ngh, missed you like this.”

“Oh, my love.” The sheer force of his thrusts was enough that you find yourself clawing onto his broad shoulders. To help you balance, Nanami loops his strong forearms around the small of your back- tugging you to him. “I thought about this pussy every single day that I didn’t have her.”

And that’s not all…as if to prove his point, the blond-haired man reaches down one hand and tugs on your perked clit—

It was just swollen and throbbing for attention- and he gives it all that you wanted. Rolling the calloused pad of his thumb right over it, up and down. Long swipes. Slight circles. Edging the tip of it between your wet crevice- in just a few seconds, you swear you’re starting to feel Nanami write out things on top of your overstimulated nub.

What you swear were swirls and loops.

And you recognized Nanami Kento’s handwriting- hell, you’d been married to the guy for years now! That neat, slanted script. So it doesn’t take you long - not until he punctuates a slight puuuuush that you assumed to be a dot - that it hits you like four semi-trucks at once.

Nanami was writing out ‘missed you’ on top of your cunt. 

Over and over again.

So many times that you’re starting to feel a bit raw with pleasure.

You cling onto him for dear life, “And what did you think about?"

“What?” He breathes, brain too muddled.

Your delayed response. “And what did you think about- ngh, Kento?”

Nanami throws his head back and lets out a faint, grumbling whimper as you’re clenching around him - just as gone as you. These few days had rendered him extra, eeextra sensitive to even the slightest twitches and sensations of your cunt. He whispers out an answer that you can’t hear.

“What was that, baby?” Fluttering your lashes at him, leaning in close. 

A slight channel of slick n’ precum escapes from your wettened hole- and makes his breath hitch. He repeats.

“What was—”

He repeats it.

And this time, he’s pummelin’ straight into the veeeeery bottom of your gummy pussy with it. Swiping out his spot there-

“I thought about getting you pregnant.”

And Nanami’s fucking you like he’d rather die than not have you all round n’ glowing - plump with his child - by next Valentine’s Day. If he could get you pregnant tonight itself and make you a family of four by then—then that’s even better.

A stripe of his gooey white cum- “Let me make up for these four days, my love?”

.

.

.

Next Valentine’s Day, it’s the three of you that are dropping off Yuji at school- you, your husband, and your baby. Just a few months old but already matching the energy of her older brother.

Yuji skips up to the steps - just a year more and he’ll be in first grade already. How time passes. 

He announces in that bright voice of his, “You didn’t forget Valentine’s Day this year, papa.”

Nanami slightly blushes at the attention of the other parents around you two - at him, at you, at Yuji’s voice, and at the presence of your cute lil’ daughter. They looked torn between coming up to congratulate the two of you, and keeping their distance from a baby so young—Nanami was known to be a private man, after all. If it hadn’t been for Yuji’s excited announcements, the daycare might not have ever known of the newest addition to your family. 

His hair. Your eyes.

“That’s right, sunshine.” Nanami pats Yuji’s head of pink hair, “I won’t be forgetting any time soon.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 3rd MARCH at 11:03PM

You weren’t going to last.

That’s right—you weren’t going to last.

That sex ban had been set on the 14th of February, once Geto Suguru - your ever-handsome leader of the Time Vessel Association - had deemed that his favorite little association member hadn’t…celebrated Valentine’s Day quite to his standards.

Though you had no idea what he was talking about- you’d planned everything out perfectly.

You’d spoiled him with a jasmine bouquet, he’d spoiled you with even more red roses.

You’d spoiled him with his favorite traditional Japanese breakfast, he’d spoiled you with your favorite (courtesy of the chefs in the Association, of course).

You’d wanted to ride him silly- he’d wanted to fuck you pregnant. See, that’s where the little miscommunication seemed to have happened - if you can even call it that. Because in the end you’d been pummeled with his thick, veiny cock—for but a total of two rounds before you’d exhausted yourself to sleep in his arms (it’d been a long day of planning, alright?)

But the thing is, Geto Suguru hadn’t wanted to go two rounds.

Geto Suguru had wanted to go…all night.

And you never fall asleep before the revered leader. Never. Was his cock really that boring to you? Did this even count as celebrating Valentine’s Day at all, then?

Geto Suguru was a ruthless ruler.

It was considered that you missed Valentine’s Day- yes, you missed it.

Thus, you were henceforth and until further notice- banned from having sex with the esteemed leader until you improved your stamina. Which was quite the unfair match-up - Geto had training in martial arts, in cursed energy, in reverse cursed energy. How were you supposed to compare?

He was fucking mean.

And to be quite honest, a part of you had the nagging feeling that Geto was simply riling you up for the fun of it…and you wouldn’t be surprised.

Which is why when you’d sucked up your pride n’ finally asked him to fuck you by March—he’d merely raised a dark brow. Sharp. Scouring. “And have you finally fixed that pitiful stamina of yours?” He’s spitting, “I do not wish to be insulted once more…”

“I h-have.” You’d claimed- alright so maybe you hadn’t worked on your stamina just like he’d said. But who was Geto Suguru to know?

His brow raises even higher.

He knew. He definitely, definitely knew. 

But to your utter surprise- Geto is tugging on the dark fabric of his robes. Beckoning you with a single look over to his futon, “Alright.” Clipped and chilling. “But I hope you know that I am not a merciful man, gorgeous.”

You’d never scrambled over to him faster.

Because when Geto Suguru fucked you- he fucked you.

Just like he hated you. In no time, he had your jittery legs on his shoulders n’ his rounded cockhead pushing between your pussylips. Just stretch-stretch-streeeetching out the first rim of your entrance before draggin’ away down that tight channel. 

The long-haired man tugs open all those cute lil’ crannies that you’ve missed being stimulated. Your back arching off of the ancient tatami as he folded you sooooo deep in half—ass cheeks barely touching the floor in this ruthless mating press he had you in.

Cock hitting the back of your pussy for hours. And hours.

And hours and hours.

“P-please—” You warble out in your shattered tone, head throwing backwards. It’s hitting the surface behind you with a dull thud- and Geto merely huffs out a chuckle.

He raises his left hand - and for a second, you think he might just use it to cushion the back of your head. But instead…Geto uses it to clasp onto your poor, perspired neck and shoves you deeper against the floor-

“Don’t make me put ya into a headlock before you hurt yourself.” He snickers out, something animalistically breathy in his tone. Those thick fingertips of his squeeze either side of your neck- swervin’ his luscious tip inside even faster. “Because just know—”

And the hairs on the back of your neck raise once Geto Suguru leans into whisper.

“-that when I say all night long…” And for the nth time tonight, his slick n’ mazing tip drives you straight into your high. “-I mean all night long.”

“A-all night…” Your mouth hopelessly babbles.

Spit drivels down either side of your mouth—and Geto wastes no time before leaning down and lickin’ them away. “Keep it clean, gorgeous.” He murmurs against your lips, “M’gonna make a mess of you- hah, anyway the next time I cum inside. Again.”

His sweetened sap was already sploshin’ away inside of you- and even the tiniest jolts of his tip made him stir you from the inside. You drag a hand down your bloated-feeling front and whine, “Again?”

“Yes?” Geto asks, “Something the…matter—?”

And whatever your answer had been, it’s getting fucked back down your throat with his bludgeoning cock. Frenzied. Fast. Ferocious in the way he was claiming every single inch of space inside you. Nothing but a pinkish blur between those poor legs of yours- and you might not realize it in this state, but Geto himself had missed you.

How he’d missed the feeling of this velvety pussy. The way you’d open up just for him n’ seemed to mold your channel to his girth- and he was rather girthy, if he did say so himself. The way you’d clench ‘round him at even the tiniest sparks of pleasure-

And right now it’s as if you were holding him hostage.

Making him rut his hips wetly into yours - slick n’ cum spraaaying out of your hole and creating a mess in-between - again and again and again—

He tightens his restraint on your neck until you’re seeing stars- veins popping out from his hand. “Something-” Each word was punctuated by the most thorough gash of his swollen shaft, thudding against your gooey cervix. “-the- matter- gorgeous?”

“N-nothing—!” You babble out. “Nothing at all-”

“Then why’s this pretty pussy trying to- mmm, run away from me, hm?” He’s humming. 

And you snap your head down- it’s just then that you’re registering the ministrations of your hips. The way you lurch back just a bit when he’s hitting a spot just right, feet planted flatly on the mattress.

You bounced and swerved - almost as if you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run away or fuck back down for more, more, more. For the feeling of his smooth slippery tip reaching into your deepest depths- fuck, you’d almost forgotten how much he stretched you out.

And Geto doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s running you straight into another orgasm. And another.

“What? Can’t handle it?” Fingernails digging into your soft skin by now. “Can’t handle it?” His balls were still big n’ heavy with so many wads of cum yearning to be inside you- “Can’t handle it? Can’t handle it—? Speak up.”

“I can.” Gasping out in your botched tone. “I can- I can—”

“Then what?”

“It’s just-”

“I knew it.”

But that was a test, you see.

He didn’t want to know the answer - for now. He just wanted to know if you could match all the claims you uttered- if you could take him all night long like he’d promised.

Dawn wasn’t even close to breaking.

Your drenched cunt quivers. His own cock dribblin’ out a clingy line of slick—“I already toooooold you.” He replaces the hand on your stomach with his own, right palm cascading down the front. Geto pushes down on that cute lil’ bump he was fucking into you, “First, you miss Valentine’s Day-”

“But I didn’t-”

“Then you lie to me about improving your stamina-”

“Well…”

“If you can’t handle it, then don’t fuck me—”

“B-but-”

Shutting you up with a looong swab right near your throat. “Because how else m’I going to get you pregnant, gorgeous?”

And as you’re struggling to get out a single coherent sentence, Geto sighs. Dramatic.

“And here I thought you’d finally match my freak-” Something he’d learned from an audio Larue had been listening to, something he found quite amusing himself. “Here I thought you’d match my stamina-” He was probin’ his long shaft into the door to your womb. “Here I thought we’d finally get you pregnant for next year—”

“Y-you still can-” You whisper.

He leans in. “What was that?”

“You still- hck! can.” Increasing the volume of your tone, and it makes Geto’s pretty amethyst eyes widen. “Promise you still can. It’s still March.”

Geto hums in interest, “And about that concern you had before then…?”

“I was just worried…” Splaying out your hand on top of his- on top of your stomach. Slightly bloated with the sheer amount of gooey, glittering was struck to your walls—the slightest push is enough to make you trickle out between your legs. “-that it might not fit, Suguru.”

And something in him seems to twitch.

His cock seems to jolt—

You’re being fucked even deeper into your mating press before you know it. With Geto’s roverin’ cockhead flooding your bruised, battered insides in his syrupy sap - it leaves a carnal part of you feeling so satisfied.

The way he rests his weight on your lower half to stop you from moving around too much. 

“Oh, gorgeous…” Breathless. “I’ll just make it fit.”

.

.

.

It’s the very next day - even without formal confirmation - that Geto Suguru announces to his association the imminent birth of his heir. 

You find that announcement to come true soon enough.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 14th FEB. at 9:12PM

To be quite honest, Choso Kamo didn’t know that there was a human…culture surrounding this date. He’d never heard of it before.

Imagine the half-curse’s surprise when he wakes up one day and the world seemed to be drenched in pink and red. Why were there hearts plastered upon every shop window he saw? Why did the population of couples somehow seem to double? Why did strangers insist upon trying to hand him chocolates as he walked down the street?

Wondering whether his last blood manipulation technique had left him feeling light-headed, Choso knew to seek the smartest person he knew for answers - you.

His beloved human girlfriend.

And when you’d given him a brief run-down of the semi-holiday—well, Choso Kamo was in tears. Why? Well, because no one told him that he’d just missed a perfectly fine opportunity to spoil you, of course!

All those candy shops he passed, all those plushie stores he ignored…

You’re telling him that he should’ve just dropped everything he was doing and bought out the whole store?! (No, you were not telling him that—but Choso was certainly thinking it). And he believed it, too. 

Which is why - as the self-dubbed Worst Boyfriend in The World - Choso demanded that you punish him with a sex ban. And when you’d refused, he’d punished himself with a sex ban.

“I-I don’t deserve it, baby.” He’d wrapped his arms around himself and turned away, as if the mere sight of you in your pajamas was enough to tempt him into breaking his ban. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror after not knowing such a thing-”

“Choso, baby.” You’d interrupted him. “Shut up.”

He’d grown hard in his pants at that.

The first hour, it had been…do-able. Choso was still alive, he felt like he was still alive.

And his cock had remained behaved in his pants.

Three hours in and he was…shattering slightly at the edges. He’d disappeared into your underwear drawer when you weren’t looking- stealing one of your prettiest scraps of lace and fucking his first raw using it.

That had bated him.

At least until the fifth hour, when you’d asked to cuddle in bed. 

And Choso felt his cock jolt just a little in his pants- eagerly agreeing. Tightening. Though you should’ve known that something was off when he’d asked to be the big spoon this time (Choso Kamo was never the big spoon), but you didn’t think much of it…

Then had come the seventh hour—two hours into cuddling you. Two hours into having his raging hard erection pressed up against your ass- and he thought he was going a little insane.

He needed to distract himself- he needed to think of something else.

Anything.

And it’s then that those unfortunate pretty eyes of his had fallen upon the small wrapper upon your bedside cabinet. The small slab of sweetness.

The small piece of chocolate.

Without thinking much of it, Choso had reached out and torn it open - fingers jittery to do something. He’s popping both halves into his mouth.

“Wait-” You’re catching his action—only too late. “Cho, baby, that’s-”

But it was too late. He’d started feeling hot all over. Feverish. “Baby—what is this-”

“Aphrodisiac chocolate.” Sighing. “I’d bought it for us today - yes, one half for each - but since you put on that sex ban…”

It’s all the explanation that he fucking needs before he’s tearin’ at your poor pajama shorts. Furious. Feral. Before he’s leaving them in shatters- and leaving you with your voice lost in your throat, Choso’s angry red tip swivelling inside.

Just so wet with pre and rock-hard.

His sex ban had lasted seven hours.

The ridge of his cockhead was flared so widely, scrapin’ against all those tender spots inside you. It’s a lecherous sensation - enough to make you clench, enough to make you hold Choso’s fat cock hostage. Drool wettens Choso’s lips as you clench—“S-sex ban?”

Did that sound like a question? 

Because your poor boyfriend’s tone was wavering almost comically upwards towards the end- ruined. He punctuates it not with a question mark, but with a solid sopping thrust inwards. Shovelling just a few more of his inches in-

“Yes?” You pant out. It already feels as though he was pumping against the corner of your lungs. “Baby, wasn’t that what you said- oh.”

Yet another smooooch of his lengthy cock- it drives inside and presses on a tender spot you particularly like. “Sex ban?” Choso repeats. There’s an almost urgent look in his eyes, glazed and glittering with dark need. “No—”

And then he’s shaking his head fervently- for a mere few seconds before he glues his split-ended tip to the roof of your cunt. Bottoming-out. 

He collapses his muscular body onto you and pants-

“No, no.” Hips stuttering, though that doesn’t stop him from drilling into you like a maddened man. Lecherous, long strikes of his cock. “No, that can’t be—I’d never ban myself from something as h-heavenly as this pussy…”

“But you-” You’re starting to refute him.

Only for Choso to pump out a few direct hits to your cervix—groaning. “Because l-look how pretty she is takin’ my big cock.” He whispers, marveling at the way you clung onto him. Your sopping wet walls were lacquered in a good gleam of his precum, so tight that he almost thinks he wouldn’t fit- but you always do manage to surprise him. “Look how goooood she feels wrapped ‘round me- my pretty pussy.”

And then he’s fucking and fucking into you-

At an irregular pace - sloppy and staccato. It’s almost as if he couldn’t control just when and how his hips were moving, merely chasing that carnal instinct within him. That little voice that told him to bruise his achin’ hot cockhead at the base of your cunt, and then push n’ push n’ puuuuush as deep as it could go.

If he wasn’t knockin’ at your womb, then each thrust wasn’t worth it.

“Look how—” Head dipping into the crook of your neck, those clammy brown strands of his hair stick to your skin. He was blushin’ and shaking all over- “Look how good she ngh- feels when she’s being fucked by me? She’s been waiting for my cock all this time, riiiight?”

You’re unable to answer, merely twitching as Choso runs a finger down your slit. Pressing perfectly on the button of your clit.

“Of course, she is. Look how wet she is f’me—h-how could I ever deny her?” Baritone taking a shaky degree, wetness pouring out of him in waves and splatters. “Look how much she wants to- ngh.” 

And it’s then that Choso’s ruddied tip twitches daaaangerously.

You knew that your beloved boyfriend was the sensitive type- but to this extent? It’s almost as if being away from your pussy (for a few hours, yes, but even that was torture for Choso Kamo) had rendered him more sensitive than ever.

More susceptible to getting pussydrunk.

More susceptible to getting addicted to the slippery clench of your cunt. Those pretty walls that opened up for him—straight down to your even prettier womb.

He rubs the sides of his shaft rawly against your walls and whimpers- “L-look how much she wants to be filled up with my cum.”

And it’s then and there that Choso is talking himself into an orgasm. The textured sensations of your cunt. The wetness of your constant sap. The way you were looking up at him with teary eyes- his sheer length almost too much for you to handle.

And this was too much for him to handle. 

Choso merely reels his hips back a bit- before pummeling deepest into your depths and pourin’ out his cum with such a squeeeelch! A lecherous sound. The sound of his dewy wads of seed emptying out at the bottom of your pussy, filling you up from the inside out-

He’s throwing his body forwards and crushing you to him. “Baby, m’never gonna think of a sex ban ever again—” Murmuring wetly into your skin. You swear he was almost in tears- “Never. M’sorry, but I just don’t think I can handle it.”

“You really didn’t have to, Cho—” You reassure him.

And at that, he slips out just a few more beads of ivory cum. “N-ngh, don’t say that unless you want me to cum again.”

“Maybe I do.” Cocking your head up at the pretty boy- “That aphrodisiac is said to last five hours, after all.”

He shivers.

You throw your arms around his sweaty neck and pull him closer. “And it is still Valentine’s Day. Why don’t you make it up to me like this, Cho?”

He does end up cumming again.

.

.

.

The next day, Choso Kamo ends up buying out all the nearest candy shops and plushie stores. Some of them being delivered later on in the day, some of them being carried in dozens upon dozens of bags upon his two hands - not that he minds. He’d carry anything for you. To you.

After all, it’s not like you’ll be walking for about the next week…

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 1st MARCH at 1:23PM

“Cheh—and it’s not like I’m upset about it, or anything!” The King’s fervent denials make the walls of the throne room trundle - almost as loud as Ryomen Sukuna’s voice, were his blatant lies. 

And yet, Uraume has long since learned to keep their mouth shut during times like this.

They sit poised before Sukuna, head bowed and expression of something contemplative. He might have four eyes, but he’ll never be able to tell how his right-hand follower was on the verge of laughter. Of tears from the sheer amount of laughter.

They might have to take a leave of absence after this.

And Sukuna - never the less oblivious - slams all four fists down on the armrest of his throne. Echoing in a hollow voice, “I just fail to understand why my…most tolerable human has refused to copulate with me these days. Although, even that should be understandable- if she wishes not to, then she wishes not to. I can understand that. But my question is why as of the 14th of the last moon cycle-” He sits upright in his seat, seething. “-she pretends that I do not even exist! Me—the King—!”

Uraume manages to disguise a laugh as a cough. “The 14th of the previous moon cycle, you say, Your Majesty?”

“Hm?” He grunts. “And what of it?”

“Well, then perhaps you should know that you missed a day that is quite important, Your Majesty.” They lightly sip their tea as the King’s interest piques- “In certain cultures, the 14th of the year’s second month is celebrated as the day of love. To express one’s affection for their lover, their family, and their friends.”

The King stays quiet. 

Uraume finishes their tea. “Tell me, Your Majesty—had you gifted your lover anything on the 14th?”

He sputters, “I-I—well, not quite but-”

“Did you wish prosperity upon her on the 14th?”

“No, but-”

“Did you act in a manner deemed nicer than your…usual demeanour?”

“No-”

“Nothing at all?”

“No.” Sukuna runs two hands down his rugged face, “Heavens…”

.

.

.

And it doesn’t take long for Ryomen Sukuna - over three weeks late - to finally shower you with gifts. Lavish, as a King should provide for his Queen.

In the most expensive silks in this land and the next few, too. In the most intricate little trinkets that he knew you’d love. In the most gorgeous jade twinkling in the moonlight. In the most sweet-smelling perfumes. The most sweet-tasting candies.

Everything and anything.

Though he personally believes that nothing could taste as sweet as you.

And he shall have a word or two later with you- something about telling him directly whenever you wanted something of him. But right now, he was faaar too busy sprawling you out flatly on your bed. Pressing two hands into the smooth mattress beside your head, as two of his swervin’ cockheads fucked you dizzy—

He was fucking that pout right off your lips.

“S’this pussy still furious?” Sukuna coos down mockingly at you- both sets of his lips twisting into the meanest grin. 

As you struggled to get out the words - past those thick, bludgeoning shafts - he merely leans down. Fluttering those pinkish lashes at you, Sukuna’s second mouth opens up wiiiiiiide—licking up the crevice of your pussy. “S’this pussy still angry at me for forgetting ah- Valentine’s Day? I don’t think sooo—”

And almost on cue, you’re sputterin’ out in a gooey mess of slick. It travels down your legs and gets lapped up by Sukuna’s monstrous tastebuds- “M-maybe I still am.”

He hums from the primal depths of his chest. “I know you are, woman.” Those crimson irises of his roll, a scoff scorching down your features. “But what about this pussy—”

You tighten your legs around his waist, “Sh-she is, too-”

“I beg to differ.” And just then, Sukuna spanks—! one hand down upon your throbbing clit. His other two hands clutch your ankles to throw you off balance- to stop you from bucking. His sleazy grin only seems to grow as he watches the thiiiiick sheen of slick at your inner thighs. “See? She loves me.”

“She’s mad at you-”

A hit at your gummy cervix—two. “She loves me-”

“She-”

And then snaking right down to your g-spot—you’re feeling both of his rugged, rounded tips massage your sweetest spot. He doesn’t even properly thrust for a few moments- the King ruts his hips back n’ forth. “See—?” Aiming to bruise his rock-hard lengths against the sides of your walls - your nerves - making you feel him from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. “She fuckin’ loves me~”

You don’t get to contradict what he’s saying.

You don’t even get to try- because at that very second, you’re throwing your head back and cumming. Unable to control the lightning bolts of white-hot pleasure that run down your spine—sensations of his rounded tips driving you wild.

Pummeling.

Shovelling in and out. In and out.

Probin’ against the areas you were most sensitive, emptying out wads of precum in sinful splats. “Th-that’s just not fair…” Voice hatching into the prettiest whines in your throat- it’s just what makes him arch his powerful hips and buck, buck, buck. 

More. More. More.

Sukuna rests two hands underneath your spine n’ aaaarches you even more for him. Like this, it’s easy enough to see where the rounded bumps of his monstrous cocks were hitting your cervix. Thud-thud-thud. “Fuh-fuuuuuck, Kuna.” And at the very same time, his lecherous tongue sticks out and drags up and down your dripping wet slit. “Not fair- really not fair-”

“Not fair that this pussy likes me more than you?” He titters, “Now, that’s not fair t’me—”

“Oh, you-”

“Poor, poor Ryomen Sukuna.” He pretends to weep, to shake his head. “With no clue as to why his favorite human is ignoring him.”

“Shit-” He pumps a direct hit to your womb. Twitching there in warning.

“If it was gifts you’d wanted, then I could buy you this whole damn world-”

Your eyes widen, “The world?”

“Yes, the world.” Sukuna sounded dead serious. “Don’t be frugal, woman.” And you didn’t doubt that he didn’t have enough gold to do so- or at least give a damn valiant try. Sukuna digs his honed, blackened fingernails upon either side of your hips—cocks fucking you through your first high and straight into another. Another. Another. “Do you know how many nights we’ve lost together?”

It just feels so fucking gooood to have his furious, feverish tips pressing into every spot. You can only whine—

“Do you know how many times I could’ve cum inside this pussy until then?” Almost reminiscing as he fucks you, all those times he’s done so before. Will do so again. “Do you know how many times I’ve lost having that pretty pussy squeeze ‘round me when she cums- yes, you do that.”

Your breath hitches, “S-squeeze…?”

“Mhmm—” Ravenous red eyes narrowing down at you. There’s an almost feral grin upon his face- “Didn’t you know that? She squeezes around both cocks- like she wants to hold me back whilst she cums. Like she can’t- fuck, bear to leave.”

“Oh my god-” You gasp. Arching into his plush pecs.

And Sukuna is more than happy to let you do so - in fact, one of his hands lifts off of the bed to crush your face into his chest. Your mouth slobberin’ stupidly all over his pinkish nipples—his second mouth swabbin’ his tongue between your pussylips n’ fucking straight into your hole.

While he fucks you with two cocks. The stretch was just incredible. 

The next time you reach your highs, you’re squirting.

“And you say this pussy doesn’t love me…”

.

.

.

The next morning, Uraume wakes up at the crack of dawn- as per their duties.

And they have to admit that last night…they didn’t obtain a satisfying rest. Forget eight hours of sleep, they’d have been lucky to get eight winks—no thanks to their King of Curses, of course. The constant pounding and rattling and rutting had echoed all throughout this wing of the Royal Estate. 

And whenever Uraume had thought it had finally paused and perhaps their King had retired for the night- it would start right up again.

It must’ve been right before daybreak that they finally heard the last creeeeeak–! and groan of those ancient bedsprings. 

And just like that…peace.

They’d closed their eyes for all but 1 minute and 34 seconds, of course. Uraume would know, they counted.

And they’re stomping right out of bed- genuinely reconsidering that leave of absence when—

A knock at their door.

Possibly one of the other attendants. Possibly some problem or the other that they had to address right away- honestly, give a person time to brush their teeth first!

But, no.

Not at all.

Instead, Uraume is met with no one at the door.

No person.

Nothing but a large wrapped-up gift box, the type that one can tell is expensive at first glance. Looking around the corridor provides no other person there with them - and they’re dropping down to their knees in an instant. Opening up the large lid-

Inside, are the most beautiful crisp white kimonos. And a note attached—

‘Thank you. - R.’

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

They still don’t get paid, though.

♡ INO TAKUMA - 15th FEB. at 2:48AM

Ino Takuma has fucked up.

Majorly.

First, he ended up spending waaaay longer than he should’ve on his latest mission report—who even needs to impress the higher-ups, anyway? Ino has this ongoing theory that they don’t even read those damn things…And yet again, that didn’t stop him from scrutinizing each and every word that slid across the page like slugs on salt.

And by the time he’d finally dotted his last full stop (a momentous occasion) and looked outside- tell him why the world looked dark?

The black-out curtain of night. He’d gasped then—

Brown eyes flickering immediately to the clock on the wall, one that had been tutting at him for the past few hours. Watching. Waiting. 

It shifted its sharp, spindly hand to the next hour that struck.

12:00AM

Midnight.

Exactly four hours past when he was supposed to meet you for your Valentine’s date.

Shit.

Shit. 

Ino checked his phone, and had never run faster in his entire life. Not even when he was being chased by a Special Grade curse.

And that wasn’t all- of course, that wasn’t all. 

To make matters worse, he’d wanted you to have the most beautiful bouquet possible today - the brightest, the reddest, the freshest. And fearing that the air conditioning in Jujutsu High’s offices might make the flowers wilt, Ino had put off the gift for after he’d finished up his work. Who’d have thought that one might just prefer slightly-wilted flowers to banging on the door of a florist’s shop at 12AM? No chance.

Shiiiiiit. 

From then on had been a sequence of banging on store doors to no avail, or scanning the emptied aisles of any Valentine-themed shop he set his eyes on.

His plundering and pillaging wasn’t fruitful - and it was 2:33AM by the time that Ino slipped quietly into your shared apartment. With the wholly bountiful loot of: a box of orange candy, a card, a set of matching journals, a turtle plushie that sang ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber, and a pathetic plastic rose he managed to fight some old lady over.

To be quite honest, he would have broken up with himself.

But alas—that is not quite yet possible. You’d been awake and understanding, however, worried that he’d been working himself to the bone over that new report.

You’d been so sweet - ushering him to get ready for bed, and telling him that it was just some commercial holiday. He knows that, but still…

Ino thinks he could cry a little (he does).

And as he gets into bed beside you, he’s promising himself that he won’t fuck you stupid like he’d wanted to on Valentine’s Day. “Ban me from your pussy.” Ino whispers.

You turn to him in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“Ban me from your pussy- I’m so serious.” He’s promising himself that he’s going to make it up to you first before even having such thoughts. “I can’t believe I missed fucking Valentine’s Day- ban me from your pussy. I don’t deserve her.” He’s promising himself that—that—

You hum, “Hmmm, you sure about that?”

And whatever promises he’s trying to fool himself into—they’re flying out the window as soon as you’re pressin’ your behind to his front. Your pretty ass against his cock. Teasing. 

In what should be an innocent spooning position…but Ino traces a few fingers down your inner thighs. That’s when his brain short-circuits- as he registers that you were wearing his favorite pair of silky panties. Strappy. Crotchless. 

You’re fucking evil.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even need to spread them aside- merely setting a hand underneath your right leg and perking it up. Just the barest few inches he needs to tug down his sweatpants n’ glue his ruddied tip to your core. 

He’s hitting your pussy with a wet thwack! Meeting your pussylips in the sweetest kiss. Letting his slick precum slide-slide-sliiiiide vertical lines down your crevice. It dribbles down to your thighs, all wet and gooey. 

And Ino isn’t lasting too long before he throws his head back and ruts—harsh and animalistic. The raw sensation of your hole was almost too much. He doesn’t even know where his lengthy shaft is going, honed cockhead probin’ between your pussylips and getting sandwiched by them. The cutest hot embrace that he’s held hostage by- he humps his way between your legs like a damn beast. Again. And again.

“Please-” He echoes a guttural whisper into your neck. Scorching hot breath wafting all over your features, crushing your limbs so tightly to him that it almost hurts. “Please, please, please—”

You’re amused at the slight crack in his tone. “Please what, baby?”

“Please…” Ino’s large chocolate eyes peer down at you. He’s craning his neck down and gnawing on your pretty lips. “Please, ma’am?”

“Not that, baby.” You hum. Pushing your hips further back into his- in no time, he was fucking you with the swollen reddened tip of his cock. He was thiiiick and honed at the very top, slipping inside easily and swabbin’ into the tiny geysering orifices of your cunt. “I j-just meant that you didn’t have to-”

“But I do have to beg.” Ino insists, lips wobbling as though he was on the verge of tears. “Ban me from your pussy. I didn’t manage to make it before Valentine’s Day and spoil you- oh.”

Just then, your velvety walls were clenchin’ around him. And it’s enough to make Ino’s hips stutter sideways, hitting the globes of your ass cheeks with a sudden spank. “Shit…” You swear at the stinging contact. Ino was now gripping either side of your hips n’ digging his rovering cockhead between your pussylips - in rapid, ruinous half-thrusts just to ease inside. “B-but it just—ngh, couldn’t be helped. Don’t beat yourself up, baby-”

“But you should beat me up.”

Lifting your head off the pillow and looking over your shoulder. In slight worry- “Taku—”

“Wait, sweetness-”

“Taku, do you want me to be mean to you?” And when he isn’t answering immediately, you rut up your hips into his prominent v-line. Just so toned, massaging your back- it marks whichever direction his globular cockhead was heading. Leeeeft and right. Baaaack and forth.

Shoving even deeper into your tight channel. And you can feel his blushing face pushing into your neck, fever-hot. “You’re such a naughty boy, aren’t you?”

He groans—loooong and drawn-out. “Sh-shush, pretty. I didn’t mean it like…” But his train of thought trails off - just as much as yours does - because Ino’s rotund tip only seems to swell even bigger. The flares ridge of it scrapin’ ever tender spot inside you, bucking back and forth.

Your glistening hole to the back of your cervix. Deeper and deeper.

You gasp, “So you did like me calling you that.” Spit-slick lips of his parting as you arch your spine even further. “Such a naughty boy- fuck, you don’t even deserve to be fucked like this- y’know?”

And to your surprise, he’s fervently nodding. Rutting. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Least of all, you don’t deserve this pussy-”

“I don’t deserve it—” Uttering in such a whiny tone. Biting back his gasps. 

“Maybe I really should ban you.”

“Please.” Trembling digits clasp onto either side of your hips, digging his rounded fingertips into the flesh there. He’s leaving marks there, he’s tightening his hold- as if afraid you’d actually run away and he’s have to chase after your pretty cunt—“T-tell me more, pretty. Make me feel sorry…”

Ino’s hot breath makes shivers run down your spine. “Y-you probably thought about fucking me all day, huh?”

He hisses as if caught, “Fisted my cock about- mmm, five times in the office bathroom thinking of you, sweetness.” Hands gliding all over your body - n’ down your front where he presses on your stomach. That faint cylindrical bulge he was fucking into you, “With this very hand, pretty- fuck, I imagined this so many times.”

“Filthy.” You tut. “And yet, you still missed Valentine’s?”

“I thought about coming home early s-sooooo many times.” Ino whines against your ear. Just the notion of you insulting him is enough to tighten his heavy balls, slappin’ away between your legs with fervour. “So many times- fuck the report, fuck those elders.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” A few lines of perspiration glide from his chestnut hair. And his tone is all clogged up with lecherous husks, “B-but I’d rather have been fucking you—”

“Oh.” Because then he’s slamming into your g-spot that you see stars.

The split-ended shape of his cockhead, pushing straight into where you were softest. It’s almost as if Ino was fucking his very shape into your cunt, molding your pretty walls to him- not that he deserved that, either. 

But the fact that he didn’t deserve your treacly wet pussy and was still managing to fuck into you like a madman…oh, that was nearly enough to make him cum.

“Would’ve fucked you right on that table.” Ino rasps out, panting. Breathy. “Would’ve fuh-fucked you all day long- would’ve fucked you even if someone heard. If someone came in.”

Your eyes grow wide, “Would you have?”

He nods. Dead serious. “I would’ve fucked you right in front of them.” So much of a carnal sensation that he almost couldn’t handle it - he gnaws the pointed tips of his canines against the shell of your ear. “Showed them how niiiicely I fuck this pretty pussy—showed them…ngh, just how greedy she is to swallow me.”

“Pervert—” You whine.

And he grows even bigger inside you. “That, I am.” Before a sudden look of sheepishness crosses his face once more, “And th-this pervert is sorry that I couldn’t make it-”

“But at least you did now.” You answer. “And as a little reward for my- oh, naughty boy…”

Edging in closer, “Yes?”

You’re smiling that very smile that ruins him—“How about for Valentine’s Day you cum inside, Taku?”

And that’s all it takes for him to cum inside.

Thick. Hot ropes. 

Flooding your insides with all his ribbons of sap, they’re reaching every deep spot inside you n’ leaving your walls scalding hot. As if he was trying to leave you feeling him in there for daaaaays on end - just sizzling inside and splashin’ with his seed. So much.

The volume was so much that it leaves you leaking out between your legs, gluing your thighs together in all his slick white sheen. And very drag of his long cock leaves your poor innards practically drowning—

“Can I make it up to you again, pretty?”

“You lecher.”

He almost cums again right then n’ there.

.

.

.

The next day, Professor Yaga is receiving a report straight to his desk. Thick. Taking up presence on top of the ancient wooden furniture.

It was covered in a manila folder way, which was unusual for a report - if you followed the protocol of most sorcerers, one was lucky if they slap-dashed a mere page and called it a day. Thrown right over the desk a week after the deadline. And by the size and heft of this thing, it was at least fifty full pages.

As Yaga gets closer, he’s reading the stamp on the envelope—Ino Takuma. One of the best Grade 2 sorcerers that jujutsu society possessed.

It was no surprise that he was the one who put together such a detailed report. Yaga had been told by Panda that he’d worked right through Valentine’s on this thing, leaving around midnight. Which was…quite a lot of effort for a report. Yaga wasn’t sure if he himself would’ve put in this much work, but he also knew that Ino had been aiming for that Grade 1 rank.

He also knew that the boy had a girlfriend - you - and wondered just how you let him get away with such a thing. But then again, maybe that wasn’t his business…

Yaga sits down and opens up the folder, finding the first page to be—nothing to do with the report at all. Instead, it was a notice of taking leave - for a week citing ‘personal situations’.

Next was a receipt for a bouquet of 143 red, red roses. Seemingly filed in here by accident.

Well, Yaga holds back a smile, he guesses he could permit it this time…

♡ GOJO SATORU - You think he lasts?

You: Toru, where the hell are you??

You: We’re late for our reservation!!

You: Pick up your phone.

You: TOOOOOOOOOORU.

You: TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORU

You: Ugh, you’re probably on some mission or something </33 

You: But on Valentine’s Day of all days?? C’moooooooooon.

You: At least pick up your phone, Toru.

You: Gojo Satoru, you are hereby and forevermore under a sex ban. 

Just a few minutes after sending that last text, you hear a sudden crash outside your penthouse apartment—loud and reverberating. It had the sort of electric charge that made the hair on your body stand on end.

Like thunder.

It leaves you wondering whether a storm could be nearby- there weren’t many neighborhood noises that carried up to your floor. Gojo had picked this place specifically because of that. So perhaps an oncoming thunderstorm? Perhaps some sort of electrical shortage?

Your bedroom light was certainly flickering- and you almost considered turning it off altogether. 

What a day. First you get all dolled up for your boyfriend to not arrive at your shared home on time, then he doesn’t answer your texts, then this…whatever this is.

But you can placate yourself by thinking that you won’t get caught in the impending storm, then. No romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day anyways. On the bright side, your make-up shall remain flawless!

At least, that’s what you think.

Because then that crash emanates through the apartment once more—though, this time, it sounds far too close to be a distant storm. Far too…inside the apartment?

You’re just able to sit up on your king-sized bed. Before there’s yet another crash, and soon enough your damn bedroom door is being ripped off its hinges. Absolutely obliterated. Absolutely shattering into a zillion pieces of the most expensive mahogany that Japan can offer. 

And you almost don’t have to look up to know that none other than your boyfriend can do such a thing.

Sure enough, once you’re blinking your eyes back open - and the haze of wooden dust dissipates - you see Gojo Satoru standing there. Ivory head bowed. Feet apart. Chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon—or worse yet, teleported one.

He must have teleported one.

Times like this, you’re really registering just how tall Gojo is. He covers most of the cut-out frame of the bedroom door, blocking any light. And also blocking his expression…

You’re calling out to him cautiously, “Satoru?”

To which he snaps his head up at you and blanches—“Were you serious about the sex ban?” Face slack. Voice high. 

Now you’re just taken aback. “The one I set like two minutes ago? I-I don’t know, Toru, I just wanted you to get home-” 

“But I am home.” He responds. And as he takes a single step closer, a wave of charged atoms hit you like a faint forcefield - right now, you’re not even sure if Gojo knows his powers are leaking out like this. “But, I am—I am.” Your boyfriend insists, and there was a wide desperation in his blue eyes as though you wouldn’t believe him. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”

“Toru-”

“Were you serious about the sex ban?”

Like a mantra. 

He takes another step closer, and the pressure of his cursed energy was almost unbearable. “Were you serious about the sex ban?”

“Toru, no—it was just- oh.”

And you don’t know how it happens - one minute you’re attempting to placate your slightly-frenzied boyfriend about the joke you’d made minutes earlier. And the next, you’re being laid flat against the mattress—Gojo’s hands pushing down on your hips, his right knee pressing between your legs.

Feeling just how soaked you were through those sodden panties of yours- you had no idea how he even had the faintest inkling that seeing him so ruined made…something in you stir. Almost as if he had a sixth sense.

And his hypersensitive ears pick up the lecherous squeeeelch! that you’re letting off once he presses his knee down. 

“Fuck, you’re so…” Gojo’s coral pink lips part, glossed over with a sheen of slick that made it seem as though his mouth had been watering the entire way here. His head droops forward. His other hand starts to crackle with cursed energy—“Fuck, you’re so ready f’me.”

“Sa—toru…” You’re letting your heart race. You need him. And that’s all it takes for him to flinch- as though your mere tone saying his name awoke something in him. And the man is dragging his free left hand down your front - in a split-second, your clothes vaporize into thin air.

The dress you’d picked out especially for tonight. Your bra. Your garter.

All but your sodden panties.

He’s keeping that on. 

Reaching out one buzzing index, he juuuuuust pulls it to the side. Gojo doesn’t waste a single second before tugging his damn designer pants down and freeing himself. 

Showing you just the briefest flash of his rudded, ravaging hot tip—before you’re feeling it stuffin’ between your unsteady legs. Right between without waiting for you to get ready. Right between without waiting for you to accommodate him.

It’s so tight that he hisses.

And it seems that Gojo Satoru has just enough sense to wait until you’re catching your breath- before he reels his hips back and bucks. And bucks. And buuuuucks—teasing your entrance with the sheer stretch. Pummeling himself past that first clench of resistance to try n’ fit inside. He arches his spine to angle his cockhead against the roof of your pussy, “S-see?”

There’s a crack on the tail end of Gojo’s sentence. And you’re looking up at him in slight concern, “Yes?”

But he doesn’t even seem to hear - merely pulling his thickened erection back and stuttering out yet another strike. Sloppy. Into the deepest depths that he could reach at the moment, “See that?” And then back out- and then back in. The sequence continues. “See—”

And you’re not quite sure what you’re supposed to see- “What do you-”

“M’fucking you.” Cold chills sprint down your spine at the realization that this was that the ever-intelligent Gojo Satoru wanted to tell you. Was he really that gone on your pussy already? “And i-if I’m fucking you…I’m having sex with you.”

Your mind’s getting all muddled- whatever response you had locked-away in your throat getting mixed up with Gojo’s own groan. “Can’t have a sex ban if m’having s-sex with you.” He’s echoing out such a harrowed noise at the feeling of himself sliding even deeper.

Getting cushioned by your velvety walls.

Getting suctioned across every ridge n’ vein upon him.

All ten or so inches - yes, The Strongest also seemed to be the The Biggest - squeezing in through the tight channel. You were being thoroughly stretched-out, with his hand pinning one side of your hips so that you don’t squirm. And perhaps subconsciously breezing out the warm air of reversed cursed energy—all so that he doesn’t hurt you once he’s emptying out his solid shaft towards the bottom of your spongy cervix. 

Ending out with a reverberating thwack! right on your womb.

Bottomed-out.

Something you never thought possible so soon- with Gojo’s size.

And the man himself twitches just a bit as he takes in the vision between your swollen pussylips. Your folds spread wide open n’ your entrance attempting to clench around his swollen length- “See?” Gojo whispers out once more. “S-see—now m’never gonna leave from…”

“From?” But your question gets answered soon enough. Because your boyfriend runs a finger down your core, ending up at your mid-section- the circle of bright blue around his pupils starts to glow. 

And with Gojo’s Six Eyes, he can see exactly where his throbbing tip ended inside you. Smushed against your cervix in the most loving kiss - he presses down on that exact spot with a single finger. “-from here.” So muddled in the mind with his cock- you’ve almost forgotten what he was talking about. “I’m n-never gonna leave from here now, sweetheart.”

“Is that—oh, ngh.” His globular cockhead presses against the softened end of your pussy- but really it feels like he’s fucking right up to your very throat. Again and again. Thrust after thrust.

“It’s true.” And you genuinely wonder whether he can read your mind at this very moment. Because right now, Gojo had one hand latched onto your body n’ never letting go - all so that he can seep out reverse cursed energy into you.

So that he can drill into you like a damn animal—fucking his swollen, red cock in and out. In and out. In and out. Without fearing breaking a bone or two or you- “I swear.” Gojo lovingly nuzzles your throat, the complete opposite of how filthily he was fucking you. “I swear to not pull out-”

Your eyes widen, “You’re gonna c-cum inside, Toru?” And you can’t deny that you’re growing wetter at the fact…

“I swear to always kiss your cervix- ngh, that pretty womb every single time.” His mouth parts with a few dribbles of saliva. He was gone. “I swear to always fill you up over n’ over n’ over—until you overspill.”

And you couldn’t help but feel that these sounded oddly like wedding vows. “And- and—?”

“I swear to give you the best orgasms of your entire—” 

See, Gojo Satoru never had to try quite as much to get you to cum - he just knew your body that well. He was acquainted well enough with the cute sweet spots inside of you, he was well-versed in just how to make your pits of pleasure tick. He knew from experience where to hit your g-spot just right and in the same thrust bang against that one spot on your womb.

But now…now he isn’t using anything he knew. He wasn’t using anything he could think up.

Gojo was fucking you on pure, carnal instinct.

And it’s with such ferality that he angles his hips juuuust to the side- bludgeoning cockhead reaching the target of your bundle of nerves. You’re seeing white in an instant.

And as though that hadn’t been enough, Gojo reaches his hand down and spanks! his energy-covered fingertips down on your clit. The little sparks of jujutsu coursing through your veins and mingling with the constant thrashes he was pounding out at your g-spot. It’s with one-two-three more hits on top of your ravaged clit that you’re toppling over the edge of your high-

The vision of you cumming on his cock so, soooo fucking pretty…

“F-fuuuuck—” You’re hearing Gojo echo out in what seems like a distance. It was too hard to register with the dizzying sensations in your mind- his tip probin’ inside your cunt again and again and again.

Fucking you through each blissful bout of your high. He lets his lashes flutter just a bit—“S-squeezing me so tight.” Gojo’s voice cracks once he’s letting it out, visceral shivers wracking through his body. “So tight like you don’t wanna- ngh, let go.” His scalding lips fall on top of yours. “But you don’t have to…”

And then he’s veering into his own euphoria.

Pretty pinkish balls emptying out in looooong waves of dribblin’ slick- gooey and hot. Sticking to your walls like a layer of glaze, it gets sploshed about every time Gojo’s pinpointing your insides with his split-ended tip. The circular divot at the very end swervin’ about his white cum—filling you up.

You feel filled to the brim even before he’s done- and Gojo hums at the mess he’s made.

Still cumming. Still so much volume that it leaks out of you anyway - with more n’ more glittery wads of cum being added onto the pile, you couldn’t imagine just how much was going to end up inside you in the end.

How much of it was going to reach your very womb—

“I t-told you.” Gojo breathes out, deep blue eyes staring into yours. It’s just so mesmerizing to stare up into his enchanted look - so much so that you nearly don’t notice once he picks up your left hand. Placing a peck upon its back, “I kept all my oaths, didn’t I? I came home in time for Valentine’s- all your gifts are outside, by the way, my girl.”

You’re nodding dazedly. “You kept your promises, Toru.”

“My oaths.” He corrects - there was a difference, see? But before you can compute that difference, Gojo reaches a hand out towards the destroyed bedroom door- “And there’s another oath I want to make.”

And then it flies into his hand.

You think it might be a tight bundle of his blindfolds, at first. But it ends up being something more solid, something more cubic—something like…a ring box.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my wife.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 27th FEB. at 2:37PM

Overtime.

Throughout the course of your relationship until now, that dreaded ‘o’ word had remained your husband’s metaphorical mistress—and your worst enemy. Of course, Higuruma absolutely hated whenever you mentioned this - first of all, because he’d never, ever take a mistress.

Why would he, when he had you? His beautiful wife.

May lightning strike him down otherwise.

And secondly, because…well alright. Higuruma has to admit that that was the only qualm he had with your little comparison- because he was a self-admitted workaholic.

Whenever divorce season (you always thought this expression to be somewhat morbid, and he just claimed it was fact), or suing season, or some other multi-billion yen case came along—Higuruma and his firm would be thrown into a frenzy. Working long, sleepless nights.

Your husband slept more at his desk than in bed, those days.

Although it has calmed down somewhat since you two had moved in. Since you two had gotten married. 

The law firm had grown - and with it - the number of capable lawyers who could take on a share of cases. Higuruma didn’t have to do anything quite by himself anymore.

Higuruma was more in-check, remember?

Also, the fact that you were around him more—urging him to take care of himself more - likely helped. If he didn’t have you knocking at his home-office door and telling him that you were going to sleep now, then honestly he might just never sleep again. During those seasons, at least.

Except…well, except for this February.

February 14th.

Holed up in his office- he’d been half-way through the nth meeting that day. 

Some massive fraud case that they had in the bag - but the other team wasn’t too bad themselves. One could never be too confident in court. And so here they were, poring through the documents well into the evening when—Higuruma had glanced at his phone for a text from you. By chance.

And it was only then that he’d realized he’d missed Valentine’s Day.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He’d handed that meeting over to a junior and ran out immediately.

Nonetheless, Higuruma has missed his chance- no matter how many bouquets or chocolates he bought you. And so here he was, suffering from a sex ban.

Tortured by it.

Because of his own fault, most certainly. But that didn’t make his poor, neglected cock throb any less.

Still showing up to work with impeccable attendance (even earlier, actually) because the longer he stayed in your proximity, the more desperately he wanted to stuff your hole full. The more he’d think about it at work. The more he’d fantasize about just how wet you’d be when you finally lift this ban. The more he’d run to the bathroom whenever you called—fisting his cock furiously in there to the sound of your voice.

The more those around him grew slightly…concerned.

“S-sir?” His most-trusted junior was bounding up to him after nearly two weeks of this.

As Higuruma lifts his head up, he’s realizing that she’s followed by a froth of other juniors and staff. All seemingly coming to speak with him? Something must be amiss…“How may I help you?”

“Sir, actually—” She looks behind her and nods at the other attorneys. “Sir, we would like to tell you that you’ve been working so hard lately-”

“Well, yes-”

“And the case is so near to a close-”

“Certainly-”

“And we can handle it from here.”

“Oh.”

Kicked out of his own office (not quite, but close enough…). Higuruma Hiromi had been dismissed at the plea of his juniors, who’d clearly thought he’d been working himself to the bone—he’d gone home early for the first time in…his entire life.

And once he got home, Higuruma knew what he needed to do first.

First, he’d go up to you - his beautiful wife - and go a bit of grovelling. As all husbands should. Then he’d get on his knees, eat your pretty pussy—and then…

“P-please—” You’re throwing your head back. Cumming for about the third time in the past hour- Higuruma always had such an effort on you.

No matter how many years you two were together- that first taste of your pussy was always like heaven for him. He could see the pearly gates themselves openin’ up—and to him, it looked quite a lot like those swollen pussylips of yours.

Sensitive n’ splattered in a sheen of slick.

He rubs his thumb between your crevice and licks off those honeyed juices - greedy. Just before he’s swirlin’ his thickened tip around your gummy entrance and shoving inside—the first thrust.

All the way from his fat, mushroomy tip- to the tufts of curly brown at his base. 

Higuruma doesn’t even wait for you to accommodate his size. He doesn’t care if you’re struggling, he doesn’t care if your cunt quivers like you can’t take it all- because a single slide-slide-sliiiIiide down the channel of your pussy and he’s done for.

After not feeling you for soooo fucking long - and he’s immediately pussydrunk.

That stoic, stern attorney is pussydrunk.

“My- my angel—” An immediate scorching pant escapes him. It gusts against your face and leaves your heart racing- everything about Higuruma now just seemed feverish. 

Without a second sentence, he’s reeling his hips back. All the way from base to tip- one of his hands pins down against the side of your hips, the other guides his cock. 

Using it as leverage to lavish your insides with his drivelling pre. Honed, burrowing tip. And the rest of him was just so thiiiiick and covered in angry veins, harder than you ever think he’s been. He massages your cunt even with the tiniest of sultry movements, fucking you in tiny, rapid thrusts. Thrust after thrust.

Every inch of him stretchin’ out your walls just felt incredible-

“Shit—” You keen, arching your spine up into his. Higuruma still had his shirt only partly unbuttoned, and that formal tie of his still dangling from his neck. 

And he doesn’t say a thing.

Too focused on your cunt.

Too focused on perking his hips up just a bit- his ruddied tip swipes the roof of your cunt. Leaving you shocked at the pressure of him inside you, right before he’s funneling you with eeeeven more inches—fighting against the slight resistance at your first ring of muscle to fuck himself even deeper. Deeper. 

And he still doesn’t make a sound. 

He seems to be reaching for your very throat, and you whine. “Sh-shit, Hiromi.” As your legs start to ache n’ strain around his slender waist, your husband dips a hand down between your legs. Making you gasp as his expert fingers start toyin’ with your pretty clit - teasing and draaaagging that sensitive nub out till you start to sob. “Shit—fuck, Hiromi. Hold on-”

“Hold on?”

A chill runs down your spine.

Immediately, you’re snapping your head up to meet Higuruma’s dark, dilated eyes. His expression that seemed something feral—he’s rutting his hips once more. 

This time…this time, you’re realizing that he’d actually been holding back with his strikes earlier. Now, he was plummeting all those nine inches from tip to hilt without stopping. Without slowing down. Without sensually hittin’ at your sweet spots to help you take him better- he was drilling into you like he was crazed. “Hold on?”

Higuruma repeats.

And you can only peer up at him- “Y-yes?” Sobs and saliva clogging up your throat - you sounded pathetic to your own ears. “It was just a saying, Hiromi, I-”

“You want me to…fucking hold on?” Voice slightly breathy. Slightly gone. “I’ve waited-” And between those vicious thrusts that he was pounding upon your pussy, Higuruma spits out lewd whispers. “-waited for too fucking long to have her- and you want me to- fucking—hold—on—”

Three exact slams upon your spongy cervix, it makes you thoroughly squeal. “I-I was just saying-”

“I thought about this pussy every goddamn day and night and-” He was on a roll now. As if the more he rutted himself inside, the less he could control what he said—“-and during every fucking meeting—”

Serious black eyes staring down at you. You could see your own gaping expression reflected in them.

“I ran to the bathroom every morning when you’d call me-” He utters. Admits. “-just to fuck my hand to the sound of your voice—” And you don’t know what’s making your stomach churn more - the registering of his words, or the way that Higuruma thrusts in deep. So deep that he knocks against your womb. “-and you want me to fucking hold on?”

So deep that he’s cumming.

Loooooong, miry stripes of seed that stick to your walls. 

They dribble down your insides. That glaze every inch of you in a creamy white- splashin’ around your insides and coating every nook n’ cranny. It just feels so sizzling hot inside of you, and you’re shivering at the feeling of him warming you up from the inside - saturated sap leaving you whimpering at the noise. The warmth.

He fucks his webs of seed deeper inside. And you raise your head up ever-so-slightly and watch as it dribbles out of you.

And Higuruma can’t help but do the same-

“Fuck…” He breathes. “S-so are we about to hold off on that pregnancy, too?”

.

.

.

“Boss-” Higuruma turns his head at the address of his title - none other than the very same junior from yesterday. She shuffled slightly before him, almost nervous to voice out such thoughts—“You seem well today, sir.”

Higuruma hums, “Is that so?”

She nods eagerly. “Your dark circles have cleared up- and you seem to be glowing. Alert. A bit more sharp than you were yesterday…” Assessing all of him- “You just seem happier than you’ve been in days, sir. Is the fraud case really going that well?”

And he has to hide a smile with the paper he was holding. “You could say that…”

A/N. No idea why this turned into them also trying to get us pregnant- maybe I’m ovulating??

Plagiarism not authorized.

[megumour-deactivated20260504]

the best (or worst?) honeymoon ever with satoru previous | m.list | next

satoru gojo, was not a pervert.

at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself.

when his gaze drifted, lingering a little too long on your figure, tracing the curve of your sundress, he reminded himself: this was all he was allowed to do. to appreciate from afar.

the day you left for your honeymoon, your mothers had warned you.

"no... relations yet. it would be tacky if the newlyweds were expecting that soon. we have a reputation to protect for goodness sake.”

you couldn’t contain your laughter when you heard this. the three of them looked at you like you were insane, their expressions a mix of shock, confusion, and mild annoyance.

“trust me. you do not have to worry about that. i’ll be sleeping in my room and he will sleep in his.”

your mother scanned your face for even the smallest flicker of uncertainty. 

“very well then. glad that it has been settled.” she pointed a finger at satoru. “you. you better make good on your promise this time. that little stunt at the altar was forgiven but not forgotten.” 

his eyes widened, and he nodded slowly, every movement exaggerated with caution.

“yes, ma’am,” he said, his tone unusually solemn.

you snorted. even someone like him, with all his confidence and arrogance, couldn’t hide how itnimtadted he was.

rightfully so, you thought to yourself, that woman is batshit crazy.

your first day in thailand was spent sleeping. the jetlag hit you hard, causing you to pass out the second your head hit the pillow. you napped for five hours straight, woke up to use the bathroom, then slept for another three.

satoru also retired to his room after the flight. you hadn’t seen him since the ride back from the airport. you wondered if he had slept in too.

you rubbed your eyes and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. it was 2PM in thailand and you just now woke up. there was no way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

it was going to be a long week.

you got up and took a shower. the hotel you were staying at had its bathroom stocked up with shower gels and lotions to the brim. it had a strong fruity smell that lingered. you put one in your suitcase for safekeeping.

after dressing, you decided to check on your husband. it felt weird to think of him like that. you had only just met him a few days ago but would be spending the rest of your life with him. he was yet to grow on you: he talked too much, was very immature, a bit arrogant, and sort of clingy. it was a mystery how he was so popular. you found him insufferable. nonetheless, you were stuck with him.

you rapped your knuckles against his door, hoping he was awake or at least hear you. a few seconds later, a disheveled satoru gojo appeared.

“good morning.” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“it’s 2PM.”

“really? damn…” he trailed off as if he was lost in thought.

you rolled your eyes and pushed past him.

his room was slightly cooler than yours.

lucky bastard. it got pretty hot in thailand during the spring so you’d been cranking the AC up ever since you arrived.

he hadn’t unpacked yet. his suitcase was in the corner with a familiar looking blanket draped over it.

you spun around and narrowed your eyes at him.

“so that’s where my blanket went. i’ve been looking for it everywhere.” you folded it neatly and tucked it under your arm.

he murmured a sorry and let out a yawn.

“think i’m gonna go back to bed,” he stretched, “wanna join me?”

you grimaced. how was he still flirty while drowsy?

“that’ll be a hard no. i’m gonna check out the spa though. sleep well.”

 you gave him a small nod and walked out, closing the door gently behind you.

you knew he was just messing with you but it made you wonder. he didn’t always mean it as a joke. he quite literally made out with you in front of everyone at the wedding.

it was to piss off the clan. you reminded himself.

he clearly had an agenda. do everything his mother told him not to do just to piss her off. so far he’s been somewhat successful. she almost lost it over your very public snog. the last thing she told him not to do was..

yuck. you shook your head at the thought.

no, he wouldn’t. as pushy as he could be, he seemed to know his limits and know you’d kick his ass if he tried anything. sure you entertained the idea at the wedding reception, but you were joking. partially. you really did think he wouldn’t be able to handle sex with you. it would end him. you knew he was all talk but you were the exact opposite. plus, someone had to put him in his place.

as you made your way down to the spa, you silently cursed yourself for forgetting to ask for satoru’s itinerary. you wanted to go diving but you couldn’t go alone. squeezing in a time for you two to go together was the only way.

whatever, i’ll see him later anyway. you sighed. if the idiot would wake up on time.

three hours later, you got ready for dinner. the restaurants here required formal wear to dine in. you didn’t mind. you wanted to look nice. you were in a beautiful country, surrounded with beautiful sights, sounds, and colors. you wanted to feel beautiful too.

you put on your earrings and finished up your makeup. a moment later, you heard a soft knock at your door.

you peeked through the peephole and saw satoru. you mentally prepared yourself for him and his little shengains.

you opened the door and immediately asked: 

“what do you want?” 

you wanted him to get straight to the point.

his eyes drank you in slowly, trailing from your face down, before he cleared his throat. 

“i’m here to take my wife out to dinner.”

you gave him a puzzled look and ignored his boldness, refusing to dignify him calling you that.

“o-kay. why?”

he shrugged. 

“why not?”

“well for starters, despite being legally bound, i met you like, three days ago.”

he considered this.

“fair point. but isn't that more the reason to come? we’re going to be in each other's lives until one of us quite literally dies. we might as well get to know the person that we’re stuck with for that long.”

you pressed your lips into a firm line. unfortunately he was right. it would be better to get to know him. just a little. to make all this a little less scary.

“fine.”

his eyes weren’t on you though. they were a couple inches lower.

you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

“satoru! eyes up here!”

he quickly met your eyes and his face twisted into a scowl.

“quit snapping your fingers at me. i’m not a dog.”

“then stop acting like one,” you shot back and he went quiet.

dinner was awkward at first. both of you didn’t know where to start. the only thing you knew about this man was his name and that his family was very, very rich and important. you didn’t know about his hopes and dreams, his biggest fears, or even his favorite color. but you were expected to stick with him for better or worse.

you were royally screwed.

as he flipped through his menu, satoru chewed his lip and raked a hand through his hair. he seemed more restless than usual. 

i guess reality was finally setting in for him too.

the waiter came by with water and made small talk.

“hello, my name is micah and i’ll be your server today. how are you guys doing today?”

you both answered him with a polite “good, and what about you?” 

“i’m good, thank you,” he beamed at you two. “are we celebrating anything special? and can i get you started with any drinks?”

“uhh...” satoru hesitated.

“we just got married.” you blurted out. satoru gave you a bewildered look. you were shocked too. you weren’t exactly sure what had possessed you to say that.

micah on the other hand, looked pleased.

“congratulations! well in that case, you get drinks and dessert on the house.”

you ordered a shirley temple and he ordered a coca cola anyway.

“i’ll get that started for you guys. oh and are you ready to order?”

“yes. i’ll get the sweet and spicy chicken please,” satoru handed micah his menu.

“and i’ll get the steak please.” you thanked him as he took your menu as well.

satoru stared at you for a moment too long after he left.

“what?” you raised an eyebrow.

“what do you think of this sex ban we’re on?”

“sex ban…?” you blinked at him. “oh that. that surprised me. i thought they wanted us to have children as soon as humanly possible.” you sipped your water.

“but this works better for me.” you added

he titled his head. “oh? i thought you said sex with you would, and i quote. ‘destory’ me and that we’d have to find out.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, making the air quotes with his fingers.

“that is true. i did say that.” you agreed.

“what you’re saying now contradicts that.”

you almost choked on your water. “uh no.”

“uh, yes?!? it totally does. maybe you were just projecting then. maybe sex with me would destroy you.” he wagged his finger at you.

you glared at him. “why the hell are we even having this conversation?”

“stop changing the subject. but good question, though i should be asking you that. why the hell did you bring that up the day we met?”

“i was joking.” you insisted.

“what an odd thing to joke about. unless, of course, you weren’t joking.” he smirked at you and took a sip of his water

you gritted your teeth. this asshole had you cornered, and both of the ways out had unpleasant outcomings.

you could either:

a. come out as a creepy pervert that “jokes” about sex the day same day you meet someone

or

b. some sex addicted horndog that would hump anything it comes into close contact to.

you’d rather him pull the trigger.

you pondered on this, deciding your fate.

“well?” satoru asked you after a beat.

“i plead the fifth.” 

“you’re japanese.” he deadpanned. micah came back with your drinks and you both shut up.

“one shirley temple and coca cola for my favorite newlyweds. again, on the house!” 

he seemed very happy about the fact the two of you were married. even more happy than the two of you combined.

you thanked him again. satoru snickered after he left.

“damn he’s elated.”

 you nodded.

“do you think we’re the problem or him?” you whispered.

he shook his head.

“definitely him.” 

you both chuckled, the sound fading until it slowly petered out into silence. it was sad a complete stranger was more happy about one of the supposedly best days of your entire life than you were. you didn't know if it was disappointment or dread swirling in your stomach. 

maybe it was a mix of both

being the disturber of silence he was, satoru kicked you under the table to you a few minutes later:

“ow!”

“1,500 yen says you’re gonna try jumping my bones before this honeymoon is over.”

you laughed in his face.

“you sound ridiculous."

“nah. scared you’re going to lose?

“you wish.” you stuck your hand out and shook on it.

“game on.”

tag list: @maddy24207 , @psychosimp17 , @tiredcrybabystuff , @umiiko , @meepio, @marensbones, @idaliaalexzandrasinclaire, @zooz00, @a4r1ana, @tarzanfollowsyou, @happyfoxtechnomancer, @carlacrazyyy, @yuyudachi, @apricityn, @mariisagb, @babblybebe, @auroras-pleasures, @luvs-angel, @chewiebee, @yesiimorada22, @mytohruu, @scarleytte, @ushijimasassmuscle, @thursdaysschild, @jennyistrendy, @toru-saki, @craziikei, @hannahzg8, @miksde, @jia127zen, @ttorubby, @neutralizeeverymaninsight, @sorenflyinn, @brethebomb2, @ssetsuka, @arrozyfrijoles23, @kayceewayne2009, @iiluvpercs, @inlovewithpsychos, @bifayel, @mvcg-oo, @1stmagnoila, @angelinahyu, @artbligh, @bizzystraightoffthedome, @crunchycathy, @dreamydaredevil, @emmsiesstuff, @gray-21, @hel-lhound, @hoesluvshoko, @jiminismine4ever, @lostgirlinthewoodss, @moonz33, @okaylorrainee, @peachmartini, @rarepandalily, @thatsopanu, @vampsiclee, @justbagel, @satuhoe, @valberryboos, @Inugoated

i added a few more people who had interacted w any of the 3 previous parts or filled out the taglist form! comment to be removed! and comment/fill out this form to be added to the taglist.

a/n: made it longer this time :D hope yall are fw it even tho i think this is technically edging (sorry unless u like it (???)) alsoo would yall fw a pinned post of a little about me, my rules, taglist link etc? no one interacted w it i, had to take ts down i was very embarrassed LMFAO...

thank you for all your love and support i love replying to ur comments and asks it keeps me going plus ur all so cool and funny!

reblogs are appreciated! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[bfbkg]

BABY DADDY MASTERLIST

— meet kenji bakugou yln!! the baby of yn yln and bakugou katsuki. no, they’re not married… or in a relationship… yeah, you know they’ve never dated! it was just a one night stand and she still had the baby. i heard he’s a good father too… wait look, are you sure like they’re not dating?

— tags: romance, angst, fluff, nurse!reader, baby mama!reader, baby daddy!bkg, pro hero!bkg, eventual smut, secret relationship, female reader

— if you’d like to be on the taglist: here

— #baby daddy bkg : everything on the blog about them!

001 CRUSH

— bakugou has a crush on his baby mama

002 BAD TO BETTER (2.6k)

— after a bad day at work, your baby father comes over to drop your kid home

003 THE REAL DYNAMIGHT (3.7k)

— you take it upon yourself to deliver this ugly yellow haired figurine prototype to the dynamight office

004 M.I.A (5.8k)

— pro hero dynamight is currently missing in action!

005 WONDER CHILD (5.6k)

— mr and mrs bakugou, can we talk about kenji inside please?

006 WISHFUL THINKING (5k)

— after practically begging for you to go on a date with him, bakugou katsuki is still yet to ask you out on one so you ask him to fix your car.

007 GOLDEN (13k)

— your baby father takes you on a date to a hero gala. he ends up threatening to kill someone.

other:

in the supermarket

questions

mama bakugou

more mama bakugou

questions

tantrums

[luv-kakashi]

I LOVE THIS

[lovezaynie]

Nanami Kento and Nanami Rei Masterlist (Age order)

Rei is a curious and smiling girl who came into your and your husband's lives to fill it with light, laughter, and, above all, an extra dose of love. A perfect balance between your husband's physical appearance and your free spirit. Below are all my works sorted by Rei's age.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Introducing Nanami Rei!

Recognition (Newborn): Where Rei recognizes her dad's voice outside of the womb.

Daddy's First Night (Two Months Old): Nanami is left in charge of Rei while you go out and enjoy yourself. He's not the best father, but they're learning. Together.

Teddy bear (Two months old): After finding an old bear onesie, you decide to put it on Rei...

Lullaby (Two months old): Nanami finds you singing to Rei one night. But, a week later, you are the one catching him singing to her.

First steps (Three months old): Rei takes her first steps and Nanami almost cries.

Language (Three months old): Where Rei wants to talk, badly.

Nap (Three months old): When your husband tries to nap, a little gremlin won't stay still... he loves her anyway.

Late-night feeding sessions (Four months old): Where Rei wakes up hungry at 4 AM, your husband decides to let you sleep for the night, taking the night shift

Sleeping (Four months old): Where you and your husband are lulled to sleep by Rei's sounds over the baby monitor

Sick (Four and a half months old) : When your daughter gets her first cold, Kento doesn't leavebher side for a second.

Rei's first kiss! (Five months): Where Rei learned to give kisses. She needs a little practice, though...

Vaccines (Five months old): Kento's biggest enemy? His little girl's first vaccines.

Word (six months old): Rei has learned a single word and refuses to say anything else.

Sleepless nights (Six months old): You and your husband were warned that when Rei arrives, you should say goodbye to a good night's sleep. But they never mentioned it would be so worth it.

First Impression (Six months): Where Gojo and his students meet the recent addition to the Nanami household.

First words (One year old): The morning started with Rei's full energy. At breakfast, Nanami gets a warm surprise when his little girl finally says her first word.

Birthday (One year old): Rei's first birthday.

Nanami! (One year old): You teach Rei to say "Nanami" just to tease him.

Challenge (One and a half year old): After watching videos of terrible parenting pranks, your husband decides to do his own challenge with baby Rei

Anti-Violence (two years old): Where you and Nanami realize that perhaps you were too kind to her. She now refuses to hit the piñata...

Picnic day (Two years old): A picnic with a restless toddler can be tiring, but with your husband by your side everything seems better.

Rei 'Cockblocking' Nanami (Two years old): All those times you and your husband were interrupted before intimate moments. There's only one culprit...

Big brain, small body (two and a half years old): Where Rei, even at her small age, knows how to use physics to her advantage.

Train Ride (Two and a half years old): The three of you are a sight for sore eyes. A loving family that catches everyone's eyes.

Massages (Three years old): Children watch, children learn. Rei decides to give you a massage like Nanami always does.

Spoiled (Three years old): Where at Christmas you realize that Rei isn't the only spoiled one.

Period care (Three and a half years old): Where you have an extra, very young nurse to take care of you on your period.

Patience (Three and a half years old): Where Rei insists on waiting impatiently for her daddy to come home from work to show him her new dress and cute hairstyle.

Babies (Three and a half years old): Where Rei asks the infamous question 'where do babies come from?'

Photographer (Three and a half years old): Since Rei learned how to use a phone, Kento and you hadn't known peace.

Halloween! (Four years old): Spending Halloween with your family. What better costume than Monsters Inc.? You have the most adorable Boo in the world.

A sibling (four years old): Where Rei asks for a sibling.

Lovesick (four years old): Kento comes home drunk, Rei doesn't quite understand the situation, but still helps him.

Not alone (Five years old): When Rei claims to see "ugly things", worried, you and your husband know exactly what it's about.

Not ready (Five years old): It's Rei's first day at school! Someone is not ready to let her go, though...

Love letter! (Five years old): Where Rei receives her first love letter in kindergarten.

Daddy-Daughter dance (five years old): A shy Rei asks her dad to go to the dance with her.

Caretaker (Five years old): Pregnant with your second baby, you realize that Rei is very strict and serious about you having to rest.

Manicure session (Seven years old): As the title says, Rei takes a very unwilling victim for her "nail salon".

Perfect Ratio (Ten years old): Where Nanami teaches Rei how to use her inherited cursed technique.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Rei and Yuji fics:

(not in order!!)

Suit: Where Yuji decides to wear a suit when meeting Rei...

Babysitting: Yuji takes care of Rei so you can g out on a date with your husband. You find the cutest scene when you come back.

Growing up: Rei and Yuji bonding while she grows up to remember him with love and respect.

Adventure: Rei goes on an adventure (getting ice cream) with big brother Yuji!

Four pairs of feet: Yearly vacations in Malaysia are a must in the Nanami household. But when summer approaches, you and your husband realize that someone is going to spend it alone... what a better idea than to bring him too?

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Pregnancy fics.

(not in order!!)

"The time where we learned to love more slowly"

A bun in the oven: You announcing your pregnancy to Nanami and the first-years students. (and their teacher...)

Rei's first kick.

Arrival: Your daughter's finally arrived safely to your arms. Nanami was there with you the whole time. (Ft. Gojo and Yuji).

Baby name picking: Kento has found the perfect name for your little girl.

Protector: Where you, six months pregnant, got pushed to the floor at the grocery store. Kento felt pure fear.

Gender Reveal: You reveal the gender of your baby through... cupcakes!

Baby shower: Your husband surprises you with a baby shower.

Mood swings: Just Nanami handling your mood swings and weird cravings.

Class: You and Nanami attend a Maternity class.

Disbelief: When he overhears someone complaining about their pregnant wife, Kento is in complete disbelief.

Penguin: where he loves his pregnant wife's waddle.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

[luv-kakashi]

i’m too emotionally attached to this series

[luv-kakashi]

Hey, Are you suri from Wattpad?

yes i am! 🩷

[haikyu-mp4]

Damning evidence – Daichi x reader wc 846 – f!reader requested by @cottonlemonade for A blast from the past, parenting edition<3

Your lips were pursed when your husband got home from work in the late afternoon, and you gestured for him not to take his uniform off. He had been working overtime to earn a bit extra for your son’s upcoming school trip, but he would have to do a little work at home, too. “Our neighbour was just here.”

“The one with all the cats or the one with the annoying tree,” Daichi asked, leaning in to peck your forehead in greeting before toeing off his shoes.

“The one with the cats,” you confirmed, nodding slowly.

Daichi squinted at you. “And?”

“One of those cats was missing when she came home from work. She had reasons to believe it was a catnapping.” Doing your best not to chuckle, you gave Daichi the information you had gotten from the lady before pointing over your shoulder and lowering your voice. “I think our son stole the cat.”

Daichi’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“There was a very clear meow from his room when I knocked on the door asking if he wanted dinner before or after you got home. He said that he needed to do some homework. In other words, he asked me not to come in.”

You finally cracked, letting out a little snort of laughter at the same time as Daichi did, and you both spent a minute leaning on each other and snickering at your son’s ridiculous crime. Daichi was quite hungry, so you also stopped by the kitchen for an apple and had a briefing on his day before you made your way to the stairs. “Good cop, bad cop?” you asked.

“I’m thinking cop,” Daichi pointed to himself, then to you. “Mother.”

You snorted, waving him off. “You’re an idiot.”

Daichi scoffed in insult, gesturing to his well-worn uniform and looking somewhat cocky in his next words. “I’m literally a cop.”

You knocked on your son’s door, opening it despite his urgency in telling you to keep out. “We have a warrant!”

Walking inside calmly, you just managed to see your son using his foot to push something under his bed before he turned to you like the young gentleman he was. “Dad! ‘Sup, how was work?”

“You can address me as Officer Sawamura.” You did a double-take and looked at your husband with surprise, before following his lead.

“The police came, they’re investigating a catnapping. A kidnapping. Of a cat.”

“Oh, that’s a shame for real,” your son empathised. You nodded in agreement.

“A meow was reportedly heard from this room about an hour ago,” Daichi told him, pretending to read from the little notebook he had pulled from his uniform pocket. “We have reason to believe you were involved in the kidnapping.”

Your son scratched the back of his head and used the tip of his slipper to draw patterns on the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe the cat distribution system found a new home for it.”

“Evidence number two.” By now, you were watching Daichi just as curiously as your son was watching nervously. “The wrapper from a cat food packet. Found in the trash can downstairs.”

Your son chuckled awkwardly and looked at you. “Damn, mom. Didn’t know you ate those.”

Holding a hand over your mouth, you pretended to be coughing to hide any hint of a snicker. “I don’t.”

“Son, please be honest with us,” Daichi requested, finally done with the script he had made up while going up the stairs.

“That’s pretty damning evidence, honey,” you added, walking over to your son and patting him on the back. “Is there a cat under your bed?”

Just as you said that, a grey cat made its way out from under the bed, licking its lips before meowing again. The boy sighed. “There was.”

Daichi picked up the cat, scratching it around the neck. “Why did you steal it?”

“I wanted to show this girl in my class. Her cat died, and she’s been so sad about it,” he muttered.

You looked at Daichi with a pout, and he seemed equally moved by the purpose. “That’s valiant of you, but you could have just asked to go pet the cats.”

Groaning, he rubbed his face with both hands. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Return the cat before dinner. Tell her about the girl, she’ll forgive you right away,” Daichi instructed, a caring smile on his face. “And you’re grounded for the rest of the week, no computer except for doing homework.”

“Fine.” He took the cat from his dad, huffing in annoyance before stomping down the stairs.

Daichi looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows. “Want me to make that two weeks?” he yelled.

Shaking your head affectionately, you gave your husband a big smooch on the lips before following your son down the stairs to get dinner started. Meanwhile, you wondered if Daichi remembered that time he cut his neighbour’s flowers with scissors to bring you a nice bouquet for your first date, back when you were teenagers. Like father, like son.

masterlist

[luv-kakashi]

STAWP i LOVE this ugh 😛 may this love aggressively attack me in the future 💗🙏🏽

[sylveonnx]

Fanfic Announcement Time!- NaruSasu Edition!

Hey, NaruSasu lovers! I’ve got two fanfics starring our favorite disaster duo, and both are up on my profile! Whether you're in the mood for angst or beachy romance, there's something for you:

Last song- Two hearts linked by memories, art, and a love that seemed eternal.

Naruto is a musician stuck in a creative block after a painful breakup with Sasuke, a talented artist. Two years later, fate throws them back together — and with old feelings resurfacing, they’ll have to choose between trying again or finally saying goodbye. Expect romance, emotional drama, and bittersweet vibes.

H20 Summer- A breezy, beachside rom-com!

Naruto is a sunny local surfer with wild energy, golden skin, and zero shame. After a wave-filled morning, he wanders into the traditional Uchiha family restaurant — and meets Sasuke, the serious (and very attractive) waiter. Chaos ensues when Naruto starts calling him “hot waiter” and casually flirts like it's his full-time job. Expect fluff, comedy, and summery vibes.

If you enjoyed the fic, consider leaving a like or reblogging! It really helps more than you know and who knows, maybe someone else will find their next favorite fic because of you ♡

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

chapter eighteen - tick tock

chapter seventeen |

The stabbing cold air filled the walls of The Byakuya, biting at the stone and seeping through every crack. The once bustling halls, where shinobi plotted and conspired, now echoed with emptiness. The only sound that remained was the rhythmic clack of The Reaper's heels as she walked through the corridors. Her expression, hidden beneath that hauntingly blank white mask, betrayed nothing, but her clenched jaw told a different story.

Kakuzu's words replayed in her mind like a curse she couldn't escape.

"You've been losing more and more bounty hunters by the day... yet here you are, blinded by the loss of Y/N. You can't even see how crippled we've become."

The weight of the commission pressed down harder with every passing day, their breath cold on her neck. Each weekly report she submitted painted a darker picture. Grave losses mounted: A-ranked shinobi slipping through their fingers like sand, the coffers running dry. Number Thirteen, her prize, the one that slipped away, still out of her reach.

The Mizukage's presence loomed large in every meeting, accompanied by his legion of masked shinobi, their silent stares more oppressive than any words. Their demands for results were relentless, each failure adding another crack in the already fragile foundation of The Byakuya.

The Byakuya was never meant to be bound by the same rules as other shinobi, operating outside the system, enforcing the Mizukage's dictatorship with brutal efficiency, and killing anyone he demanded. But now, with shinobi slipping through her grasp like ghosts in the mist, what legitimacy did they have left?

The Reaper knew the weight of this unspoken question. If she couldn't regain control, if she couldn't deliver results, the very existence of The Byakuya would be called into question. The authority they once wielded with impunity was now teetering on the edge, threatening to crumble beneath the weight of their failures. The Reaper balled her fist tightly, the leather of her gloves creaking as her rage bubbled just beneath the surface.

Without a second thought, she slammed her fist into the cold stone wall beside her. The sharp crack of impact echoed through the empty halls of The Byakuya.

She swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in her throat, but the frustration burned too hot. Every failure, every lost shinobi, every demand from the Mizukage weighed heavy on her, as she struggled to keep her subordinates in line.

Shisui and I have one mission: ambush the Iwa-nin heading toward Minato-sensei's position and destroy any artillery and supply routes along the way. Despite the fact that I've completed countless missions- assassination, sabotage, infiltration -it doesn't get any easier. Taking lives as if they meant nothing... as if it were a routine task, always left a hollow feeling in my chest.

I tried to tell myself that everything I did was for my family. Following The Byakuya rule and killing relentlessly, I did anything if it meant that my family would be safe so that they would never have to worry about money or relocating again to support the clan.

But if the 'enemy' is doing the same, then who is truly right?

Shisui noticed the deafening silence settling between us, slowing down his pace as we made our way back to Konoha.  "Y/N, you okay? You've been lost in thought for a while now," Shisui said, his eyes softening as he looked over his shoulder at me.

I blinked, snapping out of my trance and managed a half-hearted smile.

"Shisui, you've been a shinobi for a while now...  don't you find it ironic that we kill shinobi for the sake of protecting the village? Is that what it means to protect a village? Killing others to protect our peace?"

Shisui paused, his expression thoughtful as he gazed into the distance. "Yeah, it's ironic. I think about it too sometimes," he admitted, his voice low. "We're taught that protecting the village is the highest duty, but it often means taking lives to do it. It's not easy to reconcile, and it's something that weighs on every shinobi."

He paused, his eyes darkening as he continued, "I don't even know if there is such a thing as justice in the shinobi world. We fight believing in our own justice. But if the enemy is doing the same thing, who's right?"

Shisui's words settle between us like a thick blanket, choking any rational morale thought. It gnaws at my mind over and over. The only reason why I am in Konoha to begin with is for Sumire. yet, everything I've been a part of, the masked man's orders, spying on Kushina, watching every movement of the Leaf, it all spiraled back to a twisted form of justice. His justice.

My fists clenched at my sides and my heart pounding with the conflict in my head. "What if none of us are right? How will we ever find peace if we're just protecting those we love?"

He stared off into the distance as his eyes clouded with darkness. "Maybe we won't," he said softly. "Maybe that's the real tragedy of being a shinobi." The silence that followed felt suffocating. The cold wind brushed against my skin as I jumped through the trees.

"But," he added, breaking the silence, "that's why we have to hold on to something. Even  if peace seems impossible...it's worth it to protect what I hold dear."

How could I protect what was precious to me if doing so meant sacrificing others? Would there ever be a way to break free from this cycle?

Although Konoha has graciously welcomed me into their home, a shadow lurks behind me watching my every move, reminding me of my purpose in Konoha. A duty, a promise, a threat. The masked man's grip on me, on Sumire, looms like a storm cloud, always there, always pressing.

But I just can't abandon Sumire, the only family I have left. Would Konoha accept her too? Could I bring her here, to this place that has shown me kindness, and protect her without betraying everything I've been forced to keep hidden?

If only she could be here by my side, safe within the walls of Konoha, away from the shadows of The Byakuya and the masked man's reach. Then, maybe I could protect all those I love without having to sacrifice one for the other.

But what if Konoha won't accept her? What if my choice between them has already been made, and I'm just blinded by the thought of protecting them all, saving myself from the bloodshed of this violent cycle of hatred? .

'Where did I go wrong?' I whispered, staring at myself in the mirror. The longer I stare at myself, the more unrecognisable I look. My eyes drooped. The bags under my eyes stained darker than ever. Kushina sensei's right, my hair has grown since I arrived.  I ripped her hairclip from my hair.

Sumire sang mindlessly as the sound of soft sizzling echoed through the cabin. Rays of moonlight slithered past the moss-covered window, and the tap relentlessly dripped. Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Each drip echoed in my ears telling me to run. Run as far as I can. Each drop reminded me that it doesn't have to end like this.

I closed my eyes desperately searching for a way out of this mess. I don't want to have to betray Kushina sensei, I don't want to lose everything that means so much to me.

I thought fleeing to Konoha would free me of this sin. Yet every time I get lost in Shisui's eyes, the guilt washes over me as I drown knowing that Shisui has fallen for a lie. And every lie I've told him now feels like a betrayal written across my skin.

I walk out into the kitchen area and find Sumire plating up some white rice and meat. She hummed a lullaby I recognised, one that mother would always sing us when we could never sleep.

"Sumire... let's go home," I whispered, walking over to her taking her hands into mine. Sumire froze and her eyes, wide with surprise, fixed on mine.

"Home?" she echoed softly, searching my face trying to understand my proposition. I tightened my grip on her hands, feeling the warmth of her palms.

"Yeah... let's go home. It will be just us from now on. No more hiding in this cabin, no more running at the crack of dawn back to Konoha, just me and you."

She looked down at our joined hands, her fingers pulling away from my touch. "But what about the masked man?" Her voice wavered as she pulled her hands away from me.

A lump formed in my throat, but I pushed through. "If he finds us, I'll deal with him. But how long can we keep living like this? You in this cabin, so far away from everyone else and never having the chance to see the world, and I'm many miles and miles away from you. But we owe it to ourselves, to Mom..."

Sumire's face softened, her eyes filling with a familiar sadness. She took a shaky breath, looking around at the small, quiet cabin that had been her world for so long and she took my hand and squeezed my fingers. "Okay, let's go," she whispered.

A mix of hope, fear and adrenaline filled the air. We were finally saying goodbye to Konoha. I cannot keep lying and betraying those closest to me. As I knelt, Sumire climbed onto my back, her small arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders. I could feel her heartbeat against my back. All this time, I'd fought my battles alone, constantly pulled between duty and loyalty, but now, with her so close, it felt like I could finally breathe.

Every night I spent in Konoha, every mission with Shisui and Team Two, every fleeting moment of peace, they'd all been overshadowed by this one goal. To run. To leave behind this web of deception and betrayal before it consumed me.

I adjusted Sumire's weight, feeling her press her cheek against my shoulder, seeking comfort. "Are you ready?" I asked softly.

She whispered, "Yes," her voice barely audible against the night air.

We stepped out of the cabin for good, the night air biting against our skin as if trying to pull us back. The cold crept into every part of me, but I kept moving forward, Sumire clutching tightly to my back. I glanced up at the stars, bright against the inky sky, feeling their distant gaze urging me forward.

Sumire shifted slightly, her cheek pressing against my shoulder, her breath warm even as it mingled with the chilly air. "Do you think... do you think we'll make it?"

"I'm sure we will."

Just as I muttered those words, Sumire's eyes widened as an invisible force wrapped around her throat, cold and relentless. Her fingers clawed at her neck, desperate to loosen the grip, but there was nothing to grab onto. Her breaths came shallow and frantic, each one harder to draw than the last, as if the very air around her had thickened, pressing in on her chest. She clutched her chest, the pain becoming far too much for her to bear. Her vision blurred and her limbs went numb as her body felt limp in my arms.

"Sumire? Sumire?!" I shouted, my voice trembling as I laid her gently on the ground. My eyes darted over her body, searching for any visible injury, any mark, any sign of what was happening. But there was nothing. No wounds, no visible signs, just the terror in her eyes, and her chest rising and falling in desperate, shallow breaths.

My hands shook as I pressed my fingers against her neck, feeling her racing pulse beneath her skin. "Stay with me, Sumire," I whispered, my heart pounding with fear.

I wracked my mind, running through every jutsu I'd ever seen, every story I'd ever heard of techniques that could strangle without a touch. "This... this has to be genjutsu," I muttered under my breath. If it was, I needed to break it- But how?

"Foolish girl, did you really think you could run away from me?"

A low, guttural chuckle echoed behind me, freezing my blood mid-pulse. I whipped around, my breath catching as my gaze met the glint of his single eye through that hauntingly familiar mask. Shock ripped through me, and my knees buckled slightly under its weight. My mouth opened, but no sound came. Every instinct in me wanted to fight. Every fibre of my being screamed. We're so close to being home.

The masked man took a slow step closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.

"I will not ask again you insolent brat. Tell me about Kushina Uzumaki's weaknesses."

My hands holding Sumire trembled. Each time I opened my mouth, my lips quivered and no matter how hard I struggled, the words refused to form. My throat felt tight, as if the air itself had turned against me ears blurred my vision, mingling with the icy wind that bit at my skin, but all I could see was Sumire's face, pale and contorted in pain. Her breaths were shallow, desperate gasps slipping through clenched teeth, and I felt powerless.

"Speak," the masked man ordered, his voice sharp and unforgiving. Each syllable cut into me, making my hands shake harder.

"I..." My voice cracked, barely audible against the sound of Sumire's strained whimpers. "I have nothing... There's nothing I could tell you that would be useful to you. She's a jounin level kunoichi and she's married to Minato-sensei. She's also my sensei. Kami, that's all I know, I promise."

"Pathetic," he said, taking a menacing step closer. His towering figure blocked out the moonlight, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow us whole, "Is that all you have to say? It has been 3 months since I instructed you to infiltrate Konoha for me and this is all you have to show for it?"

The masked man knelt down, his hand tangling roughly in my hair and yanking my head back. Pain shot through my scalp, forcing a strangled gasp from my throat as I was made to meet his gaze.  My reflection shone in his eyes, distorted and trembling.

"Tell me why I should spare her life, you foolish Uzumaki," he sneered from under his mask, pulling a kunai from under his cloak as he traced the blade across Sumire's skin.

"Let go of her!" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper against the storm of fear swirling inside me.

The masked man tilted his head, as if amused by my defiance. "You're in no position to make demands."

"Look... just give me a few more days, I promise I'll get more information for you," I sputtered. I frantically patted down my body until my fingers brushed over the side of my arm undoing the jutsu. Three scrolls fell out hitting the cold ground. Nuibari, Kabutowari and Samehada.

"Take these scrolls, they contain three of the seven swords belonging to the swordsmen of the mist... it's all I can offer you for now."

He tilted his head, his silence unnerving. "You're offering me these?" His voice was calm, but it carried a razor-sharp edge of suspicion, cutting through my frantic breath. "The prized weapons of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen... Do you think I'm a fool, Y/N?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as I reached out to steady Sumire. "No... No tricks, I swear. These scrolls are real," My voice cracked under the weight of my desperation. "Just give me more time. I can get you more on Kushina, on the village."

The masked man stood, his figure swallowed me whole. He reached down, his gloved hand brushing over one of the scrolls, his posture eerily still as he picked it up. The silence stretched thin, the sound of Sumire's labored breathing and my own thundering heart the only things filling the void.

Finally, he spoke, his tone measured yet laced with a cold amusement. "You're resourceful, I'll give you that. But these swords won't save you if you're lying to me." He straightened, the scrolls now in his grasp. "You have three days to get your information straight. Three days you insolent brat."

He disappeared into the darkness leaving a chill in the air. I rushed to get Sumire back into the cabin. Her skin began to regain its warmth. The unnatural stillness of her body gave way to soft, steady breaths, each one like a fragile thread tethering her back to me. I brushed damp strands of hair from her face, my fingers trembling as I checked her pulse once more, just to be sure.

"Sumire..." I whispered, my voice cracking as relief washed over me. But it was fleeting.

I sank to my knees beside her, my heart still racing, and stared at the floor. The encounter with the masked man replayed in my mind. Three days. That was all I had.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The Byakuya, an organisation like the Anbu yet all it aims to do is enforce the brutal dictatorship of the Mizukage. Which mainly includes bounty hunting the enemies of the Mist.

Yet The Reaper constantly falls short of the Mizukage's demands. With A-ranked shinobi escaping each day and money haemorrhaging with each escape, the Reaper doesn't know how she's going to face the Mizukage.

And her favourite. Her daughter. Kunoichi Thirteen. Y/N is no longer in her grasp.

Stay tuned to find out why the Reaper is so obsessed with Y/N.

Y/N hates this. She hates the guilt building up inside her. The longer she stays in Konoha the harder it will be to leave.

But at this rate, with the Masked Man's genjutsu on Sumire. Y/N has no option to leave. She has no choice.

Only three days.

But you guys, I finished writing the turning point for this arc. Chapter 25. Im so broken. But that means I'm officially One whole arc in!!! I didn't think i'd make it this far i'm so proud!

I hope you're enjoying the story! And as always, you can find this story on wattpad (if you prefer wattpad formatting)

Love, Suri!

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

chapter seventeen - nightmare

chapter sixteen | chapter eighteen

The cabin was slowly starting to look like home... well at least a home. Fewer cobwebs marked their territory across the room and the floorboards creaked less often as we tiptoed around them.

Between the odd missions here and there I managed to slip away from the village and deliver small bits of furniture and trinkets I had collected. A rickety chair by the fireplace, an old shelf I had found discarded in the marketplace, and a few cushions I managed to sew together in my free time.

It wasn't much, but every time I walked in, I felt a little more at ease. The once-empty, cold walls now held warmth, though faint. There was something comforting about it, knowing that this place, away from the village, was just like my little attic world with Sumire. 

"Sumire, have you ever fallen in love?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I sat cross-legged in front of her. The sun filtered through the window, casting warm patches of light across the room, and her fingers moved deftly, mindlessly braiding my hair.

She paused for a moment, her touch still gentle, though I could feel the weight of the silence between us. Sumire had always been the stronger one, not just because she was my older sister but because her spirit was unshakable. Even after all the pain, after everything life had taken from her, her heart remained whole.

"Love..." she murmured, her voice thoughtful, distant. "It's different for everyone, you know? It's not just about romance, Y/N. Sometimes love is... fighting for someone, protecting them. Sometimes, it's giving up everything for them." She sighed, and I felt her fingers tighten slightly on the braid.

"Do you remember the day I quit the Academy?" she asked. She took a deep breath, and I could hear the pain in it. The kind of pain that was buried so deep that time could never truly heal it. I swallowed hard, my heart tightening in my chest as I nodded.

I remembered it as if it had happened just yesterday. The day Sumire lost her mobility... The day everything changed. She had left the house that morning, perfectly healthy, excited even. My big sister, the one who would become a kunoichi strong enough to protect our family, our future.

But when she came back home, it wasn't the same Sumire who had left.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. The sound of her struggling footsteps as she was carried through the door. Her face pale, eyes wide and filled with terror. Her once-strong frame broken, and her spirit shattered as our mother screamed in horror. I could still feel the chill in the air that day, the way my legs had gone numb as I realized something terrible had happened. something none of us could undo.

"Your injury..." I whispered, my voice catching in my throat as I tried to suppress the flood of emotions that always came with this memory.

Sumire smiled, but it was a small, sad thing.

"I wasn't supposed to come home that day..." Sumire's voice wavered as she paused, her fingers running absentmindedly through the ends of my braid.

"Aren saved me," she finally said, her voice soft but filled with an old ache. "We were forced to battle each of our classmates... part of some twisted training exercise. I just... I wasn't strong enough to protect myself."

I froze at the mention of Aren, the name pulling me back to old memories I hadn't thought about in years. He had been one of Sumire's closest friends at the Academy, always by her side, and I remembered him as the bright, determined kid who never let anyone push him around.

"I was getting overwhelmed," Sumire continued, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of emotion. "It was like everything I had learned, everything I had trained for, just disappeared the moment we were pitted against each other. I could feel myself falling behind, my chakra running low... I couldn't keep up." She shook her head, her eyes distant as if she were reliving the memory.

It's a memory that all of us who went to the Academy in Kirigakure have. The chaos of the training ground flooded with the blood of our classmates fighting against each other in the hopes of being made Genin. Many of them desperately clinging onto a thin thread of life. My stomach twisted at the image.

"And then... there was Aren." Her voice grew quieter, almost as if she were afraid to say his name out loud. "He threw himself into the fight, right in front of me. He took on my opponents, all of them, without hesitation. He was... relentless."

Her hands stilled in my hair, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly quiet. I wanted to say something, to tell her it wasn't her fault, but the words stuck in my throat.

"Aren wasn't supposed to protect me," she said after a long silence. "We were supposed to fight together, as equals. We promised each other that as soon as we were out, we would run. Run away from it all. But in the end, he paid the price for my weakness. He fought to keep me alive, and when he couldn't fight anymore..." Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat.

I squeezed her hand gently, trying to ground her, to let her know I was here, listening.

"And even then, I barely even made it out alive."

"I was supposed to die that day, Y/N," Sumire said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Aren saved me. He gave me the chance to come home... and I regret that I never told him how I felt about him."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and I could see the pain etched into her features, the burden of unspoken emotions she had carried for so long. My heart clenched as I reached out, placing my hand over hers, trying to offer some kind of comfort.

"You were in the middle of a battle, Sumire," I whispered, my voice gentle. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

She shook her head, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "But I knew, Y/N. I knew how I felt about him even before that day. I just... I never said it. I thought we had time. I thought... I thought I'd always have him there, by my side."

"I was too scared," Sumire continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what it would mean if I said it out loud. Scared of losing him if I told him the truth. And now... now it's too late. I'll never get the chance to say the words I love you."

I squeezed her hand tightly. "You didn't lose him, Sumire. He's still with you. Aren... he cared about you too. That's why he protected you. He wouldn't want you to carry this regret."

A single tear slipped down her cheek as she looked at me, her eyes filled with a grief I could barely comprehend. "I just wish I could've told him, Y/N. Even once. I wish he knew..."

I pulled her into a tight hug, holding her as the weight of her emotions finally spilled over. "He knew, Sumire," I whispered into her hair. "I'm sure he knew."

For a long moment, we sat there in silence, wrapped in each other's embrace as the quiet of the room filled the space around us. Sumire's sobs were soft, but each one pierced through me, a reminder of the pain she had carried for so long.

"He was my everything," Sumire whispered against my shoulder, "He made me feel wanted, he made me feel heard. I try not to dwell too much but sometimes... it's hard not to think about what could have been, you know?"

"I'm so sorry for making you relive this, Sumire."

"I.. I just have so much love for him with no one to give it to," she said as I felt her solemnly smile against my skin. "I would rather talk about him than have him become a fading memory."

Sumire slowly sat up as she wiped away the last of her tears, "And that's my second cry of the day!" she chuckled.

"Second?" I questioned as I looked at her quizzically.

"It's October 14th, Y/N" Sumire muttered as she watched the realisation dawn on my face.

The day that our mother died.

Talks of peace negotiations have been echoing throughout Konoha, finally providing an end to the violence and bloodshed committed on the front lines.

Yet at the end of the day, it is all talk. Kushina sensei, Shisui and I have been dispatched to the frontlines, on the border between the Hidden Grass Village and the Land of Earth to support Minato sensei.

The chill of the night air cut through the silence as we made our way through the dense forest bordering the Hidden Grass Village. Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting pale shadows that seemed to dance with every step we took. The tension in the air was palpable, and despite the hushed murmurs of peace talks back in Konoha, the reality of war still lingered heavily around us.

"Stay alert," Kushina-sensei whispered, her voice low but steady as she led us through the rugged terrain. Her long red hair was tied back and hidden beneath her cloak. She moved with a quiet and daunting. Beside her, Shisui was a shadow, his gaze focused and vigilant.

I followed closely behind, every muscle in my body taut with anticipation. It felt surreal, being here on the frontlines after hearing so much about the rumored ceasefire.

But words alone couldn't erase the bloodshed, the pain, and the loss that had been carved into the lives of so many. Even if the negotiations succeeded, it wouldn't bring back the fallen or heal the wounds left behind.

Kushina-sensei paused, raising a hand to signal us to stop. We crouched low, and I could hear the faint murmurs of voices up ahead. Hidden by the underbrush, we peered out, our eyes narrowing as we spotted a small camp just beyond the trees. A group of Iwa-nin were huddled around a fire, their expressions grim and weary.

"Looks like they're setting up for the night," Shisui murmured, his voice barely audible. His eyes flicked to Kushina-sensei, waiting for her command.

She nodded slightly, her gaze sharp. "We'll avoid direct confrontation unless necessary. Minato's orders were clear: gather information, disrupt their operations if possible, but do not engage unless absolutely necessary."

"Understood," I whispered, gripping my kunai tightly. The cold metal against my skin grounded me, reminding me to stay focused.

We moved silently, circling around the camp with practiced precision. Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a twig underfoot sent my heart racing, but I forced myself to remain calm. This wasn't like the missions back in the village, the menial tasks or even the more dangerous ones we'd faced before. This was the reality of war, the kind that didn't care about peace talks or negotiations.

As we reached a vantage point overlooking the enemy camp, I glanced over at Shisui. His expression was unreadable, but there was a determination in his eyes that I'd come to recognize. He was ready for anything, as always.

"Y/N," Kushina-sensei's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Keep your eyes open. We're looking for anything that might indicate their plans. Supplies, maps, anything."

I nodded, steeling myself as I scanned the camp below. Every detail, no matter how small, could be crucial. But even as I focused on the task at hand, the uncertainty lingered in the back of my mind.

What did peace truly mean? And how much more blood would be spilled before we could reach it?

After gathering as much information as we could, Kushina sensei drew her hands together, her fingers dancing through a series of hand sign- a signal we agreed on prior to the mission to fall back from the enemy camp.

Her eyes locked onto ours, and with a subtle nod, she signaled for us to fall back.

We retreated silently, the forest swallowing us in its dark embrace as we slipped away from the enemy camp. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Shisui moved ahead of me, his movements swift and silent, like a shadow passing through the night. I followed closely, my senses on high alert, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig setting my nerves on edge.

Once we were a safe distance away, Kushina-sensei slowed her pace. "Good work, both of you," she whispered, her voice still hushed but filled with relief. "We need to relay this information to Minato."

Shisui nodded, his gaze steady. "It looks like they're planning to fortify their position along the border. If those supply routes are disrupted, it could delay their operations significantly."

"I think Shisui's right, from what I could see from their scrolls, they plan to dispatch more than 1000 Iwa-nin to the border. Lord Hokage said that many of our platoons are undergoing medical treatment, so we are already shinobi down. If we can stop those reinforcements from reaching the front lines, it might just give us the edge we need," I continued, glancing between Shisui and Kushina-sensei. "But we would probably have to split up."

"Splitting up divides our forces, but I would rather you weren't at the frontlines, Y/N. You're still a genin," Kushina said as her expression softened as she gazed at me. "I'll go support Minato, Shisui, Y/N do you think you could delay their operations and ambush their reinforcements?"

Shisui glanced at me, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "It's risky, but if we work together, I think we can pull it off."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "We'll do our best, Kushina-sensei. We'll buy you and Minato-sensei as much time as we can."

Kushina's gaze softened further, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. "Alright, but be careful. Both of you. Shisui, keep her safe."

"Of course, sensei," Shisui said with a reassuring smile. "We've got this."

"Anyways, enough ninja talk. Let's set up camp here, we have been travelling far too long and we should get a little bit of sleep before heading out," Kushina sensei said as she set up a small fire.

"I'll keep watch and wake you up in a few hours," Shisui said as he sat against the tree.

Kushina-sensei nodded, stifling a yawn as she pulled out a blanket. "Sounds good. We'll need to be sharp for tomorrow." She glanced over at me. "Get some rest, Y/N. You've earned it."

I hesitated, glancing at Shisui, who gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You just focus on getting some sleep."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly, setting up my blanket. I gazed up, staring up at the stars that peeked through the canopy of leaves. The soft crackles of the fire and the gentle rustling of the trees lulled me to sleep.

The rain fell in torrents, a relentless cascade that blurred the world into a wash of gray. The sun refused to show its head as the rain plunged down. I stood alone in the middle of an endless field, the tall grass whipped and flattened by the wind. The horizon stretched on endlessly, but the rain seemed to close in on all sides, a suffocating curtain that shut out the rest of the world.

October 14th... I remember this day so vividly.

"Y/N Uzumaki," a voice called out from behind me, sharp and cutting through the relentless rain like a blade. I turned, the storm's fury almost muffled as I took in the sight of the woman standing a few feet away. She was tall, her posture commanding and unyielding. Her presence was eerie, made even more so by the plain white mask that obscured her face entirely. No eyes, no mouth, just a blank, emotionless facade that hid everything beneath. The mask gleamed dully in the dim light, casting an unsettling contrast against the darkness surrounding us.

"You can call me Reaper-sama," she said, her voice resonating with an authoritative edge, yet there was a strange, almost mocking lilt to it. It sent a chill down my spine, sharper than the cold rain that continued to pour relentlessly around us. "I'm here to help you train."

I couldn't tear my gaze away from her, the rain pooling at my feet as I tried to gauge her intent, but the mask gave nothing away. She stood there, completely still, as if she had all the time in the world, as if she was waiting for something… waiting for me.

Without warning, Reaper-sama unleashed a barrage of kunai, each one slicing through the rain and grazing my skin. The sharp sting barely registered as adrenaline surged through me. My legs pushed against the mud, my heart pounding with every step as I sprinted toward the house, ignoring the burning sensation that tore through my muscles.

I vaulted up the wall, my hands scrambling against the wet surface as I hauled myself to the rooftop. Gasping for breath, I pulled myself over the edge and froze.

There, leaning against the railing, was my mother. Her long red hair, usually so vibrant, was soaked and clinging to her body. She shivered, the cold rain pricking at her pale skin, making her look smaller and more fragile than I ever remembered. Her azure eyes, the ones that used to light up any room, were dulled and tired, staring out at the storm that seemed to mirror the chaos in my chest.

"M-Mom?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper, the rain drowning out everything else.

She didn't respond, her body swaying slightly as the wind whipped around us. I took a shaky step forward, my heart pounding harder now, not from the fight, but from the overwhelming fear that something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Mom!" I called out louder, but she didn't even flinch.

"Y/N my love!" she called out, "That woman... your father has asked her to train you!"

Panic surged through my veins as I scrambled to my feet, the cold concrete tearing at my skin."Mom, get inside! That lady, she'll hurt you!" I shrieked as my feet scrambled to get to her side, tripping along the way.

But my legs felt like lead, and the ground beneath me was unforgiving, throwing me down again. The world seemed to move in slow motion, each second dragging on as I fought to stand. My cheek stung, but the pain was distant compared to the terror coursing through me.

I looked up, and my heart stopped.

Reaper-sama was already there, standing behind my mother, her white mask gleaming ominously in the rain. She held a kunai to my mother's throat, the blade pressed too close for comfort. My breath hitched as dread took hold of me.

"Y/N don't worry! Father wants me to help you train," Mom shouted as she watched me run towards her panicked.

Reaper-sama chuckled darkly, her grip tightening on the kunai. "Now then, Y/N," she said, her voice cold and mocking, "Use your blood manipulation... and save your mother."

I froze. Blood manipulation? The words echoed in my mind, foreign and terrifying. I didn't even know how to begin. My hands trembled as I stared at them, the rain washing away the blood that had been drawn by the kunai earlier. I have never consciously used my blood manipulation before. In the Academy, I never realised that my cuts and bruises healed over so quickly because of it. Now, I was shoved in a corner with only one escape.

Reaper-sama's grip tightened on the kunai as she stared at me, her white mask reflecting the cold, unrelenting rain. "You're running out of time, Y/N," she whispered, her voice cutting through the storm like a blade. Without warning, she yanked my mother back, then pushed her forward, sending her teetering over the edge of the rooftop.

"NO!" I screamed, my heart lurching in my chest as I watched in horror.

My mother's eyes widened in shock as her arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Time seemed to stop as she tumbled through the air, the rain swallowing her scream. My body acted before my mind could catch up, my feet sprinting toward the edge, my hand reaching out desperately.

The blood that trickled down my arm dripped relentlessly, as if sensing my desperation. Each drop stretched unnaturally, forming a thin, wavering rope that wrapped around my mother's body, just barely holding her in the air. My heart raced, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest.

But before I could even exhale the breath I had been holding, the blood cord burst. It dissolved into the rain, vanishing like smoke in the storm. Helpless, I watched my mother slip from my grasp, falling through the downpour with a sickening finality. Right at my fingertips.

My scream tore through the rain as the impact of her death hit me. The sound of her body hitting the ground below echoed through the empty street, drowning out even the rain. Her eyes pried open. Her mouth desperately tried to cling to air around her to breathe. Arterial blood stained the concrete below, trickling into every crack and crevice in the road.

A pair of arms wrapped around my small figure as I grasped onto Reaper-sama's arms, her words drowned out by my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I wanted to pull away, to scream, but my body felt heavy and numb. Her voice was soothing, too calm for what had just happened.

"Come with me, Y/N," she murmured, her tone almost hypnotic. "You'll be stronger, you'll never have to feel this helpless again. I'll teach you to control your blood, to save those you love."

My eyes were still fixated on the spot where my mother had fallen, her lifeless body lying far below. The rain continued to pour, relentless, washing away the blood that had failed to save her. My breath hitched, my vision blurring between tears and rain.

"Come," Reaper-sama said, her voice commanding yet gentle. And despite every instinct telling me to run, I found myself nodding.

I jolted awake, my heart racing, and sweat clinging to my forehead. The remnants of the nightmare clung to my mind like a dense fog. My hands trembled as I sat up, cracking my knuckles.

That nightmare. I hadn't dreamt of that day in months. But tonight, it returned with a vengeance, as vivid as ever. My pulse throbbed in my ears, and I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to steady my breath.

'Please forgive me, Mother' I pleaded as I gazed up at the night sky.

"Can't sleep?" Kushina asked, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up from her sleeping bag.

"Sorry for waking you up," I whispered as a pink twinge of embarrassment dusted my cheeks.

"You were cracking your knuckles so much I was worried you might start breaking your fingers, you know. Is it a nervous habit?"

"I guess so," I muttered sheepishly, twirling a strand of hair in between my fingers.

"Come here," she whispered, opening her sleeping bag, patting the empty space next to her. Hesitant, I stared at her quizzically, confused at her foreign gesture. Usually, when my mind swallows me from the inside out, I do what Sumire always did with me; play with my hair.

I shuffled towards her bag, slipping and stepping over the broken twigs and bark around the campfire as I laid next to her on the bag. "Your hair has gotten longer since you've arrived in Konoha, you know," she whispered, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

"Wait," Kushina muttered, pulling out a hair clip from her hair as she clipped my loose strand, "Sleep tight, Y/N."

The soft strokes of her hand against the back of my head slowly lulled me to sleep as I laid in her arms, swallowing the scent of her warmth, the cracking and the crackles of the fire gradually dying down into the early hours of the morning.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Love is a curse.

Anyways, I am on exam leave (again) which means I have to channel out the demons inside of me which scream to write, write and write. I can't wait for this academic year to be over. I don't know why 17 year old me thought I wouldn't be academically challenged by choosing an academically challenging degree (lets be honest all degrees are challenging). I have said the word challenging too much.

But we're getting there! We're hitting plot arc no 1. Thank you for all your support so far! It means so much to me and little me who never thought she'd gather up the confidence to post her little drabbles and thoughts.

Love, Suri

[bl00dalchemist]

He will warm up to you eventually.