✮ stepdaddy!toji can't get enough of you. cw: stepcest
stepdaddy!toji didn't plan on getting married at all. he had zero desire to deal with responsibility and all that bullshit, but he figured his kid needed a mother figure. so he met a woman who worked in some boring office, no spark or passion happened, and he didn't even expect it. he just wanted to make sure his boy didn't grow up lonely.
stepdaddy!toji who didn't even blink when she said she had a daughter but would do whatever it took to make sure you wouldn't cause a problem, 'cause apparently you were a total brat who rebelled against her on purpose and all that shit. he just grunted and nodded, thinking you were the same age as his son.
stepdaddy!toji didn't even set eyes on you until he and your mom got hitched, 'cause you kept running away from home and this time your mom just kicked you out. when you guys first met, you were wearing these crazy short lounge shorts with your hair all messy. well, you were way older than his son. you licked your ice cream and looked at him with those doe eyes. "so, you're my new daddy now?" he checked you out from head to toe, letting his gaze linger on those hips. "guess so. and did you have a lot of new ones?" "enough to know you won't last long here." well, that did something to his cock.
stepdaddy!toji saw with his own eyes that you weren't some bratty, hopeless kid like your mom described. you just didn't agree with her and tried to prove her wrong, and she got pissed every single time, telling you she wasted her youth on you. he just cut the argument short, stroking your hair and telling your mom to stop being such a bitch.
stepdaddy!toji couldn't tear his eyes away when you walked around the house in just panties and a sheer white top after another fight just to spite your mom, with your nipples peeking through. you never gave any blunt hints, but the way you stared at his biceps every time he reached for the salt on the table, or at his huge cock when he wore gray sweatpants, spoke for itself.
stepdaddy!toji walked into your room one day while you were out to swipe your panties and sniff 'em while he jerked off, but he found something way more interesting. your laptop stayed open with a chat with your friend on the screen. he was just about to blow it off when he saw his name.
→ idk girl, it sounds gross but if you saw him you'd wanna fuck him too
i mean, you got a shitty mom who's been terrorizing you since you were a kid, he didn't raise you, he didn't change your diapers, so why the hell not? if the dick's worth it lol ←
→ it's huge, i'm sure he'd just rip me apart. i have to imagine him instead of my dildo, though he's definitely like three times bigger
stepdaddy!toji decides to shower with you the next morning, making you let out a scream. "what are you doing in here?" and you try to cover yourself up, but he just laughs. "giving you exactly what you want." he starts stripping and you stare at his massive biceps, his rock-solid chest and abs, then your eyes trail down and see the happy trail leading to a huge, hang-hard cock that was already standing tall. your mouth hung open while he sat down on the edge. "get over here, baby." one second you stopped hiding yourself, and the next you were bouncing on his cock, and he was deep inside you, ripping you apart.
his hands are glued to your ass, guiding your rhythm, squeezing and spreading you open on his cock. every time you slide down, you feel him hit that spot deep inside. "nngh! yes! yes! so good—" he leans forward and captures your nipple between his lips, suckling hard, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak. "you were made to take my cock." you gasp when he bites down gently, then soothes the ache with his tongue. "mmnn— my little girl’s got the sweetest tits, huh? gonna suck 'em dry." your hips start to slow — you're exhausted, your muscles screaming — but he won't let you stop. his hands grip your waist and start bouncing you on his cock, fucking up into you with brutal precision. your head falls back, mouth open, letting out a long, guttural moan. "you like that, baby? you like your daddy using you like this?" "yes! yes— please nngh! don't stop—" "that's it, baby. cum for daddy. cum all over my cock."
stepdaddy!toji gets addicted to you right away. he turns fucking you every morning into a tradition. he's already hard when he pushes your door open, already stroking himself through his boxers by the time he's kneeling on the mattress, dragging the sheets off your sleeping body. "mornin', little girl." you stir, blinking up at him. his cock is already out, thick and heavy, the head brushing against your thigh. "...it's so early..." "shhh." he pulls your panties down your legs. "daddy needs his breakfast." he rolls you onto your stomach first, because he likes watching the way your back arches when he pushes inside from behind. his chest presses against your spine, his mouth at your ear. "been dreamin' about this pussy all night, baby. you know that? can't sleep proper without knowin' i'm gonna be inside you the second i wake up." "nngh! daddy—! so good..."
stepdaddy!toji uses your tits like a pacifier. it started as something innocent — him suckling gently while you watched tv — but now it's a full-blown ritual. his hands find your shirt, push it up. your bra follows. he groans the second your nipples are bare, leaning down to take one into his mouth. "toji—" "shhh." he sucks hard, tongue circling the sensitive peak. "just let daddy have this."
his eyes are half-closed. he is latched on, suckling slow and steady. his hand cups your other breast, thumb stroking over the nipple. "one day," he murmurs against your skin, "gonna put a baby in you. gonna fill you up so good. and then these tits..." he takes the nipple between his teeth, tugs gently. "gonna be full of milk for me. gonna drink it straight from the source, baby." you whimper, and he suckles harder, his hand sliding down between your legs. "and you'll let me, won't you? let daddy drink it whenever he wants. let me fall asleep right here, with your nipple in my mouth and my cum drippin' out of your tight little pussy." he does fall asleep like that, sometimes. your nipple still between his lips, your hand stroking his hair. and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, hard and aching, he slides inside you without a word, still half-asleep, still sucking your breast.
stepdaddy!toji loves making you squirt just to prove he is way better than guys your own age. he's on his knees between your legs, and he's been down there for god knows how long. your thighs are shaking, you're soaked, and he shows no signs of stopping. "i know you got it in you, baby." his fingers curl inside you, pressing against your front wall. "give it to daddy. give me that." "daddy, i can't—mnngh! i can't, it's too much—" "you can. you will." his mouth closes over your clit, sucks hard while his fingers pump faster. "c'mon, my baby. let go for me. let me see it." your body locks up. every muscle goes tight. and then it releases — a gush of fluid that soaks his hand, his chin, the towel he'd laid down beneath you. "there she is. there's my good fuckin' girl." he doesn't stop. he keeps fingering you through it, keeps sucking your clit until you're screaming, until you're pushing at his head because you can't take anymore. "one more, little girl. give me one more."
stepdaddy!toji who treats your pussy like a living thing. he talks to it, kisses it, worships it. he pushes your thighs up to your chest and groans at the sight of you. "mm, she's wet for me. of course she is. she knows who she belongs to." "look at my girl. missed me, didn't she?" he's talking to your pussy, and he means it. he leans in, presses his open mouth against your folds like a kiss. "fuck, i missed you too, pretty girl." he makes out with it. that's the only way to describe it — his tongue sliding between your lips, pressing inside, then pulling out to suck your clit into his mouth. "daddy's girl's got the sweetest fuckin' pussy in the world. you know that?" he presses his nose against your clit, inhales deep. "can't get enough." "ha— mmnh!!— daddy! i'm gonna—!" "come in my mouth, baby." you cum again from his tongue alone, and he moans through it, smiling against your pussy. when you try to pull away from the oversensitivity, he grabs your hips and yanks you back. "i'm not done. daddy's never done with this pretty pussy."
stepdaddy!toji doesn't give a fuck if someone can catch you guys, if he wanted to fuck you, nothing was gonna stop him. "someone will see—" "let 'em." he pulls you over the center console, guides you onto his lap. your back presses against his chest, the steering wheel digging into your knees. his cock slides into you from behind, and you choke on a moan. "shhh, baby. gotta be quiet." but he's already thrusting up into you, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped around your throat. "look how good you take my cock." a woman walks past with a shopping cart. you freeze, but he keeps moving, keeps fucking up into you slow and deep. "look at her. she got no idea you're gettin' stuffed full of my cock right now." "fuck— daddy! —nngh!" "that's it. let 'em hear. let 'em know who you belong to." sunlight floods the car, and anyone glancing over would see two silhouettes. he comes inside you with a grunt, holding your hips down, filling you up while a minivan parks three spaces away.
stepdaddy!toji who tells your mom he needs to spend more time with you to get to know his stepdaughter better, so he heads to the mall with you. he fucks you in the first dressing room he finds. you're on his lap, your back against his chest, the flimsy curtain doing nothing to muffle your sounds. his cock is buried deep, and he's holding you still while the saleslady asks through the curtain if everything fits okay. "just fine," he calls out, voice steady. his hips thrust up. "my girl's just trying things on." you bite your lip so hard you taste blood. his hand covers your mouth. "shhh, my baby. don't wanna get caught, do you?" but he's fucking up into you harder, faster. the cheap stool beneath you creaks. "nngh! mmn—!" "what was that?" he pulls his hand away. "you got something to say, little girl?" "daddy! — fuck... i'm gonna!—" "gonna come? right here? with your mama thinkin' we're just havin' a nice afternoon?" you nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "then do it, baby. come on daddy's cock. let 'em all hear who makes you feel this good." you come with a broken cry, and he follows right after.
stepdaddy!toji finally gets to fuck you everywhere after the divorce, without hiding or trying to muffle your sweet sounds. he bends you over the thick upholstered arm, your toes barely touching the floor, ass arched high. he pushes in slow, watching his cock disappear into your tight little pussy inch by inch. the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy fills the room. "you hear that, baby? listen to how wet you are for me. this pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?" "y-yes, daddy! it's you— ah!— all yours!" or when he folds you in half, knees pressed against your shoulders, your ankles hooked over his biceps. he looms over you, watching his own cock slide in and out of your gaping hole. he fucks you deep and slow, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust until you're a writhing mess beneath him. "look at you little girl, taking every inch. you love being stuffed full of this cock, don't you?" "yes! daddy— mmnh!— yes, i love it, i love it!"
stepdaddy!toji who loves it when you warm up his dick. he's sitting on the couch, watching tv, and you're in his lap, facing him, his cock buried deep inside your pussy. you're both fully dressed except for where your panties are pushed aside and his zipper is down. "just sit still, little girl. keep me warm." you try to stay quiet, but every small movement makes you clench around him, and you can feel him twitch inside you. your thighs are shaking, your pussy pulsing, and you're so wet you can feel yourself dripping down onto his lap. "please— i need you to move—" you can feel him twitch inside you, feel him get harder even though he's not moving. his thumb traces lazy circles on your hip. "one day," he murmurs, "gonna keep you on my cock all day long. gonna carry you around the house like this. make you breakfast with my dick still buried in you." you clench around him involuntarily, and he groans. "fuck, yeah. squeeze daddy just like that."
stepdaddy!toji who couldn't see you for a whole week because of all the divorce drama. and when you finally show up at his place, he doesn't even take your clothes off all the way. just pushes your skirt up, rips your panties aside, and sinks into you with a groan that sounds like relief. "fuck! fuck— i needed this. i needed you, baby." your back hits the wall, your legs wrap around his waist. he's holding you up, fucking you standing, your weight suspended on his cock. "never again. never gonna go a week without this pussy again. you hear me?" "yes— mmh! daddy— yes!" "now i can have you whenever i want. wherever i want." he carries you across the room, still inside you, fucks you against every surface he can reach. the counter. the couch. the floor. "gonna make up for lost time. gonna spend the whole weekend buried inside my little girl."
stepdada!kuna ? amazing art from @ dickerystuf on ig / x
warning ladies !! do not spit in gojo’s mouth unless you’re ready for him to nut instantly!
“c’mon baby,” he whines, voice all breathy and cocky, his blue eyes sparkling looking greedy. “i’ve been good. spit in my mouth, please?”
you laugh, because this six-foot-whatever menace who can literally warp reality is pouting like a brat because he wants your spit.
“you’re so fucking weird, toru.”
“you are weird,” he corrects instantly, tongue already poking out a little. “now c’mon.... i’m dying here. my dick’s so hard it’s bout to file a complaint.”
you roll your eyes but lean in anyway, gripping his jaw with one hand, thumb pressing into the soft skin just under his bottom lip. he opens wider, eyes half-lidded, that signature gojo smirk twitching at the corners because he knows exactly how nasty this is.
you gather it slow on purpose, letting him watch, then spit directly onto his waiting tongue. thick, warm, right in the center.
the sound he makes is downright criminal. a broken little moan-groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours.
“fuck— again,” he gasps, “do it again. spit like you mean it.”
you do it again, messier this time, letting some of it miss and drip down his chin. he doesn’t even wipe it. just lets it slide while his eyes roll back.
“you’re actually getting off on this, huh?” you tease, grinding down slow on the massive bulge straining against the fabric. “big bad strongest and all it takes is a little spit to make you stupid?”
“shut up and degrade me properly,” he whines, but he’s grinning like an idiot, tongue still out. “call me a nasty little slut or sum. i’m literally leaking for you right now.”
you laugh again, i mean you can’t help it. before you do the request, you reach down and shove his sweats just low enough to free him. he’s flushed dark at the tip, already dripping down the shaft.
“open wider, pretty boy.”
he obeys instantly, loving every second of being absolutely humiliated by you.
you spit again, then lean down and lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue while you sink down onto his cock.
satoru’s whole body shudders. he moans into your mouth, hands scrambling on your hips, already babbling.
“more!! fuck— spit on me while you ride me. please baby i’ll do anything. i’ll buy you a country. i’ll cancel infinity for the rest of the night. just keep spitting in my fucking mouth—”
you loop your arms around sae’s neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. he huffs. “i can’t just always carry you around.” yet as he speaks, his hooks his elbows under your knees anyway, allowing you to piggyback him.
“you say that, yet i’m here on your back anyway.” you grin, now burying your face into his shoulder. a few passerby stare, some grinning, some whispering. “hey, are people looking? i feel stares.”
“no shit. it’s not every day that you just casually see a celebrity on the streets.” sae retorts, although he knew that in reality, most whispers contains the words “young love” buried among sentences of jealousy and excitement.
“mmmm,” you yawn. “i’m tired, and hungry.”
“great. let’s go eat then.” sae begins to turn towards the direction of a nearby bakery, treating your weight on his back like a feather.
you definitely doze ofc on his back; you didn’t respond to his comments or insults.
cute.
at the bakery, while you’re half-asleep on his back, he orders some of your favorite pastries. “20 of these.” the cashier looks at him with wide eyes. sae ignores her, placing you down in a chair gently and sitting across you.
“…huh?” when you woke up, you were met with a variety of colorful pastries, no longer clinging to sae’s warmth. “oh, wow. this is a sight i’d like to wake up to every day.”
noted.
“just hurry up and eat, you lukewarm idiot.”
you shove a few baked goods into your mouth. sae rolls his eyes, grabbing a napkin and dabbing near your mouth. “thanks, sae. you’re always looking out for me. this is why you’re my best friend.”
his heart drops a bit when he hears his title.
but that was fine. if it means staying close to you, he doesn’t mind the status.
he’ll just make sure that no one else gets close to you.
Sukuna, the most feared King of Curses...is clingy when he's sleepy.
“Baby…”
Ryomen Sukuna, ancient King of Curses, calamity made flesh, feared across eras, a being whose hands could split bone and soul alike without effort—is whining. Like a child. And for you.
He lays sprawled across the futon beneath layers of blankets you had insisted on piling over him. (You didn’t need them, not really, but you know he dislikes the chill even if he scoffs at it.)
Your stirring must have pulled him from sleep; eyes half-lidded and heavy with thick lashes, hair mussed, curse markings faint but visible where skin meets collarbone, glowing softly in the early light. He’s an image you want to commit to memory, though you doubt he’d tolerate being admired for long without pulling you back in.
“What?” you tease, slipping his discarded robe over your very naked torso. You catch glimpses of bruises between your thighs and along the curve of your breasts, reminders of how he had spent hours the night before looming over you, drawing sighs and broken moans from your lips, his weight and presence overwhelming in the way only Sukuna can manage. He had promised to take his time...and, for once, he had.
“Back to bed,” he mutters, sinking deeper into the pillows. His voice is rough, low, still thick with sleep, and you hate how much you love it. One hand drapes over his face. “Too early.”
“Gimme a second.” You stand and shuffle toward the bathroom, stepping over scattered clothes and torn lace. “Gotta pee.”
You take maybe two minutes longer than necessary—brushing your teeth, splashing water on your face, briefly debating a shower before your responsibilities drag you back to reality.
In those 120 seconds, Sukuna apparently decides that being away from you is unacceptable. Just as you reach for the shower handle, his presence fills the space behind you, arms sliding around your waist, solid and possessive.
“Thought you said a second,” he rumbles into your shoulder, swaying you lazily side to side, as if the world can wait.
“My toothpaste is clearly plotting against you,” you say, lifting a hand to his hair. “Cap fought back.”
“Tch.” He’s smiling against your skin, a quiet, breathy laugh slipping out despite himself.
“You wanna shower with me?” you ask, turning the water on. His grip tightens immediately.
“Wanna go back to bed,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder once, twice, three times, a low hum vibrating against you. “Cuddle you. Keep you where you belong…”
You catch the hand inching lower, stopping it firmly.
“You could do that in the shower too.”
“I could,” he admits, pressing his forehead into your neck. “But there’s somethin’ about havin’ you in my bed. Pinning you down. Reminding you who you’re mine to—”
Your breath stutters. He notices.
“It is—” you twist just enough to glimpse the clock through the cracked door— “9:37. Much too early.”
“Hmph. Never stopped you before.”
“Maybe not,” you say, clearing your throat. “But I have things to do today. And you don’t exactly believe in moderation.”
“I can behave,” he says, voice dragging, almost pleading—so unlike the tyrant he usually is. “Just once. Promise.”
He’s wearing you down—his warmth, the strength in his arms, the way his voice drops when he wants something.
“I don’t know,” you say, already decided, enjoying this far too much. “Maybe if you get on your knees and beg?”
You’re joking. Mostly.
Sukuna doesn’t hesitate.
He spins you around and lowers himself without complaint, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in possessively. His eyes are dark, curse markings more pronounced now, a reminder of what and who he is.
Once, those eyes had held nothing but violence and hunger for destruction.
Now, when he looks at you, there’s devotion twisted with desire, dominance balanced carefully with something almost tender.
He exhales, breath warm against your stomach, lips brushing your skin.
Then he looks up at you, a wicked glint in those eyes.
"Please?"
How could you ever resist?
likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! x thanks for reading.
“baby, c’mere” higuruma sighs as he flops back onto the bed, tie already loosened and shirt half-unbuttoned, his sharp eyes heavy with exhaustion from another grueling day in court.
“been thinkin’ about this all damn day. need you to sit on my face right now. just do it for me, yeah?”
you blink, cheeks heating up, but you can’t resist the way he looks at you, the way his big hands already reach for you, pulling you closer.
“romi… you sure? you look so tired—”
“tired of everything but you, baby,” he cuts in, voice low and rough, guiding you up to straddle his chest. “c’mon, don’t hover. sit all the way down. i don’t care if i can’t breathe- sit on it.”
you whimper softly, your heart racing as you shimmy out of your pink laced panties, your pretty folds already slick and aching just from his words.
he groans at the sight, his cock twitching hard in his slacks, and he wastes no time yanking you forward until your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth.
his big nose brushes your clit first, sending a jolt through you, and then his tongue dives in— wet and hungry.
“oh god— hiromi!” you gasp, thighs trembling as you lower yourself fully, grinding down onto his face like he demanded.
his nose presses firm against your swollen clit, rubbing with every desperate lap of his tongue, while his lips seal around your hole, sucking hungry and deep. it’s like he’s making out with your pussy at this point.
he eats you like a man starved, tongue thrusting inside your fluttering walls, slurping up your creamy mess with obscene, wet smacks that echo in the room.
“fuck, that’s it… ride my face, doll,” he mumbles against your sopping pussy, voice muffled but vibrating right through you, his hands gripping your ass hard to pull you even tighter.
one hand slips down to free his thick cock from his pants, stroking himself roughly— slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of your hips as you buck and grind, chasing the building heat.
“mmpph— feels so goood… your tongue— haaah!” you moan, needy and breathless, fingers tangling in his hair as you rock harder, coating his chin and cheeks in your slick.
his nose nudges your clit perfectly, sending sparks up your spine, and he doesn’t let up, tongue fucking you deeper, nose grinding messy circles that make your eyes cross.
higuruma jerks his cock harder, pre cum leaking over his knuckles, groaning into your cunt as your walls clench around his tongue. “so wet for me, baby… taste so fuckin’ good. gonna make you cum all over my face— keep goin’”
you sob out a broken “y-yes...! don’t stop—please!” as your orgasm crashes over you, needy cunt gushing messily onto his tongue, thighs shaking wildly.
he laps it all up, greedy and nasty, his strokes on his cock turning frantic until he spills hot ropes over his fist with a muffled growl against your folds.
but when you try to lift off, legs twitching and quivering, his arms lock around your thighs like iron, pulling you right back down.
“where do you think you’re going, hm?” he murmurs, voice hoarse and rough, licking his lips slow and deliberate. “i’m not done. told you- worst fucking day. be good and sit back down. let me eat this sweet pussy till i forget everything but how you taste.”
"s-satoru," you whisper, voice trembling. "can you move just a little bit..please?"
unlatching his lips from your tit with a lewd pop, satoru lets out a soft chuckle.
"no can do, bunny." he hums, pressing an maddening gentle kiss to your temple. "I'll get carried away. you don't want that, right?"
sniffling, you nod against him, even though its a lie. every year it's the same 'no nut november' competition with suguru, and every year, satoru loses within a week--to you, sinking himself balls deep into your cunt before he even could think twice.
but gojo soon realized his losing streak was growing detrimental to both his bragging rights and his wallet. so this year, he made up his mind. he was going to last all month long.
yet, it's day six and you’re tangled up with him on the bed, perched on his fat cock, sticky undies pulled carelessly to the side as he suckles on your pretty nipples. he technically wasn't cheating; the rule was that he couldn't nut--suguru never said anything about cockwarming.
"you're being mean," you breath, back arching into his mouth as he sucks on your sensitive nipple, cunt smearing an obscene amount of slick and cum all over his stubbly pelvis. your freshly-manicured nails tangle in his white mop of hair. "i jus' w-wanna make you feel good."
gojo exhales a small laugh through his nose, you were always so precious thinking about him. "I know baby, but I already told you. I can't lose to suguru again. not this year."
you roll your hips harder, sloppier in response, your ass smacking against his chubby balls with loud plaps. "I-I don't care about the stupid bet," you insist, a wet pout forming as you tilt your head up to meet his eyes.
"can't wait a month for your cum daddy."
satoru swallows hard.
"c'mon..don't say it like that baby." he groans, and you can't tell if he's talking about your vulgar language or the fact that you just called him daddy. either way he could feel his resolve slipping.
he should pull you off of him while he was still thinking straight--before he did something he might regret. but you were squeezing so tight around his lonely cock, and somehow you smelled so much sweeter than normal..how was he supposed to go without your pussy for three more weeks?
stray hands make their way to your hips, clinging on as your grind him for dear life. you were relentless with his body, with every one of your clumsily bounces, his thick tip smushed up into your spongy cervix. his mouth was far from your chest now, drooling stupidly as he watched from beneath. when had he taught you to ride like this?
"please, toru" you whine, softer this time, humping his lap with tiny grunts. "need you so bad." grabbing his shaky pale hands from your waist, you kiss them each, before setting them flush on your pudgy tummy, directly over your heart-shaped womb. "I wanna feel you, here."
gosh. satoru could feel his heart swell three times its size. with your big wobbly eyes and warm runny nose, you were just too sweet for your own good. now, he's forgotten all about the bet--he wants nothing more than to paint your velvety insides white with his creamy ribbons.
"shit, bunny." he rasps, pressing hot peppery open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone and tits while he left his hands on your womb. he wonder what it would feel like after being stuffed up with all his cum.
"y'er right, fuck the bet. got more important things to do." he thrusts up without warning, causing your swollen tits to bounce, earning a half excited-half nervous squeal from you in return.
"sugu's just gonna hafta understand," he drawls, flipping you on your back with one smooth motion. "gotta fill this sweet pussy right--fucking--now"
Watching Sukuna slice fruit with his technique, a thought came to you.
"Hey," you say, catching his attention as you bite into some apple, "If you could have anynother technique except your own, what would it be?"
Plucking some grapes from their stem and eating them, Sukuna mulls your question over with complete seriousness. He hums, gripping his chin.
"By 'any', I assume we're talking about known techniques?"
Shrugging, "I suppose we can go with that," you say, grabbing another slice. "If we made up techniques we'd probably come up with something ridiculous and OP."
Glancing at his fingers, Sukuna Cleaves a melon in half.
"I suppose I'd go with Blood Manipulation. Out of all of them, it's the most similar to my own."
You raise a brow. "Not Ten Shadows or Infinity?"
"Ten Shadows Technique is extremely powerful... but if I lost one of the shikigami, then it's gone forever." He explains, squishing a berry for emphasis, licking the juices from his digits. "And while Infinity would make me virtually invincible, it's not very... exciting."
"But what about those blasts? The last Infinity user we fought decimated a large portion of field."
Sukuna just sniffs. "Big blasts of energy don't fit my fighting style." Was all he said. Then: "Now, what about you?"
You think about it, tapping your lip in thought. "I suppose... hmm."
Your husband watches you squint, really thinking about it.
♡ Synopsis: in which your ex boyfriend left you with your biggest blessing in life, or- a bundle of a blessing. And he doesn’t even know it.
♡ tags/warnings: 18+, (explicit content in later chapters) angst, and drama, exes to lovers, hidden baby trope, Toji is an asshole (but we love him), Reader just wants to raise Megumi in peace, CEO Toji, possessive Toji, emotionally constipated Toji, Tension, misunderstandings, Flashbacks to past relationship, Heavy themes of abandonment, trust issues, and redemption, baby Megumi is a cutie, Megumi is a mama’s boy, reader works at a flower shop, Hidden Baby Trope
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Toji’s never been a man of many words.
Always the quiet one, sharp green eyes constantly assessing his surroundings, his mind always calculating before he ever bothers to speak.
A trait he inherited from his no good father.
But somehow today, you’ve rendered him completely mute.
Minutes slip by in tense silence, each one dragging heavier than the last. You wonder if he even heard you. Your admission that you did try to tell him about your son, but you gave up.
The two of you are still sitting on your couch, the soft lamplight pooling around you, and his head is bowed, dark hair falling forward to shield his eyes.
You see through him anyway.
His hands are rigid around your baby book, his knuckles white, the leather-bound cover bending slightly under his grip. You had his baby almost six years ago. You wanted to tell him. You tried to tell him.
But he never gave you the chance.
You gave up on him. And the bitter truth is, it was all his fault.
And yet, to your shock, you realize you’re not the only one who’s emotional.
Toji Zenin, the man who’s painted as a ruthless, cold-blooded bastard in every tabloid and headline, has tears running silently down his face.
You notice the glint of one sliding down his cheek and falling into his lap, just barely missing the photo album in his hands. He subtly shifts it out of harm’s way, and that small, almost instinctive motion nearly breaks you.
“Shit, Y/N.” His voice finally cuts through the silence, hoarse and raw. The shaky breath he exhales makes your heart clench; it sounds like something heavy is cracking inside him.
“I didn’t invite you here to make you cry,” you murmur softly, tension threading your voice.
The sight of him like this, unraveled sets off every instinct to reach for him, to touch his hand or shoulder and offer comfort. But your mind holds you back.
You’re confused.
You thought you’d be angrier than this.
And maybe you will be later. You always imagined, in your loneliest nights, that you’d feel some grim satisfaction watching him regret everything, that you’d relish the weight of guilt finally pressing on him.
But you don’t.
Instead, watching him like this, a man who’s always been untouchable, now so visibly shaken makes your throat tighten with a lump you can’t swallow down.
When he reopens the book, it surprises you.
He turns each page slowly, like he’s afraid of missing something, and his hand stills on one in particular.
It’s a photo of you and Megumi on his first birthday: a tiny cake frosted in uneven baby blue buttercream, scattered with star-shaped sprinkles and a single lit candle. You’re more dressed up than usual, a touch of makeup softening your tired features. Megumi, just a little bigger than in the earlier photos, is achingly sweet in a navy blue romper, cheeks round and flushed.
Beneath the picture, in your careful handwriting, are the words:
“It’s your first birthday, Megumi! Mommy made this cake for you. The icing isn’t perfect, but I’m sure I’ll get it right next year! I love you. You’re my biggest blessing in this life. – Mommy.”
Toji stares at that picture for what feels like forever, his expression unreadable but his silence deafening. And then, you see it. The sharp crack in his composure. The way his eyes flicker with something heavy, suffocating.
He notices what’s missing in an instant: there’s no one else there. No friends. No family. No him.
It’s just you and Megumi, alone in this tiny apartment,
Yet you still decorated the table, baked a cake he couldn’t even eat yet, and set your phone on a timer to capture these memories by yourself.
Something inside Toji caves.
Regret doesn’t come close to describing the feeling twisting violently in his gut. Is there a word for this? For the kind of pain that feels like it’s eating him alive from the inside out? Maybe it’s self-loathing. Maybe it’s worse.
Whatever it is, it makes him feel small. Pathetic.
He’s an idiot.
An egotistical, stupid, selfish, blind idiot.
And he's well aware that all of this, every second of this pain, is his own doing.
“Toji.” His name leaves your lips in a voice so soft it nearly breaks him in two.
He finally tears his gaze from the book to look at you. And in that moment, you’re taken aback. His eyes are greener when he cries, impossibly vivid, like shards of sea glass catching the light.
You force yourself to look away, lowering your head, your fingers absently picking at nonexistent lint on your sweater.
“He’s five now” you murmur, your voice soft as if the words themselves are fragile. “Turns six next week.”
Your fingers twist together in your lap, knuckles white. “He, um… has been asking about you. And like I told you, since I ran into Suguru and he gave me your number, I’d been holding back. I think I was scared. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I finally could, I don’t even know why but-”
“Y/N.”
His voice cuts through your rambling, low but firm.
Toji shuts the book with a quiet thud, the sound heavier than it should be, and leans forward, elbows on his knees. His hands drag down his face as he exhales a deep, shaky sigh, fingers momentarily hiding his expression.
“None of this… is your fault,” he says at last, voice low and rough, like gravel scraping together.
“It’s mine. Fuck, this is all on me. Don’t apologize to me. Ever.” The words are sharp, almost biting, like he’s scolding you for even daring to take on his guilt.
If the mood weren’t so heavy, you might’ve laughed.
That was always Toji, ready to fight your battles even against yourself.
Back then, he’d get mad at you whenever you’d say sorry too quickly, whenever you’d shrink back in some pointless argument or let someone walk all over you. “You’re too soft,” he used to tell you, like it was a bad thing. Maybe it was.
You nod quietly, your heart pounding, your mind a haze of disbelief. He’s sitting right next to you.
After all these years, after everything, this man who once felt like your entire world now feels like a ghost, flesh and bone but belonging to another life, dragged reluctantly into your present.
Toji’s gaze shifts, no longer fixed on you but drifting toward the far corner of your cozy living room.
His sharp green eyes land on the Christmas tree, strung with soft yellow lights and flickering rainbow ones, ornaments dangling in a chaotic but charming mix.
Some clearly old, carried over from your childhood, each placed with care. At the base, a small pile of gifts rests, wrapped in bright paper with cartoon reindeer, their cheerful design almost mocking the heaviness of the moment.
“When’s his birthday?” Toji asks suddenly, his voice flat, detached, like he’s speaking through fog. His eyes stay locked on the tree.
You blink, startled by the abrupt question. “December twenty-second” you answer softly. “Almost a Christmas baby.”
The corner of your mouth curves up in a small, watery smile. “It’s tricky around this time. I always have to separate his birthday and Christmas presents.” Your attempt at lightness falls flat; Toji doesn’t react, his expression unmoved, still staring at the tree.
Your brow furrows. Toji’s always been indifferent about Christmas, never cared much for birthdays either - his own was too close to the holiday for him to bother celebrating.
So why does he look like this now?
Your eyes follow his line of sight, scanning the tree. And then you see it.
There, catching the glow of the lights, is a single ornament that stands out from the rest: a delicate crystal heart, its surface refracting warm yellows and soft rainbows as it sways slightly on a silver string.
It’s beautiful, clearly more expensive than anything else on the tree. But that’s not why he’s staring.
It’s because he gave it to you. Years ago.
You tense, gaze snapping away from the ornament as if it burned you.
You don’t even know why you keep putting it up every Christmas. Some sentimental streak you’ve never had the courage to shake. Maybe it’s pathetic, clinging to a piece of him like that.
And now that he’s noticed, the weight of that choice sinks heavy in your chest, heat creeping up your neck. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but damn it - you do.
You feel the need to change the subject before it could even begin.
“Toji, I have to ask” you start, voice shaking, terrified you’ll shatter whatever fragile calm lingers between you.
He looks at you then. Really looks. The weight of his gaze alone knots your stomach tighter, and your words falter.
“I still don’t… I never knew why you - you know, left. And I don’t really need to know anymore. It’s ancient history now.” You pause, swallowing hard.
“But I need to know if you want to be in Megumi’s life. I could live with you leaving me, but…” You can’t look at him, can’t bear to see whatever’s written on his face. Your eyes stay fixed on your lap.
“But please… you can’t do that to Megumi.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft enough that he’d have to strain to catch it.
The silence that follows feels endless, suffocating. You let out a shaky, pained breath.
“I-it’s okay if you want nothing to do with us. Please just… tell me now. You don’t even have to meet him. I can let him down gently.” You say, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater, scared to look directly at him.
Toji stays quiet for a long time. Long enough that the silence between you becomes unbearable, stretching taut like a wire you’re afraid might snap.
You risk a glance at him, and he’s just… staring. Not at you, not really. His emerald gaze is fixed somewhere beyond you, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he exhales through his nose, a sound halfway between a sigh and a scoff.
“You really think I’d bail on my own kid?” His voice is low, rough around the edges. He leans back against the couch, dragging a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to piece together what the hell he’s supposed to say. “I get it, I ain’t exactly got the best track record. But I ain’t that much of a piece of shit.”
Your heart stutters at that. You want to respond, but your throat feels tight, the words stuck somewhere in your chest.
Toji glances at you now, and the weight of his attention makes you shrink a little. But there’s something softer in his eyes. Something you can’t quite name.
“I didn’t leave ‘cause of you. Or him. Hell, I didn’t even know about him” he says, voice quieter now, almost grudging. “You…I was just an idiot, I wish Suguru told me sooner.”
You flinch, shame pricking at your chest. “I-”
“I’m not mad,” he cuts you off, tone more even. “I just… missed a lot of time I can’t get back.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes flicking toward the ornament still hanging on the tree. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere now. If Megumi wants me around, I’ll be there.”
There’s a heaviness to his words, not a threat but a promise. The kind of promise Toji Zenin doesn’t make lightly.
“...You sure?” you ask, voice trembling.
He huffs a laugh, low and humorless. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
When he finally looks back at you, really looks, his expression softens by just a fraction. “I fucked up” he says quietly, the words almost strangled. “I don’t know if I could ever make it right, but… I’ll try.”
Your chest tightens, a painful squeeze that leaves you breathless. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes sting, tears pooling faster than you’d like.
Toji notices immediately - of course he does.
His jaw flexes, a faint crease appearing between his brows as his hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but hesitates. “Please don’t cry,” he mutters, sounding almost panicked, like the words are dragged out of him. “I’m sorry. Shit, Y/N… how do I fix this?”
You shake your head weakly, a helpless shrug lifting your shoulders. You don’t have the answer either. “I’m just… feeling a lot right now,” you manage, voice trembling despite your best effort.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, the furrow between his brows deepening. For a long moment, he just stares at you, his hands curling into fists like he’s fighting himself.
“...Can I hold you?” The question is rough, almost whispered, like he’s afraid the wrong move will shatter you completely. “I don’t… I don’t deserve it. But-” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just I don’t wanna see you cry like this.”
The words make your throat tighten even more, tears threatening to spill again. He looks so out of his depth, wide shoulders tense like he’s ready for rejection but hoping anyway.
You nod, barely, and that’s all it takes. He’s moving toward you carefully, cautiously, like you’re something fragile he doesn’t trust himself to handle. When his arms finally wrap around you, they’re firm but tentative, holding you close without trapping you.
The warmth of him seeps into your trembling frame, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek grounding you. His breath shudders against your hair, and you swear you feel him murmur something that sounds like, “I’m so fucking sorry,” low and raw, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it.
But you do, and you let out a soft, shaky breath.
And God, you hate yourself for feeling your heart give into him so easily after everything.
After years of pain, betrayal, and loneliness. You should be furious. You should be keeping him at arm’s length and screaming. Yet, here you are, clinging to him, letting the familiar warmth of him dull the ache in your chest.
Your mind screams at you to be angry, to remind yourself how much he hurt you - but your heart, betraying you as it always has, doesn’t care.
You could stay here for hours in his arms.
You’ve dreamed of this moment for years, and yet -
He still left you. Heartless, cold, like you were nothing.
If it weren’t for Megumi, would he even be here? Would he be apologizing, hugging you, stroking your back like he still cared? Or would you still be standing alone in this apartment, waiting for a ghost that never returned?
Guilt and longing tangle in your chest as you tense, gently pulling away from him, and instantly regretting it as the cool air of your home brushes against your skin. He lets you, careful not to push too far, his dark brows knitting in concern.
“I, um…sorry,” you mutter lightly, brushing away what must be the last of your tears. You notice his furrowed expression, almost exasperated - and you want to laugh. But you don’t.
God, he looks like an older Megumi right now.
He’s opening his mouth, likely to scold you for apologizing, but you cut him off with a rush of resolve, awkwardly avoiding his gaze. “We shouldn’t… we’re back in each other’s lives for Megumi. It’s best we don’t revisit the past,” you say, voice tentative but firm.
He quirks a dark brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hugging you is revisiting the past?”
“Acting like you care about me is,” the words tumble out sharp and unguarded, before you can stop them. His green eyes widen, and for a heartbeat, you falter, wishing you could take them back.
“Y/N, I do care about you" Toji says, low and earnest, but you don’t want to hear it.
“That doesn’t matter now" you cut him off, panic coiling in your chest.
The conversation is heading somewhere you’re not ready to go, and your hands fidget in your lap, twisting the edge of your sweater. He seems to sense you shutting down; his gaze sharpens, serious and intense in a way that jolts you.
“Y/N, wait. We need to talk about this-”
“I don’t want to” you admit finally, forcing your eyes to meet his with as much steadiness as you can muster. Vulnerable and wide open, your heart still feels lodged in his hand from years ago, and you can’t give him another piece of it yet.
Toji exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you again or remain rooted in place.
“Okay” he says finally, voice low, rough, tangled with pain and longing. “But I don’t want to barge into Megumi’s life, have him think Mom and Dad don’t get along. We have to address the past at some point.”
Your chest tightens, the lump in your throat heavier than ever.
The thought of him stepping into your son’s life after all these years coils something tight inside you, a knot of fear laced with reluctant hope. You want to protest, to tell him he doesn’t deserve it, that he has no right.
But your throat closes, words catching on the weight of everything unsaid. And at the end of the day, you’re relieved he’s here.
You hate your traitorous heart.
“I know I fucked up,” Toji murmurs, voice rough, his green eyes searching your face like he’s afraid of what he’ll find. “But I need to try. For him. For you, if you’ll let me.”
You look away, fingers twisting the hem of your sweater. “I don’t know if I can just let you,” you whisper, the words raw and trembling, carved out of longing and old hurt.
He nods slowly, like he expected nothing less. “Yeah.” His gaze drops to the floor for a beat before locking back onto you, steady and unflinching. “I’ll try anyway, I want to make this right y/n.”
Something in his tone, bare and almost pleading, cuts through you. You bite your lip hard, fighting back the tide of emotion that threatens to pull you under.
Finally, after what feels like forever, you nod. Small. Careful. “Okay. For Megumi. But what happened between us can wait.” The words are barely audible, like you’re confessing them to the quiet more than to him.
He exhales softly, relief flickering across his face for the briefest moment, so fragile you almost miss it. That softness, foreign and tender, makes your chest ache in ways you can’t name.
“When can I meet him?” he asks, voice low.
You swallow, surprised by his calm resolve. “I was hoping before his birthday party. But I know you’re probably busy.”
“I’ll clear my schedule. How’s tomorrow sound?”
You blink, stunned. “Are you sure? You can take some time to think about this.”
“Y/N,” he interrupts gently but firmly. “I’m sure. I’ll be here.”
The room settles into a quiet so fragile it feels like it might shatter with a breath. The past still looms heavy between you, a shadow neither of you can outrun. But for now, he’s here. You’re here. And maybe, for tonight, that’s enough.
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The next morning creeps in, and Toji’s schedule is wiped clean.
He doesn’t give a damn if his CFO’s skull explodes in today’s meeting, he has more important duties to attend to. Duties… as a new father.
Not that there’s a stroller or a diaper bag in sight. No, instead Toji stands at your front door with a glossy, oversized box tucked under his arm. A brand-new gaming console. His hopeful peace offering.
Six-year-olds like video games, right?
You had texted him last night after your awkward goodbye, numbers now officially exchanged, to tell him not to bring gifts. But with Megumi’s birthday and Christmas around the corner, Toji figures he has years of missed holidays to make up for.
Why not start now?
He’s outside your door at 9 AM sharp, exactly like you’d agreed. The plan: pick you and Megumi up and take you to a cozy breakfast spot tucked away in another part of the city.
The winter air bites at his skin, his breath puffing out in soft clouds. He shifts his weight, heart thudding like he’s about to face down an opposing business partner rather than his own five-year-old.
Truth is, Toji Zenin is ready to crap his pants. Not that he’d ever admit it.
Then, the door swings open.
You appear, as effortlessly beautiful as ever, hair freshly styled, dark-wash jeans hugging your frame, and a soft jumper that makes you look cozy enough to curl up with. Your eyes flick to the shiny box in his hands, and your brows pull together. “Seriously, Toji? I told you no gifts.”
“Y/N, what the hell does a six-year-old even talk about?” he blurts out, looking absurdly out of place for a man of his size and presence. “I needed a crutch.”
You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.
Seeing the infamous, intimidating Toji Zenin practically shaking at the thought of meeting your tiny son is… priceless. Yesterday, everything had been heavy with nostalgia and grief.
Maybe this is why today feels lighter. Now, you have a chance to enjoy watching him sweat.
“Toji, it’ll be fine. How’d you even get that so fast?” you ask, nodding to the console.
“Promised my assistant a raise if he did this for me and came back from vacation early. Guy’ll do anything for cash,” he mutters darkly.
You pause, brows raised. “I don’t even want to know.”
“Probably not,” he admits.
“Alright, well, come inside. He’s watching TV,” you say, giving him a small smile as you turn to open the door wider.
Before you can step back, his large hand closes around your arm, startling you. “Y/N, wait.”
You turn, brows raised in curiosity, while his jaw tightens like he’s working up the nerve to speak.
“What’s he like?” The words come out low, almost hesitant. He releases your arm quickly, as if realizing he shouldn’t have grabbed you, his gaze flicking away for a second.
“He’s… a lot like you, actually,” you admit with a knowing smile, one that’s both fond and a little nervous.
Toji’s face falters, and he mutters a quiet, “Shit.”
You snort at the reaction, nodding. “Don’t curse around him by the way. He’ll make you put money in the swear jar.”
“You have a swear jar?!”
“He’s five, Toji. Of course we have a swear jar.” You sigh, resigned, because you’re very much a victim of that jar yourself.
He grits his teeth, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “We’re getting off track here. How do I get him to like me?”
You cross your arms, biting back a smile. “For starters? Maybe stop looking like someone’s holding you at gunpoint.”
He blinks at you, caught off guard, then huffs a laugh and glances away, cheeks flushed - and not just from the cold. “Shit, I’m nervous, okay? Feels like I’m gonna say the wrong thing and he’ll hate me forever.”
You tilt your head, unimpressed. “We’ve got bigger issues than that, Toji.”
He scoffs. “What the hell could be worse than that?”
“Hypothermia, if we keep standing out here. Then Megumi won’t have any parents. Let’s go inside.” You snort, reaching back to grab his arm and tugging him in as you open the door to your warm apartment.
Toji freezes for half a second at the casual touch, his green eyes going wide. He’s terrified of what’s coming next but stupidly thrilled by the way your hand curls around his arm, like it’s natural, easy, like it used to be.
He has no right to blush at something so small, but he does anyway.
Motherhood looks good on you. You’ve always been beautiful, one of the prettiest girls in all his classes back then, he’d always thought so. But now, there’s something new, a warmth, a glow that’s only made you more magnetic.
Or maybe he’s just got rocks for brains and is too drawn to the fact that you’re the mother of his son, despite everything between you.
“Megumi, honey,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, soft but steady. “Look who I brought.”
He blinks and realizes you’ve already led him further into your home, boots still on as you stop in the middle of the living room.
Toji’s gaze immediately snaps to the couch.
There he is.
A tiny figure perched among a nest of throw pillows. His mop of spiky black hair sticks out in every direction, stubborn and wild, and his wide green eyes - Toji’s green eyes - blink up at him with the kind of unimpressed stare only a child from his bloodline can manage.
Megumi’s dressed neatly in dark jeans and a crisp button-up layered under a warm sweater, his little sneakers dangling off the edge of the couch, patterned with cartoon dogs.
The scene is quite adorable, with a cartoon murmuring quietly on the TV in the background and the smell of your morning coffee drifting faintly through the air.
Toji freezes for half a second, his chest tightening. He’d seen all the pictures, you’d even sent him a dozen more last night, but it’s different seeing him in person. Seeing his son.
It feels like staring at a mirror twenty-something years younger, all sharp angles and stubbornness now miniature form in chubby cheeks and big eyes.
And just like that, Toji's heart turns to mush. No words exchanged, yet he knows with bone-deep certainty he’d kill and die for this tiny human without hesitation.
“Hi, Megumi,” Toji says at last, his voice low but steady after a quiet breath.
Those big green eyes don’t blink. They stay locked on him, steady and unyielding, as if the boy is carefully sizing him up. He doesn’t say a word, even as you slip away from Toji’s side and move toward him, your hand gently leaving the man’s arm.
“Megumi, this is Toji. Your daddy. Remember this morning I told you he’d come?” Your voice is soft as you kneel beside the couch, taking Megumi’s small hand in your own.
The boy finally stirs, nodding slightly. His little fingers curl tighter around yours, and it is clear he is deeply wary of the towering man in his home.
The only other man he had ever seen this big was probably Sukuna, Yuuji’s strange tattooed uncle. But even Sukuna didn’t feel this intimidating!
Toji swallows hard, suddenly remembering the large box tucked under his arm. You catch on, seizing the opportunity and deciding to use it as a bridge between them.
“He was happy to know you wanted to meet him, and he even brought you a gift before Christmas,” you whisper conspiratorially, loud enough for Toji to hear. The man could kiss you right now for the heavy lifting you’re doing here.
Megumi’s reaction is minimal though, just as you expected. His gaze flickers briefly to the box in Toji’s arms, avoiding his father’s face entirely.
Toji takes that as his cue and steps further into the room, crouching slightly as he shows Megumi the gift. The box is so big it looks like it could take up half of Megumi’s small frame.
You gasp, feigning excitement, really doing gods work for both of them. “Look, Megumi! Wasn’t this on your wishlist for Santa Claus?” you ask brightly, taking the box from Toji and presenting it to your son.
Megumi’s eyes linger on the box for a moment longer before he slowly nods, leaning closer to you.
His small hands clutch at your sweater as he scoots into your side, tucking his head against your shoulder like he wants to disappear.
Your smile is soft and reassuring as you rub his back, tilting your head to catch Toji’s eye. You mouth, he’s just shy, offering him a little shrug as if to say give him time.
Toji straightens, watching the two of you with a look that’s hard to place.
He expected this, he's really a stranger to this child - he knew Megumi wouldn’t come running into his arms or beam at him like in some cheesy holiday movie, but seeing his boy so small and so unsure twists something deep in his chest.
“Yeah, that’s alright,” he murmurs quietly, his voice rough but gentle now. He sets the box carefully down on the coffee table, his massive hands strangely tender with the bright ribbon all around it. “No rush, kid. You open it whenever you feel like it.”
Megumi peeks at him from over your shoulder, his green eyes narrowed but still curious.
You press a soft kiss to the top of his head and whisper, “See? Daddy’s nice. He brought you something special!” Your voice is low and soothing, almost a lullaby, and you feel the tightness in Megumi’s little body ease just slightly under your touch.
Toji keeps his distance, lowering himself onto the arm of a nearby chair. The movement is deliberate, as though he’s trying to shrink himself down, to be less overwhelming.
His gaze flicks to you, gratitude written plainly on his face, before drifting back to his son.
There’s something vulnerable in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the man’s towering frame, a man who looks like he could crush the world but is terrified of scaring his own child.
You know you’ll have to take the reins today. The two Zenin men in your life are both frozen, two halves of the same stubborn coin, and their only shared ground seems to be you.
“Well,” you murmur gently, shifting Megumi in your arms, “since we’ve all met, I think it’s time we get some breakfast. We can’t start the day on an empty tummy, can we, Megumi?” Your words are soft and coaxing, and Megumi rests his head on your shoulder, clutching your sweater in a vice grip.
Toji notices the quiet breath you take before rising to your feet, his sharp eyes catching the way you steady yourself. Carrying Megumi has become harder with every passing day, his little body growing heavier, but you shoulder the weight without complaint.
The urge to help you nearly overwhelms him. He wants nothing more than to reach out and pluck the boy from your arms like it’s nothing, to give you a moment of relief.
But he knows neither of you are ready for that comfort yet, so he stays put, hands curling against his knees as he swallows the instinct.
For now, just being in the same room will do.
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The morning is sharp and cold, your breath misting in the air as Toji holds the door open for you and Megumi.
His car gleams in the pale winter light, a sleek black machine that looks out of place parked along your quiet street. You settle in the back with Megumi, tucking him close under his little jacket, his head resting against your shoulder as he clutches his favorite plush keychain in one hand.
Toji circles around to the driver’s side, slipping into the seat with an ease that betrays his nerves.
He glances at you in the rearview mirror as he starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence. “Seatbelts on?” he mutters, his voice calm, though you notice his fingers tightening briefly around the steering wheel before he pulls out of the driveway.
You can't help but lift an amused brow at that, Toji never really having been one to care about car safety before.
The city passes by quickly, winter casting everything in muted tones. Frost clings to car windows, and holiday decorations hang in shopfronts, glowing faintly even in the daylight.
The ride is quiet but not uncomfortable; Megumi stays nestled against you, thumb brushing over the soft ears of his keychain, while Toji keeps sneaking glances at the two of you through the mirror.
There’s something soft in his expression, though he hides it quickly whenever your eyes catch his.
It’s not long before the car slows in front of a little café tucked between a bookstore and a small boutique, its sign hand-painted and its windows fogged from the warmth inside.
The place looks the same as it always has, cozy and inviting, golden light from all the strung up fairy lights spilling out onto the frosted sidewalk.
Your breath catches for a moment. You recognize it instantly.
“Toji,” you murmur, stepping out of the car as he comes around to open your door. “We’ve been here before.”
He pauses, glancing at you with a hint of surprise, though a faint smirk tugs at his mouth. “You remember that?”
You give a small nod, your gaze flicking briefly toward the café
“Yeah.” Your voice is soft, almost cautious.
The memory of the two of you in that very corner booth years ago surfaces unbidden, him leaning back in his seat with a lazy grin, you laughing at something you can’t even remember now, the smell of cinnamon and coffee lingering in the air. It all feels like a different lifetime.
You tighten your grip on Megumi’s small hand, grounding yourself in the present. “It… hasn’t changed much.”
Toji just shrugs like it’s nothing, though you catch a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as he steps closer, his large hand hovering near your back without quite touching.
Inside, the café is warm and alive with quiet morning chatter. The air smells of coffee and sugar, the clinking of plates and soft music from an old speaker creating a comfortable buzz.
Wooden tables are lined with potted plants, and a fireplace crackles near the back wall, adding a faint smoky scent to the air. You guide Megumi inside, his small hand tucked in yours, while Toji takes a step ahead to request a booth, his deep voice catching the attention of a few servers who greet him with familiarity.
It feels like stepping into a memory, though now there’s a child’s small fingers curled tightly around yours and a man across from you who feels both achingly familiar and entirely changed from the one who first brought you here.
Before you know it, the three of you are seated in a corner booth. You and Toji sit opposite one another, Megumi sandwiched in the middle, though he’s made a point of pressing himself firmly against your side, practically glued to you.
You catch Toji’s eye and offer a small, sheepish smile.
The comforting scent of cinnamon and fresh bread drifts through the café as a waitress approaches with warm professionalism, handing out menus. Megumi gets a colorful, ocean-themed one along with a small box of crayons, which he immediately begins to fiddle with, twisting them between his little fingers.
The silence between you all lingers for a few beats, broken only by the soft clinking of dishes and the low hum of conversation from other tables. Finally, Toji clears his throat, his deep voice awkward but trying. “So, Megumi… see anything on the menu you like?”
Megumi glances up, cheeks puffed, his expression serious as he narrows his green eyes at his father. “I’m reading.”
You bite back a laugh, glancing at Toji and leaning closer to explain. “He’s in kindergarten, so he’s just learning. He insists he doesn’t need my help.”
Megumi turns his sharp little gaze on you, pouting. “I can read, Mommy. Better than the other kids in my class.”
You raise your brows at his indignation, fighting a smile at the way he’s judging you both so harshly.
Toji leans back in the booth, watching his son with an amused glint in his eyes. “Yeah? You’re the best reader in your class, huh?”
Megumi gives him a short, decisive nod, lips pressed into a little line.
“Well, that’s good. Means you’re smart. Got that from me,” Toji says with a small smirk, sitting back like he’s just dropped some great truth.
Megumi’s green eyes narrow, his small hands gripping the edge of the menu. “Mommy’s smarter.”
You press your lips together, fighting a laugh as Toji’s smirk falters.
“Is she now?” Toji leans forward, feigning offense. “I don’t know, kid. I was at the top of my class back in the day, even better than your mom.” You can't help but roll your eyes at that one. He'd just barely gotten a better grade than you in one class, and has clearly never let it go.
Megumi gives him a long, unimpressed stare. “You cheated.”
You actually snort at that one, covering your mouth with your hand as Toji’s jaw drops in mock outrage.
“Hey, I did not cheat,” he says, defending himself with mock sternness. “I was just that good.”
Megumi crosses his arms, skeptical as ever. “You look like you cheat.”
Your composure is broken, a borderline evil smile on your face as Toji leans back in his seat, defeated. The tension at the table lightens just a fraction despite megumi’s mean side eye, he returns to his kiddie menu a moment later, narrowed eyes slowly going over each word as if to prove his own point.
Megumi glances at Toji one more time, like he’s still not sure he believes him, before scooting closer to you and tugging lightly at your sleeve. He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you.
“I want the chocolate waffles.”
You glance down at him, his serious little pout tugging at your heart, but you school your features into something calm. “That’s a lot of sugar for breakfast, baby,” you murmur gently.
His lips press together in a thin line, his brows furrowing. He pulls back just enough to pout at you, then flicks his gaze toward Toji, as if silently signaling for backup.
Toji, catching the look, quirks a brow. “What?”
Megumi tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and determination.
“She says I can’t have the chocolate waffles.”
Toji’s brows lift, and for a split second, he looks like he’s calculating the stakes of this moment: his first real parenting decision. He can either undermine you and be The Fun Dad, giving his kid a mountain of sugar at 9:30 a.m., or agree with you and hope to stay on your good side.
You’re watching him closely, and the weight of that stare makes his decision for him.
“Mm.” Toji leans an elbow on the table, glancing between the two of you, his expression softening. “Well,” he says slowly, “if your mom says no, you gotta listen to her.”
Megumi’s jaw drops, scandalized. “Aren’t dads supposed to be helpful? Yuuji lied.”
You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. Toji’s jaw, on the other hand, drops in offense. “Yuuji?! Sukuna’s nephew? What else is that little brat telling you?”
Megumi squints at him like he’s the disappointment of the year, then turns dramatically to bury his face in your side, a little huff escaping him.
“Yuuji is my friend!” he announces from your lap. “And he said if you came, you’d be cool. Hmph.”
You blink, wide-eyed, glancing at Toji. You and Jin are absolutely going to have to start regulating what Yuuji and Megumi discuss at school.
Toji, though, looks far more rattled by the revelation than by his own five-year-old’s judgment. “What are the odds of that…” he mutters, shaking his head.
You can see the gears turning in his head - Sukuna had probably mentioned school events for Yuuji a dozen times, and now Toji’s realizing his best friend met his son before he did. You lean forward quickly, wanting to get ahead of that thought spiral.
“Sukuna met Megumi on accident too,” you explain gently. “I had a playdate planned with Yuuji and his dad, but Sukuna had to come instead.”
Toji’s jaw tightens, sharp eyes narrowing, his expression hardening in that quiet way that makes your stomach twist. Sukuna, his closest friend, had known about Megumi and said nothing?
He could understand Geto, at least. Geto had given you Toji’s number, encouraged you to reach out. But Sukuna?
“I see,” Toji says flatly, voice low, his gaze flicking back to his son like he’s grounding himself.
You chew the inside of your cheek, your pulse picking up. You can practically see him replaying every moment Ryomen had lied to his face, covering for you.
You weren’t exactly fond of your ex-friends anymore, but you didn’t want them to get in trouble with Toji because they were keeping your secret.
“I also asked Sukuna to… y’know, give me time,” you murmur carefully, voice soft, vague enough for Megumi’s sharp little ears.
Megumi stirs in your lap at your tone, his big green eyes darting between the two of you curiously, and you instinctively press a kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to soothe him before he can sense the tension crackling between the adults.
Toji glances back at you, something unreadable in his eyes, then exhales slowly. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N.” His voice is rough but calm, a deliberate choice, and he rakes a hand through his inky black hair like he’s trying to shake off the tension instead of letting it show.
The weight of Toji’s stare lingers, the air at the table tight and heavy. He looks like he’s biting back a hundred thoughts, and you’re about to speak again when a small voice cuts through it.
“Who cares about Yuuji's uncle?” Megumi mutters, his little brow furrowed as he tugs at your sleeve. “I just want my waffles.”
You blink at him, startled, before a soft laugh slips past your lips despite yourself. Toji lets out a low snort, his broad shoulders loosening as he leans back into the booth, the sharpness in his expression finally softening.
“Fair enough, kid,” Toji rumbles, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You press a kiss to Megumi’s dark hair, smiling as you shake your head. “Priorities, huh?”
Megumi gives a firm little nod, attention swinging back to the ocean-themed kiddie menu like nothing in the world mattered more than breakfast.
And just like that, the storm in Toji’s eyes fades, replaced by something softer as he watches his son, his gaze steady but warm.
“Maybe we can share those waffles,” you say gently, threading your fingers through Megumi’s soft hair. “You and me. But only if you eat some fruit too.”
Megumi perks up, clearly considering this compromise, though he still sneaks a side-eye at Toji, as if silently holding him accountable for not siding with him earlier.
“Yes please, Mommy,” he murmurs, squishing his cheek against your shoulder and settling there, perfectly content in what he considers the comfiest place in the world. You smooth a hand over his back, offering Toji a hesitant smile.
“I’m hoping you can play the stern parent moving forward. It’s kind of hard to win against him,” you say softly, jokingly.
Toji snorts, leaning an elbow on the table, his lips quirking. “I don’t know, Y/N. We’re fucked then.”
Megumi whips around so fast it’s like he’s been struck by lightning, leaping off your lap to glare at his father with wide, scandalized eyes.
“That’s an ugly word!” Megumi declares, his small voice full of righteous fury. “You gotta pay up when we go home!”
Toji freezes for a moment, eyebrows raised - not because of the scolding, but because of something else entirely. That soft warmth he thought he’d buried long ago flickers to life in his chest at those two simple words.
Megumi doesn’t realize what he just said, and you probably don’t either. But Toji does.
Because the idea sounds almost too good to be true.
Going home. With you. With him.
And in that quiet moment, as Megumi huffs and leans back into your side, Toji makes himself a silent promise.
Yuji stood there with teary eyes, sniffling and ready to scream
His father was sat there with a smug smile staring down at him
You could barely see over your husband’s shoulder who was leaning on his side over your lap. Yuji’s hands coming up reaching for you only to lightly be swatted away by Ryomen
“No, mine.”
Yuji let out a silent cry, Sukuna’s grin widened as you sighed
“Moommmyyy” he tried to push past his dad hands reaching out for you again
“No,” Sukuna swatted his little hands away again, “Mine.”
Yuji let out a small scream and started crying falling back and down onto his little butt, “MooMMMYyyyy”
You had watched this happen for five minutes and you shook your head with a smile, “Come here baby.” Sukuna moved out the way and you lightly shouldered him with a smile, he still had a grin on his face as he picked up Yuji dropping him on your lap
Yuji’s hands clinging to your shirt as he sniffled into your chest, only for Sukuna to lean down to his ear, “still mine.”
Yuji wailed looking up at you before you placed a hand on his head kissing his forehead, his smile was wobbly with teary eyes as he buried his face into your chest again and Sukuna chuckled placing his hand over yours on Yuji’s head. “Heh, brat.”
Sukuna doesn’t understand why you love the stinking brat so much. Every time Jin asks you to babysit, you say yes without hesitation. Jin doesn’t even bother to ask Sukuna either, he goes straight to you because he knows you won’t say no. Jin knows his twin brother a little too well because Sukuna would reject the idea quickly.
You, on the other hand…
“Do you want more mango, Yuji?” You put on a baby voice for Yuji, who stares at you with wide eyes. Sukuna watches from the couch, rolling his eyes. The little fatass can’t even say his dada but he sure can say yes to more mango. You better not get the stupid idea of having one of your own anytime soon. “Sukuna, can you hold on to him while I get him more mango.”
He doesn’t know how you got in front of him so fast but within a blink you’re shoving the drooling baby in his face. Yuji smiles, showing off his tiny teeth to his uncle. It makes Sukuna roll his eyes as he takes the baby from your hands. Yuji’s cute sometimes… He guesses.
Yuji’s sticky hands go straight to Sukuna’s face, and he groans. He yells, “Ew! Why didn’t you wipe his hands? They’re so gross.”
Sukuna stands up and goes to the kitchen to wash Yuji’s hands. Yuji giggles as Sukuna puts his tiny hands under the water, and it’s cute. Sukuna doesn’t like the baby at all but he’s cute sometimes. Not like he’ll ever let it be known. That’s where you’re different because you don’t miss a breath before commenting, “He’s the cutest.”
“He’s drying his hands by shoving them in his mouth.” Sukuna says, taking Yuji’s hands out of his mouth. It earns a cry from the baby, and this is what drives Sukuna mad. You tell a baby not to do something that’ll probably kill them, and they’ll cry.
“What do you have against him? He’s so cute.” You say, and he grimaces as he stares at Yuji. There’s no point in arguing with you because you won’t listen. He sees that you’re done cutting up the mango, so he shoves the baby back into your arms.
“Have him back.” Sukuna will hide his adoration for the baby as hard as he can, even when there’s a spark in Yuji’s eyes when looking at Sukuna. Maybe he puts on a baby voice when you’re not around, and he starts to play peek-a-boo with the baby. He’s the tough uncle now that you’re around though.
“He loves you so much, Suku. Look at him, reaching out to you.” You point out, and Sukuna looks away as baby Yuji opens and closes his little fists. Tears are welling up in the baby’s eyes, because while he loves his aunt, he much prefers his uncle to hold him.
“Keep him. Sticky fingers.” Sukuna scoffs, and he begins to walk away but he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks.
“Su–” The baby is trying to say his name, and even though it’s just the first syllable, Sukuna takes it as his whole name. Fine, he fucking loves the stupid brat.
“Fine, since you want me to hold the baby so badly, I’ll take him.” Sukuna snatches Yuji out of your hands. He’s suppressing a smile as he looks at his nephew. Yuji’s tears dry up and his pout is replaced with a smile. Crocodile tears, Sukuna can’t help but feel proud.
“I see it– You love him so much.” You point out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes as he walks away with the baby.
“Don’t even get an idea of having your own, because I’m not giving you one.” Sukuna warns you, and you smirk before saying,
“I’ll just find someone who’ll give me one… Your twin is single, wonder if he’ll help me.” Which makes Sukuna nearly drop the baby. Sukuna puts Yuji down in the high chair before taking off his shirt.
“Give him the mango and meet me in the bedroom, I’ve changed my mind.” He says, and you chuckle.
“Put it back on, idiot. You’re feeding him.” You tell him, walking over to him to hand him the bowl with the cut up fruit. Sukuna glares at the baby, but his eyes soften the longer he stares.
Yuji and Sukuna had been arguing again. something you tuned out a long time ago. You had three chapters left in your book and you were determined to finish before lunch ended. Their bickering was just background noise at this point.
But then Yuji shot up from his seat so abruptly that it silenced the entire cafeteria.
He was loud, brash, and easy to provoke, yes, but he rarely got genuinely frustrated with Sukuna. The fact that he looked red-faced and furious while Sukuna just looked how he always does. Straight faced as he just stares at him. sitting back on the plastic cafeteria chair that was definitely too small for his large frame.
Then Yuji pointed straight at you.
“You—” he practically growled, jabbing a finger at you like you personally offended the universe. “Keep your damn dog on a leash!”
Megumi nearly choked on his water. Nobara was already cackling, doubling over the entire time.
Yuji stormed out with Megumi and Nobara trailing after him, though even they looked confused.
At first, the comment made you laugh. Sukuna was no one’s anything, certainly not yours. He was arrogant, sharp-tongued, and never listened to you without acting like it was a huge inconvenience.
But then you thought about it.
And thought about it.
⸻
“Hey… Sukuna?” you asked your roommate later that afternoon. You've been rooming with him for a few months, it used to the three of you with Yuji. But he moved out since they often bickered, and that prompted him to stay with his step-brother Choso instead.
It was quiet. The apartment was warm with late sunlight, the TV playing some movie neither of you were paying attention to. Half a bowl of popcorn sat on the table, forgotten.
You felt him stir somewhere on the couch, presence folding over your awareness like a lazy shadow.
“What?” he drawled. His tone was casual, but you felt his attention sharpen, focused directly on you.
You swallowed. “Lie down.”
There was a beat of silence.
“…What?”
“Lie down,” you repeated gently. “On my lap. I want to play with your hair.”
His presence flared. sharp, startled, incredulous.
“Have you lost your mind?” he scoffed. “You dare ask me—”
You leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes soft and pleading.
“Please, Sukuna? Just this once? No one will know. And you don’t even have to pretend. Just… relax. Let me.”
You didn’t expect it to work.
Which is exactly why your breath caught when—
He did.
At first, he seemed incredibly awkward as he lay his head in your lap, his cheeks tinting with a pink you knew he'd deny if you ever pointed it out. But after you began to run your fingers through the pale pink strands, which were surprisingly soft even though you knew for a fact he used far more product than you ever did, he began to relax. At one point, he even closed his eyes and hummed a sound that was something akin to a purr of contentment.
You bit back a smile as you continued to make a home of his hair, and you couldn't help the part of you that affectionately thought, that this, huge, big man is nuzzling his cheek on your thigh. The man people could barely make eye-contact with. The one students in your school almost press themselves to the locker to whenever he passes by. They fear him, teachers hate him. But right now?
Replying to your recent post and uhm...NONE!? 👿 When I 1st discovered I was ssoo happy and giggly cause there's not much op fic here😜 ( I think?🤓) too bad I haven't been active lately. I miss my prime fr💔😣🥀 bdiexjekxjos Genuinely love u and ur writing please don't go bald D: w-wait no...WTF NOOOO PLEASEE DON'T GO BALD NAURRRRRR—
Not being much active means you will be back to more new fanfictions, so it's still a win 🙂↕️ eheheh
Ridiculously so - of course he himself is huge... you wonder if it's everywhere, as he taps his thigh, and your lips part, tummy clenching with need for him, breath caught in your throat.
"Need something, sweets?" He asks so casually, smiling at you as you sit across from him, clearing your throat.
"No. No I'm sorry..." Fuck how long are his fingers!? Five inches?? More...
He chuckles a little, leaning forward, fingers slipping down off his thighs now, as he gathers up wads of cash to pay you. He surprised you when he started buying weed, him the star student at college.
But the two of you have become cool. You - the little stoner weeb, him - the straight laced perfect student. His fingers so long and thick are ruining you and your ovulation brain, as he counts the money.
"How much for this again-"
"How long are your fingers?"
He blinks a bit then, smirking at you, raising a brow behind those obnoxious shades he loves to wear. "Huh?"
"Shit... nothing..." Satoru sets the money down then, leaning forward, so close you heat up, tummy clenching and heating up. "That was so rude, I'm sorry..."
"How long are they?" He repeats, blue eyes lidded, when they brush up your thigh, elgant long fingers leaving goosebumps in their trail, making you tremble. "That what you ask?"
"N-no!? I mean..." He chuckles softly, some of that snowy hair falling over a brow, thick fingers even higher. "Maybe?"
"Long enough to hit that spot," you bite your lower lip, legs pressing together. "Or... probably long enough to hit your cervix."
Fuck.
"Would you like a demonstration, for research purposes?" His voice is like honey, his lips twitching at the corners, pink plump ones you want all over your body. "Of how long they are?"
That's how you end up with two of Satoru Gojo's long fingers buried inside your cunt, plunging all the way to the knuckle and curling up. He's knelt right between your thighs on that old suede couch of yours, pressure hitting as he moves them up and down, up and down, a hand braced on one side of you, that tie tickling your skin, earning your tug.
"F-fuck..." You're clinging to one of his veiny forearms, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut, pulling on that tie with a clenched fist, the other slipping down his veiny forearm.
"You're this wet just thinkin' about my fingers? Hah," he's smirking down at you, curling them mean and deep, making you gasp out. "I dunno, how many inches ya think? More than any dick you've had?"
"Shit you're conceited," he just grins, pausing those like he's gonna yank 'em out before you get to cum. "Y-yes. Don't stop. Fuck... all the weed you want."
"All I want, hmm? Better make you cum real good then," he whispers, starting to scissor them in and out of your syrupy folds, making you clench around him. He sucks in a breath, eyes locking. "Hah - ya gonna cum this quick sweetheart?"
"Mnh!" He's hitting your spots with expert precision, working you so good you're about to shatter, gasping out with every plunge of those thick digits in your messy hole - the word sweetheart doing shit to your brain.
"Easiest weed ever, making you cum like this," he whispers, leaning low. "I'll still pay though."
"W-why?" You manage to squeak out, as his lips hover an inch from yours, fingers scissoring faster, your cunt a drooling mess that he can't wait to bury his cock into.
"Because. I'm rich sweetheart," he looks at you under those snowy lashes, curling both fingers up in your gummy walls, making you scream out, back arching. He doesn't say the real reason - that he should be paying you for the privilege of getting his fingers deep in your hole. "Go ahead, cum for me pretty."
You're done for.
Nerdy, perfect Satoru Gojo has you gushing and dripping as your orgasm hits. His thumb from his other hand brushes your nipple, lips kissing down your throat, his glasses fogging up just a bit from the condensation of his breath, tickling your skin and making you pulse.
"Fuckkk," the word escapes so languidly from the back of your throat, the smoke you'd had earlier just enhancing how fucking good you feel. "Gonna... ah - gonna cum againnn!"
"So easy f'me," he murmurs, talking cocky even as his cock twitches, heated cheeks from just how pretty you are like this. Sweat on your brow while your cunt gets louder, messier, a creamy ring on his knuckles. "Greedy girl, go ahead, fuck yourself on them."
You're shameless, arching up your hips to do just that, cunt gushing and spasming, nails digging into his forearm now and making him hiss. "Ngh!"
"Would ya look at that," he huffs, lips sucking your throat now, right where your pulse flutters, feeling you cum again and wanting it to milk him dry. "There you go, doing s'good too."
He's talking you through it, leaning up and running his fingers through your soppy folds, moaning when you twitch and spasm underneath him. "Oh my god..."
He chuckles like this was easy or normal, slipping two fingers out of your messy cunt with a pop before slurping your slick right off his fingers. Your mouth drops, gasping at the filthy sight.
He sees fucking hearts in your eyes then.
"Mmm..." He moans and licks more of your embarrassing amount of cum off, before gripping your chin with his clean hand. "Open."
You open eagerly, and preppy, nerdy Satoru Gojo spits your cum in it, right on your tongue.
Oh fuck.
Your cunt has a heart beat. Your eyes have hearts in them... Are you fucked dumb and in love from Gojo's fingers!?!?
"So cute," he languidly says, leaning down and pressing a messy kiss on your clit, you whimper, hips jerking from the little brush, he parts those puffy lips and eyes it. "All jumping around. Aww."
"I... you... um..." You're done for, brain short circuiting, he helps you up and fixes your strap with the two fingers that were inside you, his lips glossy with your cum.
"So, how long do you think they are?"
You blush furiously, girl math isn't mathing. "Five inches?"
He spreads his fingers, contemplating. "Six I think. Small in comparison to..." He trails off, grabbing the cash, you shove it at him, shaking your head.
"No. Free weed. Take all of it."
He chuckles now. "Well, I'll have to give that clit attention next time then, as a thank you," he teases, kissing you and tasting your cunt mixed with cherry lip gloss and a hint of purp. "Thank you, sweetheart."
"Fuck, thank you..." He walks out with a smile, adjusting his nerdy cute little tie, when you light up a blunt and melt against the couch.
Your next question?
"How big is your -"
inspired by a tiktok thirst trap from @yenayaps thank her hehe <3
