Toji Fushiguro is so comfortable with his masculinity that he lets his pretty hyper feminine girlfriend do whatever she wants to him.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You need someone to practice a new makeup look on? he’s there. No complaints, no side comments. Just him patiently sitting on your vanity chair while you work your magic on him. Here and there he grunts when you accidentally forget to tell him the next thing you’re about to do, but he never says anything about it. Just a grunt and a soft sigh through his nose.
You want to do a movie night where you both wear matching pink hello kitty pjs while doing face masks? He’s there. Lazily sitting on the couch with you curled into his side - beefy muscular arm draped around your neck - his large hand on your ass. His stoic face painted with the refreshing green face mask, hair pulled back with one of your pink fluffy headbands, and of course his large legs being kept warm with the pink hello kitty pj pants.
His eyes occasionally glance down at you then back up at the cheesy rom com playing on the tv. He makes some comments here and there about how dumb the guy is, or just really any side comment making fun of the dude while his thumb is rubbing circles on your hip.
You want to paint his nails with the new color of nail polish you just got? he’s sitting crisscross on the floor letting you play salon on his large scarred fingers, his sharp eyes watch your delicate hands work their magic. Once you’re done, taking his large hand out of the led nail lamp holding up his hand to his face showing him the fresh paint job. His nails now a light pink his middle fingers having two small rhinestone decal just for fun.
Tojis eyes drift from his pink nails up to your face, eyes shining with hope of him liking them and that soft smile on your glossed lips. Tojis scarred lip turns upwards into a small smile as his eyes look at his nails.
“i love them, babydoll.” His usual deep voice now tender and so soft. Before his eyes can even look back up at you, you’re already squealing and rambling about all the steps you did when painting his nails and of course Toji listens the whole time. Small head nods, little “oh really?” and “mhm” here and there letting you know he was paying attention to you.
Toji will always be the type to do whatever makes his girl happy, no matter how girly it is. He is right there going along with it just to see that smile on your face, plus he secretly enjoys being pampered with your soft tender hands.
when you close the distance between you and nanami, his first reaction is to momentarily freeze.
he's surprised, but pleased. his brain just has to go offline for half a second first. then his eyebrows lift slightly, and he melts into you as soon as his body catches up with his head.
whether you grab his tie, pull him into a kiss, or initiate intimacy in bed, he feels the need to collect himself before letting go.
there's this pause where he's just looking at you like you've done something genuinely surprising. he won't say anything. but his ears are just red enough to notice.
the first time it happens, he genuinely doesn't know what to do with himself.
if you push him against the wall, he’ll stay there. hands hovering at your waist, eyes hooded.
he won’t take over unless you ask. you set the pace and nanami meets you with ease.
if there is ever a moment you falter or hesitate, he fills in, flipping the script smoothly. one hand cradling your jaw, the other bracing you, because his core need is your comfort, even if you're leading.
he’s secretly relieved. because nanami feels guilty about being ‘too tired’ or ‘too focused on work’ to make the first move, it lifts an invisible weight off his shoulder when you initiate.
after, he will press his lips to your temple, say nothing for a long moment. then quietly add a “thank you.”
actively hopes you'll continue doing it. leaves small hints. a lingering touch, a pointed look over his glasses.
observant by his nature, nanami becomes a student of your patterns. starts noticing when you're about to reach for his hand, when you're working up to something. he wouldn't ever stop you. instead nanami just makes it easier. angles himself toward you. leaves less distance between. he'd never admit out loud that's what he's doing.
are you initiating because you want to? he needs to know. nanami respects your emotional safety above all, and he won't shy away from pausing to ask—just once, simply, and if only something feels uncertain, even in the middle of your takeover.
“are you sure?”/“you don’t have to prove anything.”. the last thing he wants is for you to feel pressured to balance his reserved nature. once he believes you, he drops it.
the soft smile and sincere praise nanami offers afterwards feels like a reward for your boldness. he won't deny that, but he still fully means it. he lightly cups your cheek with his palm, only to gaze at you like you’ve solved a complex problem he’d been overthinking for weeks.
nanami will never reject you coldly, even when tired. makes sure to hold your initiating hand against his chest for a long moment. he's careful. doesn’t want to make you feel dismissed. sets boundaries gently.
he has a complicated relationship with how much he just likes it. nanami files the feeling away somewhere private — the way you just close the distance like it costs you nothing. he doesn't have a word for what it does to him. he doesn't look for one.
there's just something about you initiating that disarms nanami in a way he never would have expected. he has spent so long being deliberate and controlled, and you come and close the gap without ceremony. it does something to his mind. nanami can't name it. but he's thought about it more times than he cares to know.
once you grabbed his tie to pull him down to you, and he kissed you without hesitation then very calmly straightened it when done like nothing happened.
you have no clue that the thing that undoes nanami is way smaller than you would've thought. like holding his hand. unprompted, in the middle of nothing. as he reads. cooks. and he lets you. holds it a little tighter.
nanami gets almost playful about it eventually. once his trust runs deep, he starts leaving his tie slightly crooked on purpose. just to see if you'll fix it. just to see if you'll pull.
early mornings in the fushiguro household are never quiet.
you wake up to the soft thump of bare feet against the wooden floor, followed by a familiar, grumbly sigh that tells you exactly who's already up. the clock on the microwave glows an unforgiving 6:12 AM , and before you can even fully process that number, you hear a tiny voice from the dining table.
"why nuggets again?"
megumi's tone is deeply offended for someone who is three feet tall and barely awake. he's slumped in his chair, hair sticking up in every direction, arms crossed over his pajamas like he's been personally wronged by the concept of breakfast.
you suppress a smile as you walk into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes. "good morning to you too," you murmur, reaching for the ketchup.
"they're cold," megumi complains, poking one suspiciously with his fork. "and they're dinosaur ones. i wanted the circle ones."
"they're shaped like dinosaurs," you correct gently. "which is objectively cooler."
megumi squints at you, unconvinced. "the t-rex tastes weird."
behind you, toji snorts. he's leaning against the counter in his usual early morning uniform: loose sweatpants, plain shirt, hair a mess from sleep. one arm reaches for the coffee pot , dark circles under his eyes making him look permanently annoyed with the concept of mornings.
"kid," toji says, voice rough, already pouring himself a cup, "they all taste the same."
"no they don't," megumi fires back instantly. "you don't even eat nuggets."
"exactly."
you slide megumi's plate closer and add a little extra ketchup, hoping it'll appease him. he eyes it like he's negotiating a treaty. he pokes one nugget with all the drama of a food critic twice his age.
toji lifts the coffee pot again, frowning when it makes a strange gurgling noise. he tilts it, expecting more coffee.
toji snaps his head toward the table. "hey— no, no, don't say that."
megumi blinks. "but you said it."
toji rubs his face with his free hand, groaning. "yeah, well, i'm allowed."
"that's not fair."
"that's life."
you turn away to hide your smile as toji slams the pot back onto the machine, muttering under his breath while refilling it with water. the coffee maker chooses that exact moment to sputter loudly, spraying a few angry drops onto the counter and one directly onto toji's hand.
"shit—!"
megumi gasps. "shit!"
the kitchen goes dead silent.
megumi looks between the two of you, clearly very proud of himself.
"megumi," you say carefully, kneeling to his level. "we don't say that."
toji rubs a hand down his face. "yeah, don't—don't say that."
megumi tilts his head. "but papa said it."
toji clicks his tongue. "yeah, well. papa shouldn't have."
you clear your throat. "honey, that's a grown-up word."
megumi tilts his head. "but papa's a grown-up."
toji exhales through his nose, already losing the battle. "okay, yeah, but— i'm a bad example."
megumi considers this deeply, then nods. "i'll say it when i'm big."
"please don't," you and toji say at the same time.
toji finally gets his coffee brewing again, shaking his head as he leans back against the counter, taking a cautious sip from an older mug he found in the sink.
megumi pokes at his nuggets again. "next time, can we have pancakes?"
toji raises a brow. "minus the grown-up word, and i'll think about it."
megumi considers this, then looks back at his nuggets. "these are still bad."
mind you, the clock still says 6 AM which is a time meant for sleep, not nugget review and swearing.
husband! hiromi higuruma is a lover boy. trust. i will always be a believer (and a yapper) that this man absolutely fucks like sex is a sacred thing—slow, tender, and vulnerable.
not fucking you like a man, but a husband.
he works his ass off, can't you see him stressing on that shit ass train? the way he dipped into that damn bathtub like it's the last time? yes, he is deprived but also wanting to make you feel special. vulnerability occurs inside that damn house.
he will be very pathetic, asking you politely for what he needs despite the fact that all he wanted to do was to have you—in many ways than sex of course.
but at that moment, maybe sex is what he really needs especially seeing you so gorgeous. like a meal served purposely for a man who works really hard.
being fucking deep inside you is his private language. his cock was fucking throbbing already and eager to meet you— his tip nudging into the soft fabric, feeling the slit excited much like his. wet spot meeting the dripping tip. just like how it should be.
tongues colliding with your fingers deliberately trying to undo his blouse, his bigger one assisting your hand to properly discard his clothes with a slight grin on his lips. like a damn champ. his fourth smile of the day— before he leaves for work, seeing your messages, welcoming him home, and having you like this.
those fucking hips uncontrollably rising, with your lips between his cock. your hand between his thighs, your eyes meeting his eyes— he's fucking impatient but seeing you like this, he could manage. gently brushing your hair, seeing those cheeks hollow, flushed, and saliva dripping into your chin.
` so fucking pretty.
that's fucking it.
he eats pussy like it's a 5 star meal by the way, slow and deliberate but he knows how to feast— to show how to properly thank a very tasty meal serve in front of him.
he could win an award for treating that pussy like its damn sacred, your existence makes him vulnerable. with your hands claws into his back, pelvis meeting each thrust.
his face buried into your neck, moaning your name quietly while feeling the tight and sloppy walls between his cock— slow enough to make each thrust painfully good. his tip kissing the cervix, like hell.
your praises, it sounds like a damn drug in his ears. like he forgets the fact he almost everything pissed him off a week straight. he's a good husband, who pleases his wife well.
just like how it is.
and when he spilled inside, he holds you like he's not even thinking of letting go soon. i love you, i love you, i love you fuck.
and maybe then, seeing your belly swollen would be a good sight too.
want more? read ts! my beautiful hiromi cookie bear
ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : in my quiet existence in this app, this man made me write again. fuh, im obsessed w him.
─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!
toji always sleeps on his stomach, he’s a big guy so he’d be mindful of his weight and wouldn’t prefer laying on top of you. however you laying on top of him is a constant.
his defined back specifically trapezius muscle acts as a perfect cushion and don’t start on his soft butt. you didn’t know he was packing all of that but it’s a nice pillow for your lower body.
if you’re not on his back he’ll grunt and argue pulling you back on him or if you insist he’ll wrap an arm around your chest for good measure. he hates being out of touch with you and constantly has some sort of contact going on.
sometimes in the middle of the night, he’ll flip over onto his back pulling you along with him in a loving embrace, your back on his chest and his arms wrapped around you.
also the type to nuzzle into your hair, loves your shampoo, will never admit it.
౨ৎ suguru (entanglement)
loves sleeping face to face hands wrapped around eachother, another enjoyer of lovers embrace. he’ll play with your hair pulling it out of the way, tching if you don’t tie it up properly but secretly loving it.
both your hair and limbs entangled, he sleeps with your face pulled flush against his chest, his chin above your head, both hands held close.
grips onto you real tight, sometimes in the middle of the night if you get up to use the restroom his hold would tighten pulling you in closer almost as if to absorb your soul.
sugurus style of love is all encompassing and he may not be as affectionate in the morning but at night this side of him shines through.
౨ৎ satoru (true romantic)
highly dislike the mischaractertization of satoru as some annoying clingy guy. he’s so affectionate a true romantic at heart.
he’ll cuddle every which way, spooning you, you spooning him, his favorite is when you lay on top of him. it soothes his mind a relaxant if you will. willingly turning off his infinity he truly embraces you.
sleeping on his back one hand on your waist while you sleep on top of him the other splayed out.
if you’re not on top of him then you’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, he won’t say it but that’s his favorite way of showing affection.
he thinks holding hands is the purest form of love and he’s not afraid to do that with you, all night every night.
౨ৎ nanami (spoon king)
will never let you spoon him, he loves holding you his grip on your waist tight and your back pulled flush against his chest, a shrimp pose if you will.
his chin on top of your head and nose buried into your hair a leg inbetween yours, i would say if any of the jjk men had to be categorized as clingy nanami would be number one.
he’s serious about this pose, it’s a constant and he has difficulty falling asleep if he’s not holding you so close to his heart, sometimes you’ll wake up with his lips pressed to your forehead. as if your lover had fallen asleep mid-kiss.
kisses you throughout the night, rubs your belly affectionately with the hand around your waist. sigh, he’s the most hopeless one out of them all.
౨ৎ sukuna (the possessor)
an image of true possesiveness, he won’t let it on, he’ll lay on his back expecting you to cling to him. furious (not really) if you don’t. he’ll pull you in with one arm tightly wrapped around your waist and the other arm behind his head.
he tries to be so casual about it, but will huff and pout if you even think of moving away. genuinely loves having your face resting on his chest and feeling your soft breaths splay out, your breathing rhythm lulling him to sleep.
the hand on your waist wanders sometimes higher to grab you between your breasts again a protective pose, or sometimes lower on your butt a slight reminder of who you belong to.
౨ৎ choso (the switch)
it’s always something new with this guy, loves being spooned and loves spooning you, but his absolute favorite is laying on top of you.
face resting on your chest, he’ll nuzzle into your breasts and hold on to the side of your waist with his hands. peppering kisses down your midline is a constant ritual before bed.
falls asleep soundly on top of you, careful to keep the bulk of his weight off of you. one hand intertwined with yours, always.
#synopsis. toji fushiguro is a quiet man, even when he was sent to prison for god knows what. but once he was released with no charges to his name, his first stop is to pay a familiar face a visit.
#tags. 18+ mdni, not proof read, afab! reader (uses of she/her), degradation, daddy kink, slapping, hair pulling, mentions of breeding, mentions of pregnancy, dubcon, choking, p/v penetration, blowjob, cunnilingus, no protection (use protection!!), themes of a stalker and being stalked (ish)
#count. 2.6k
working as a prison guard wasn't glamorous.
the days were long and filled with tedious work: routine checks with inmates who taunted or tried to hit on you, endless piles of paperwork when there were transfers or incident reports, and a gaze that never stopped watching you.
toji fushiguro's eyes were different from the rest. he was quiet, calculating—which seemed to be far more terrifying in comparison to the rowdy inmates. you never knew what he was thinking.
toji was a headache for the months he was there. not because he got into fights or tries to waste your time. no, he was observant—his eyes always following you, even when you didn't expect it to.
routine checks especially. from the moment you were in that cell all the way to when you left, his eyes would follow you. toji would drink you in—the way the slacks hugged your curves, the way you'd talk to him sternly.
by the end of the check, well, to say toji was hard would be an understatement.
weeks turn into months and nothing happens to toji. one random day, he's just...free. no trial, no investigation, no press. that was it. he was a free man. the other officers say he knew someone who knew someone who threatened that someone.
supposedly.
so, you don't think much of it when your night shift ends that day. nor when you feel a quiet rustle behind you as you walk home. after all, you live in a busy city—there's bound to be people going in the same direction as you, right?
then you see it, a figure smoking outside the entrance of the apartment complex. he's hard to miss—large, bulky, and brooding. you chew on your lip nervously, the outline familiar despite the lack of an orange jumpsuit.
you keep your hand near your baton by your belt, and for once you're glad that you haven't changed out of your uniform.
"hey, ma," toji greets you, as if it wasn't insane for an ex-inmate to follow one of the guards home.
"you followed me home?" you ask, clipped and tight. toji briefly looks at your coat, at the way it's obvious that you're gripping your baton. he almost laughs.
"no," he says, smirking. "jus' know where you live."
you freeze, glancing at the front door. it's too late at night to ask for help, the front desk was deserted. it wouldn't be a couple of hours until your cheap complex had someone out front.
"a second offense—"
"i wasn't convicted of anything, was i, sweetheart?" he takes a drag of his cigarette, raising an amused brow. "just wanted to make sure my favorite guard got home safe, 's all."
your eye twitches and really, you should be calling the nearest precinct. you should be waving your arms frantically, calling for help at the top of your lungs. toji could overpower you any day, his body was built to tower over normal folks.
but you don't. there's a hint of curiosity, what does he want? why did he pick you? in some deranged, sick way, you aren't deterred.
the kicker? toji knows this. he's seen it, in the way that the other guards mock you, the way they exclude you, the way they don't let you join their get togethers.
they're dicks, that's for sure and you—well, you've always tossed him an extra slice of bread during meal time.
and god, does toji play you like a fiddle.
"why don't you show me in, eh?" he asks with the arrogance of a man who knows you to well. who knows how this'll play out. "i'll play nice."
you blink once, twice. toji almost thinks you'll say no before he sees your arm shift from under your coat—and you've let go of your baton. when you open the door to the complex with a resident key, he bites back a smirk.
the elevator ride up to your place is tense, not for toji. no, he's relaxed, hands stuffed in his jeans that still fit him even when it was collected months ago after he first entered the prison. it's his first day out and he went to you.
in some sick way, it makes your heart flutter.
"you know," he says, watching the floors go up on the screen. "any other guard would've had their badge out by now and a gun to my head."
it's true. you're quiet. the elevator dings, signifying you've reached your designated floor.
"like you said," you murmur as you both exit the elevator. "you weren't convicted."
you walk down the corridor, toji letting out a low whistle as you both stop in front of you door.
"seems like a nice place," he says, eyeing the line of doors down the hall. it does, better than whatever flat he had before he went to prison. you let a non-committal hum, keys jingling as you let him in.
it's stupid, you think, that you're letting him into your apartment into your own private space, into a space that—quite frankly, no one will hear you if you scream and die a painful, murderous death.
but toji choose...you, right? he went to your place, waited for you outside your complex. surely, it's not to take advantage of you, right?
"cozy," toji comments, ducking slightly to enter the door. "they pay you well?"
"you'll riot if they don't?" you snort, removing your coat. something flickers behind toji's eyes. you try not to dwell on it.
"gotta change out of my uniform," you mumble, a little weakly.
"let me watch, ma," toji smirks, the way he did when he knew you were doing his routine checks. who always made sure he was hard when you pat him down.
"i can't—"
"why not?" he tilts his head. "ain't nobody stopping us."
"we can't just—"
"so many fucking rules with ya, jesus," he grumbles, making his way to you then working to remove your belt. it happens so fast, out of nowhere, that you gasp.
"toji—" you try pushing his hand away. the belt falls onto the floor, your baton making a clang against the wood.
"that's right, ma. say my name," he growls, pushing you to a nearby wall. you protest, hitting his chest. toji plants wet kisses onto your neck, rutting into you.
"toji, stop!" you try pushing him away. you try kicking his legs but it's no use—no use in trying to move this behemoth of a man.
"i saw the way you looked at me in that goddamn prision," he groans, taking a deep breath of your scent. he pushes himself closer, forcing your legs to wrap around him. you can feel how hard he is, grinding against your slacks.
"you know what a couple of months without sex does to a man like me, ma?" he whispers, voice husky and dark. you throw your head back, feeling just how needy he was.
"mhm, used to fuckin' stroke it to the thought of you, princess. i knew you heard me from my cell."
"what, no—no—"
"don't fuckin' pretend," his hold on your waist squeezing you tightly. "i know you did it for me. knew you wanted me as bad, knew you wanted me to fuck you—"
"toji—"
"just shut up and take me."
toji carries you to the kitchen counter, ripping your uniform. the buttons fly off, hitting various parts of your kitchen. you gasp, throwing your head back. toji smirks, holding you.
the ex-inmate pins you down with one hand, both your wrists fitting snugly in his hand.
"you like this, don't you?" he taunts, kissing the valley of your breasts. "fucking love that you're being controlled, that i'm bigger than you, huh? bet you love being at my mercy."
heat claws up your neck, you look away. he isn't wrong but you'd be damned if you admit it. toji lets out a dark chuckle, pulling back as he removes your slacks with one hand. you let out a soft whimper, a whine that tells him everything he needs to know.
"fuckin' watched you everyday, y'know that?" he groans, removing you from his hold. he slots himself between your legs, head just inches away from your dripping cunt. he lets out a low growl, taking a deep breath to just smell the scent of you.
"jerked off in my cell jus' hearin' you bark orders, thinkin' about how i could fucking tell you what to do, and i bet you'd listen, hm?" toji says softly.
"fuckin' hell, can you hear how wet she is for me? 's probably tired of waiting for me, probably wanted me in you—ain't that right, ma?"
he kisses your clit from over your underwear, your back arching as you feel his relentless tongue on you. your hands in his hair, tugging him closer.
"there we go," he moans. "always knew you fuckin' wanted me. she fuckin' wants me, don't she? wanted good dick, none of those limp dicks you had—"
you blush.
"that's right—heard you talkin' shit, talkin' how wet you get but no one just hits that fucking spot—"
"toji," you whine, clamping your legs around his head as he chuckles darkly.
"i know, princess. i know, jus' let me set you straight, yeah?" toji whispers, smirking as he stands. you whimper at the loss of his tongue on your folds before he starts unbuckling his belt.
you watch as he tugs the damned piece of fabric, his long, hard, cock springing free. he revels in the soft gasp you let out. toji knows he's impressive—he's hung like a horse, a long dick with an angry red tip covered in the sheen of pre-cum.
your mouth almost waters and he can tell.
"wanna taste, ma? before i split you open," he asks, but you both know it isn't a question. you're scrambling on the kitchen counter, you try to get off only for him to turn you over.
your back is against the cool material, but your world is turned upside down as he makes sure your head is on the edge of the counter and fucks your mouth.
"that's it," he grunts, hand on your throat as he watches it bulge. "let me fuck your mouth, ma. let me use you."
toji's thrusts don't start slow, he isn't a patient man. he fucks you with a fervor no other man has matched, soft gags fill the room as you slobber all over his dick.
"bet this is all you need," he whispers, groaning as he feels your throat struggle to accommodate him. "jus' some good dick, huh?"
you gurgle a response, a dark laugh escaping his lips. he keeps thrusting, throwing his head back. it feels good. after beating his cock, a warm throat feels like heaven.
you watch him through your glassy gaze, eyes watery with want as your fingers play with your clit. you moan around his cock. toji smirks, amused.
"fuckin' needy already, ain't ya?" he asks, removing his cock from your throat. before you can complain, he sits you up and carries you down from the counter only to bend you over.
toji doesn't wait, he's waited long enough. ever since he first laid eyes on you, he restrained himself. now? oh, there's nothing stopping him now.
he pushes his hard cock past you, the tip bullying it's way into your tight cunt. he groans.
"toji, wait—"
"shut up," he grunts, pushing his way in deeper. "want ya to call me daddy."
"what—"
"just fuckin' call me daddy, you whore."
"i—i—" another thrust. "oh, daddy!"
"there we go, good girl," he moans. toji feels your gummy walls tighten around his cock when he praises you. "good job, baby, takin' daddy so well."
you whimper, gripping the counter as he continues thrusting into you. soft moans escape your lips as he pushes inch after inch until he bottoms out, only for him to pull out and thrust himself back into you.
"daddy!" you moan, earning a grunt from him as he slaps your ass. he watches the fat jiggle, letting out another low groan. he fucks you slowly for a couple of strokes, to tease or for mercy, you weren't sure.
but you couldn't dwell on it for too long, not when he starts picking up the pace. you gasp, gripping the counter as he keeps his hands on your waist.
"there we fuckin' go, there's that juicy pussy screamin' for me," he moans, watching as your back arches. god, you were a sight for sore eyes. he can hardly believe you choose to be an officer in that goddamn prison.
no, from now on, he was going to keep you. you were going to be his, going to be toji's. there was no stopping it. he wouldn't let anyone else have you.
you start moaning incoherently, cunt clenching as he plows into you over and over again. he's too big that there isn't a part of your pussy untouched by his cock.
"there we go, fuckin' you stupid," he moans, tugging on your hair. you gasp, your back to his hard chest. "you goin' me be good for me, won't you, princess? gonna let daddy own you, won't cha?"
you nod stupidly, dumbly. whatever resistance you had earlier, whatever hesitation you exhibited was gone. toji's successfully fucked you into a blissed out mess.
perfect.
toji speeds up his pace,one hand in your hair and another groping the perfect tits you'd so kindly given him access to.
"gonna cum?" he whispers, and you nod—which only earns a slap on the ass from him. "answer me. use your words, princess."
"gonna cum, daddy! gonna make a mess!"
"that's it," he groans, planting soft kisses on your neck. this is exactly how he wanted you, he tugs on your tits. "gonna fill these with milk, won't we? gotta fill these with milk."
"what—"
"don't worry about it," toji groans. "don't worry about it, princess. daddy'll get you nice and pregnant, yeah? gonna breed you and you ain't gonna have to think about anythin' anymore. jus' gonna let me take care you ya, won't ya?"
"i—i—" you try to protest, you want to. a baby? in you? from an ex-inmate? it's unthinkable. but you can't speak, not when he's fucking you so well. not when he's tugging on your tits and leaving hickies all over your neck.
"jus' don't think," he whispers, his breathing growing ragged. oh, he can already imagine it. you, round with his baby. he'll help you when your tits are heavy with milk, he'll make sure his seed takes over and over again. "jus' let daddy breed ya, baby. let me make you a mommy."
you don't say anything. you can't, not when you finally feel the coil in your stomach snap. your toes curl, body spasming—and you see a flash of white that convinces you that you've seen heaven. toji is quick to follow, thrusting himself deep into you so that he's sure that you'll get pregnant.
and if you aren't? well, you've so kindly invited him into your home that he's sure he'll have the whole night to try.
"did you hear?" satoru asks suguru. it'd been a slow night, the prison hasn't had a commotion since toji left. or they hoped so, considering that they were the ones on the night shift now.
"hm?" suguru asks, taking a sip of his coffee as he looks up at satoru.
"that weird guard quit," satoru shrugs, taking the seat beside him. they were in one of the watch towers. "apparently, got pregnant."
"huh," suguru says thoughtfully, nodding. "well, there really is someone out there for everyone. congrats to her."
a/n: this was so much fun to write guys....toji my nasty nasty man <3
taglist: @hopingforgoodblogs
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Thinking about Husband!Sukuna who just lets you do whatever the fuck you want now.
There was a time when he protested. A time when he had pride, pride in being a man, in being a fearsome king, commanding respect wherever he went.
But you?
You were relentless. So utterly, absurdly relentless that at some point, he just stopped fighting it.
He had never been a man of many words, and marriage hadn’t changed that. It was only a week ago that he sat comfortably on his throne, heavy head resting in his palm as he drifted off to sleep, until he was interrupted by the sudden weight (or loss?) on his chest.
A lesser man would have panicked, but your husband? No. He merely took a long inhale, an even longer exhale, and cracked one eye open to find your tiny, mischievous hands cupping his pecs like a scientist.
“They don’t really move like mine,” you mused, experimentally bouncing the firm muscle in your grasp.
He didn’t know if the subject of this experiment was his breaking point or whatever nonsense idea had wormed its way into your head this time.
Your expression was serious, too serious, as you moved in front of him, gripping the hem of his robe as if a scholar prepped for a dissertation.
“May I remove this?”
His eyes, half-lidded with the dull exhaustion that only centuries of being a king could bring, slowly trailed to meet yours. His lips pressed into a flat line.
You took his silence as consent.
And soon enough, his shirt was discarded, leaving him bare from the waist up as you squinted in intense concentration, leaning in close to his chest.
It was pathetic, really. The size difference. Your husband was a mountain of a man, yes, his frame large enough to dwarf yours entirely. And yet, there you were, fingers struggling to span across his tits as you earnestly attempted to jiggle them, as if you could replicate your own softness on his ironclad frame.
At one point, you had both of his pecs squished together, testing them like some critical judge at a livestock competition.
“Wow, you’re a lot different than me.”
Oh, his lovely wife. His lovely wife, who was genuinely comparing her milk-producing breasts to those of a war-hardened king.
Oh, the patience he had for you.
And despite the sheer disrespect you continually brought upon the honor of Sukuna, the King, the Conqueror, the Lord of Curses…
He still let you.
And it never stopped.
Because right now, right this very moment, he was balls-deep inside you, your knees pinned to your chest as he fucked you senseless, guttural moans echoing in the grand chamber as he pounded into your dripping cunt.
The nights the lord would bed his wife was always the same, multiple orgasms, a sore throat, bruises painting your skin like a lover’s signature, and the brutal satisfaction of a man who knew he could ruin you.
There couldn’t have been a worse time, a worse thought, and for the first time in his life, Sukuna wished, prayed, for something to be different about his wife.
“W-wait, ‘Kuna- fuck- wait-!”
Because he never wanted you in pain, never wanted you to feel anything but pleasure despite the sixth climax of the night barreling toward him, he reluctantly halted.
Oh, may the lords above grant him the strength.
Because you, thoroughly fucked out, hair knotted, sweat glistening across your body, brought your trembling hands forward,
and groped his fucking tits.
Like he was some toy for you to hold onto.
“Okay, continue.”
He stilled. In shock? In horror? In spiritual agony?
Slowly, he tried to thwart at your hands, momentarily lifting one from under your knee, but-
“No, I said continue.”
That’s right. Your wish was his command.
So he continued. And every time his cock rammed deep into your walls, every time you moaned so sinfully, your little hands squeezed tighter.
It was almost comical, your soft, delicate fingers clutching at his immovable chest as if this was your god-given right.
With a grunt, he muttered, “Why must you do this?” His brows furrowed, thrusts becoming punishing.
Through your breathless whimpers, you somehow managed, “Ngh- I just- oh, god- like them.”
His cock twitched at your honesty.
His breasts flexing in tandem.
And when your shaking fingers dared to pinch his nipple…
Oh, that was when the real fun began.
“Fuck, don’t- fuck-” He spat through gritted teeth.
Neither of you could ignore the way his back arched the tiniest bit, the way his thrusts faltered for a split second as your fingers toyed with him.
You were too far gone to form coherent sentences, let alone fucking laugh, but your lips curled in amusement, jaw slack as the wet pat-pat-pat of his cock slamming into you filled the air.
“You think this shit is funny?”
His hold on you shifted. With inhuman ease, he lifted your legs, pressing them together straight up in the air, holding your feet in a single massive hand while his other gripped your thigh in a vice.
The new position devastating.
His thick cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, punching deep into your cunt, the head kissing your cervix with every pump.
It was enough to wreck you, your body shuddering as your next orgasm tore through you like divine wrath.
And Sukuna, normally composed and always in control, was panting.
As you both lay side by side afterward, spent and breathless, a singular, intrusive thought carved its way into your little head.
“...Can I be big spoon tonight?”
He didn’t respond, simply sighing and rolling onto his side. Letting you attempt to wrap your arms around his impossibly broad back.
Oh, his lovely, sweet wife.
Your hand reached down, fingers splaying, grabbing a handful of his ass.
A slow, agonizing inhale.
Then a measured, exasperated exhale.
“...No more tonight. Please.”
You couldn’t see his face, your own buried between his shoulder blades.
But maybe, juuust maybe, someone, somewhere, could say there was the barest twitch of a smile on his lips.
⁞ɞ⁞ tags & cw ⟶ 18+ NSFW ; obsessive char, loverboy sukuna, p in v, oral (fem & male receiving), teasing, pussydrunk!sukuna, some fluff too
⁞ɞ⁞ pairing ⟶ wifelover!sukuna x fem!reader
⁞ɞ⁞ a/n ⟶ Didn't proofread, but this man haunts my thoughts and he'll be the death of me so here we have husband sukuna, enjoy ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝
wifelover!sukuna who has a little garden made just for you. Everytime you absentmindedly mention how a flower looks pretty, the next day you somehow find a whole batch in your garden. You've teased him a few times about it, but he simply brushed it off, pinching your cheek.
wifelover!sukuna who can't stand staying away from you. He always has you by his side, doesn't matter if you actually want to be there or not. He'll keep you on his lap, arms around your waist and chin resting on your head, as he goes about his day. He'll occasionally let his hands wander, or nip at your earlobe, causing your face to flush.
wifelover!sukuna who reminds you just how terrifying he can be, when he's devouring your pussy, groaning and moaning untill someone decides to interrupt him by knocking. He eats you out like a man starved, an annoyed groan as he grips your thighs, he reluctantly pulls away, shooting a terrifying glare at the door. Seems it could be felt by the person on the other side, for you could hear footsteps rushing away. He turned his head back to your drenched cunt, both from his spit and your own fluids. His face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily. "Now, where were we?" He said gruffly, digging back in. His tongue flattened against your clit, two long fingers filling you up, ripping a moan out of you as your hands tangled in his hair. You were in for a long night.
wifelover!sukuna who just finds you so utterly stunning, like you're an angel sent down on earth just for him. Even when you're crying so prettily under him, his fat cock plunging in that spot that makes you toes curl, over and over and over again. He loves the lost look on your face as you moan and dig your nails in his back. His mouth finds one of your nipples, biting down on it just soothe it with his tongue. His hand grips your hip, while the other travels up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. "That's it, keep singing oh so sweetly for me, wife."
wifelover!sukuna who actually folds so fast for you. You'd run your hand through his hair, sitting between his legs as you just play with it, styling it. You'd tell him maybe he looked better with a certain hairstyle, and suddenly he'd be wearing his hair like that every single day.
wifelover!sukuna who is extremely possessive. When you hire a gardener for the garden your loving husband got you, of course you're bound to speak to him. He's a sweet man, really, but Sukuna doesn't appreciate someone taking his wife's time away from him. He walks towards the two of you, the blood draining from the gardener's face at the way your husband stands ominously behind you. One of his hands found your hip, gripping the soft flesh to pull you back against him, while his other hand gripped your chin, tilting your head back to look at him. Your face was certainly flushed, in his eyes you could only see jealousy and possessiveness. He didn't even bother sparing a glance at the gardener. "I'm afraid I'll have to interrupt" He spoke, almost sarcastic, yet firm "I require my wife's attention right now." The gardner promptly fled the scene after that.
wifelover!sukuna who actually craves your attention, taking your hand and guiding it to his head as he lays it on your lap, demanding you to play with it. Or when you kiss his cheek, his eyes have that sparkle in them as he taps your cheek, staring up at you. "Again." You suppress your giggle, smiling as you tilt your head. "Say the magic word, kuna?" That only earns a frown from your husband, as he groans, looking away. "I'm not doing that. Kiss me again, wife, or I'll do it myself." Needless to say that a "please" slipped out of him in between kisses.
wifelover!sukuna who isn't above getting teased. He'd always been probing and touching you, it would be fair if you got back at him. So when your lips wrap around his cock, taking the huge length in, he can only throw his head back. He's a big scary man, but he's putty in your hands. He could cum just from this feeling alone. His hands find your hair, gripping it as he groans. "Fuck- Stop teasing me, wife." He breathes out the words like a plea, and you just tease him further, pulling aalll the way back to kiss his flushed tip. His hips twitch upwards, and he looks down at you with a hungry, pleading gaze. "No more playing, dear. "He says, voice rough as he guides your mouth back on his cock. You tease him for being so needy, which promptly earns you a good needy fuck after.
