𓂃⋆.˚ ( jjk ) applying pheromone perfume around him ! ⤷ ゛gojo, geto, nanami, toji, (heian era) sukuna, shiu, higuruma, choso, yutaˎˊ˗
tw: suggestive, mention of viagra jokingly | wc: 4k | | notes: repost/rewrite from old acc | art by @/_suracii_
masterlists
satoru gojo calls out "i'm home!" into the house from the front door.
you're so giddy with excitement you almost forget to reply. "welcome back! i've got dinner going, just wash up," you tell him, making yourself look busy by unnecessarily opening the pot lids and stirring.
"hhh, i wanna sleep and never wake up again," he sighs exaggeratedly, hobbling over to wrap his arms around your waist and press gentle kisses to your neck. you know you've got him when he slows his ministrations and just rests his face in the crook of your neck, sniffing continuously.
"is that a new perfume?" he asks, brushing his thumb across your lower stomach and gripping you tighter when you squeal and protest that it tickles.
"i've been in the kitchen for the past two hours, i don't think what you're smelling is perfume, per se," you joke, almost yelping and slapping him in the face when he noses at the sensitive skin of your jugular. he slowly tugs you away from the stove and turns you in his arms, resuming his assault on your neck. "you, mmm, smell so nice," he groans.
you have to steady yourself by reaching behind you to grab the counter, your grip tight, biting your bottom lip when he starts to nip at your flesh. "satoru, that hurts," you whimper, albeit not resisting his affections, only wincing every time his canines dig their way into your scented skin.
"sorry, baby," he rasps, inhaling deeply. he presses an apologetic kiss to the marks on your neck before pulling away and running a hand over his face. his pupils are blown, his lips wet from licking them so much. you're almost scared to ask if he's alright.
you laugh at his expression instead, a smile of his own stretching his lips at the sound. he kisses your cheek and traces his thumbs over your hip bones.
while he tries oh so hard to listen to you talk about your day, he can't help but swallow thickly every time you turn your head or shift closer to him, your sweet aroma wafting towards him.
"can we skip dinner?"
"no, you are not having dessert first."
"please?"
"...go shower first."
you quickly roll the perfume on your neck and wrists, hurriedly checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror and inhaling deeply to prepare yourself for whatever outcome was awaiting you.
"my love, can you come here?" suguru geto calls out from his study, frustration evident in his voice.
"coming!" you hide the perfume somewhere reliable and head upstairs. when you enter his study, he's pacing, his forehead tense and tie loosened around his neck. he lights up somewhat at the sight of you, before asking, "have you seen the papers i was grading?"
you relax. "yeah, i hid them away from your..." you motion towards the three mugs on his desk, still stained with coffee from hours ago, "mess." that earns you a sheepish smile from him, and you shake your head fondly before retrieving said papers from one of his file cabinets. he sighs in relief and takes them from you, pressing a grateful kiss to your lips.
"i don't know what i'd do without you," he laughs, wrapping an arm around your neck and kissing your temple. you lean into his embrace and let him rest his chin on your head for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall with a deep intake of breath. he tends to become more affectionate when he's under a lot of stress, and you can see a slight tremble in his hand as he places the papers on the desk behind him.
his brows furrow. "i may be caffeine-blooded right now, but do you smell different?" he asks, inhaling the scent drifting from your neck. "is this the one i bought you?"
you squirm when he lowers his head to your collarbone, his large hands resting on your lower back to steady you. leaning back, you allow him further access, while also being mindful of your own intentions.
"no, uh, this one's from the drugstore." geto starts to push your hair behind your ear and nibble at your adam's apple, your hands finding leverage on his broad shoulders. "careful!" you scold when he presses you against the cabinet behind you.
he pauses his kisses to gaze up at you through his lashes, a brow raised in question of your small smile.
"what?" you feign innocence.
geto catches the glint in your eye and has a relative idea of what you've done.
"you temptress."
before coming home from work, you applied some of the perfume in your car and take one last sniff of it when you step onto the welcome mat at your front door. you kick your heels off and announce yourself, to which you hear kento nanami say, "in the living room."
throwing your bag on the floor beside your heels, you rush to your husband as fast as you can with the ache in your feet, finding him engrossed in a book with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. you throw your arms around his neck from behind with a loud exhale of breath, nuzzling your cheek into his hair.
"kentooo, i missed you so much," you whine, feeling his hands reach up to rest on yours.
his deep chuckle resonates through you. "as did i, sweetheart. i'm glad you're home safe."
you unbutton your blazer and toss it over the back of the couch before throwing yourself down beside him, snuggling into his side. nanami places his book down on the coffee table before leaning down, back bent, to kiss you. he groans into it and gently brushes your hair out of your face.
after the prolonged intimate moment, you pull away and let him tug you closer, allowing your head to fall on his shoulder.
"you smell nice," he mutters, kissing your hairline.
"thanks."
you expect him to tell you about his day, or at least about the book he's reading—as he usually does. instead, he's quiet, not uncharacteristically so, but enough for you to notice small changes like the tightening of his grip on you.
he lifts his head and looks you over. "what perfume brand is that? it's," he clears his throat, "very strong."
you pout. "a bad strong?"
"...not exactly."
nanami wraps an arm around your shoulders, humming lowly when you angle your body just so to let your legs stretch out over his lap. he begins massaging your calves and, unsubtly, glances at you every so often.
"what?"
"nothing," he responds, a little too quickly, you notice. you can tell that he's picked up on the intoxicating aspect of the scent and it makes it very hard to contain your smile.
it's silent for a moment, before nanami curses under his breath and dives in to kiss you again, catching you immensely off guard. you whimper into the notably rougher, needier kiss. he takes advantage of your released noises and slips his tongue past your lips, a kiss that was just needy now turned sloppy. hell, you feel yourself start to drool.
when you part for air, he takes his glasses off and tosses them onto the table, before leaning over you and forcing you to lay back on the couch. "i know you've done something," he rasps, "but as of right now..." he starts kissing your neck, "i don't have the sense to figure out what."
you've devised a plan on how to tempt toji fushiguro more than you already do—by rolling on the perfume you have seen people rave about online for the past month. only, you need a way to get toji to smell it without making it completely obvious as to what you're doing.
so while he's lounging on the couch, scratching his chest and staring at the tv absentmindedly, you decide to shroud your plan under the guise of making him something to snack on. you grab whatever you find in the pantry and decorate a plate with it, making it look somewhat appetising, before placing it before him on the coffee table.
the corner of his lips twitch. "you're too good to me, ma." he pulls you into his lap and pecks your lips. "thank you."
"of course. was thinking takeout for lunch. what do you think?" he hums in the affirmative and slides a hand along your waist to rest on the soft expanse of your stomach.
you lean into his chest, letting his calloused albeit comforting touch lull you into a sense of relaxation, even as the sound of gunshots ring from the tv and blast into your ears. the moment seems to draw out without him picking up on your scent, so you shift in his lap and lean slightly closer into his chest, making it seem as though you want to cuddle (which, hey, you do, but it doubles as the perfect excuse to let your aroma drift closer to him).
when he bites into a small slab of chocolate, he catches sight of your anticipatory expression from his peripheral vision. he swallows, brow raised. "these some of those viagra-chocolates, or what? you're lookin' like you wanna jump my bones."
"what—i don't wanna 'jump your bones,' toji." you roll your eyes and grab his jaw to forcibly turn his gaze back to the tv.
"so you wanna tell me why you're givin' me those eyes?"
"what eyes? can i not admire you?" you retort gently, but don't fail to notice the way his hand on your stomach pulls you closer. only then does he lean down and start sniffing consciously.
"damn," he groans. "what the hell do you have on, ma? got me scenting you 'n everything."
"nothinggg," you whine, feeling him tug you even closer so that your back presses up against his chest. you try your best to keep your attention limited to the tv, but it's growing harder to do so when he starts nipping at and kissing your neck. "i'm trying to watch, baby."
"nah, we can do that later," is all he says before pushing you flat on the couch, crawling up your body and lowering his face to yours. "think i need to investigate a little more to figure out what you're plotting."
"n—"
"if you say 'nothing' again, i will throw you over my knee."
your lady in waiting was noticeably hesitant to let you go through with this, but instead of vetoing it with more than just words, she watches you with pursed lips and underlying curiosity as you roll the perfume on your neck, wrists, and behind your ears. it wasn't as if ryomen sukuna would kill you for this—you're his wife, for heaven's sake. frankly, you were giddy at the thought of what he might do upon catching on to your little scheme.
so, later, when you're in your chambers watching sukuna loosen the tie of his robe and approach you with heavy steps, you're practically jumping out of your skin with anticipation.
"wife," he starts, voice gruff, "i expect that no mishaps disturbed your day?" the king of curses always checks up on you, but you know that if anything or anyone were to upset you, he would deal with whatever or whoever it was without you hearing of it. a formality, of sorts, that he should check up on his wife's wellbeing. a requirement, that he should deal with your concerns without burdening you.
"of course not," you insist. "a new child join the nursery today. quite the shy one, he is. poor boy didn't know a whisper of tongue."
he huffs in acknowledgement of your small predicament. one of his upper arms encircle your waist to lift you to his chest, prompting you to wrap your arms and legs around him—your usual routine after finally being able to retire to your chambers after the monotonous responsibilities that awaited the two of you daily.
one of his lower arms slides under your ass to hold you up, not that he needed the extra leverage; the arm around your waist was enough. but any excuse to have his arms around you without coming off as too clingy, he would take without so much as a hint that he enjoyed it.
it's when your head slips under his chin to rest against his collarbone does he comment. "are you experimenting with herbs again?" he grunts, sitting you in his lap once he's settled on the futon with his back against the wall.
your head tilts slightly. "no, my love. why do you ask?"
"you reek."
"how kind of you, ryomen."
"you have never known me to be kind, woman. explain yourself."
"if you must know, i have applied some incense. i only recently had it delivered from that dear old vendor in ichihime."
sukuna doesn't speak for a moment, allowing himself to be lured closer to your fragranced skin. when you feel his tongue lap at your neck experimentally, you flinch and smack his chest reproachingly.
"it is not the worst of them."
from the king of curses, that was very high praise.
and from the way his pupils dilate, you're certain he isn't going to let you off with a simple lick to your neck.
if there was one person you loved pulling this crap on, it was shiu kong. you never saw the man without his phone pressed to his ear and a cigarette dangling from in between his lips, so it made it all the more satisfying when you managed to get the jump on him and make him lose grip on his usual nonchalance.
you should be home by now, ordering takeout and binging your favourite show with your feet up, not still in the office with the man who seems to love work-life more than home-life.
"shiuuu," you call out from your own cubicle, as if you don't already know that he's taking a call and he's more likely to subconsciously tune you out than even consider that his wife may be looking for him. it's nothing personal; you're very much aware that years of working as a catalyst for murder and assassinations changes your priorities.
when you knock on his ajar door to get his attention, he glances over at you and nods, beckoning you inside with his index and middle finger. you shut the door behind you and approach his desk with measured steps, approaching him intently.
you reach up to caress his cheek, letting the perfume on your wrist waft into his nostrils, and smile (not so) innocently at him when he turns his head and kisses your palm.
the scent hits him like a dopamine hit and his voice instantly loses its clarity. he doesn't start stuttering, by any means, but his right leg starts bouncing. when he physically turns his head away from you, you know you could start trashing the place and he wouldn't say a thing—only stare at you with that intoxicated gaze of sheer want.
sighing, you round his desk to be in his line of sight again.
"no, fushiguro, you either keep this under wraps or forget about the 40mil... what? no, we can't have a celebratory dinner. i'd rather chew on a jean jacket than—"
you bat your lashes at him.
"i'll call you back."
and within the second that it takes him to hang up and toss his phone aside, shiu has launched himself on you, fuelled by the giggles of a woman who knows what she's doing to him—while he is entirely oblivious to the fact that the fog enveloping his mind is directly from the perfume he inhaled not more than a minute ago.
"you," he rasps, pawing at your waist and even further down your body, "are a problem."
"mm, is that what you call me now?"
"oh, shut it," he practically growls, but there's anything but malice in his voice—just the deep baritones of a man overcome by desire.
hiromi higuruma was the person you were most determined needed this distraction. it was getting to a point where your dates turned into facetime calls and hour-long texting sessions, and, frankly, you wanted more. it's not to say that you were sick of it, but being with a man like higuruma meant you had needs and his attention was all you needed.
he's been cooped up in his home office for the past six hours, leaving only to go to the bathroom or check up on you (which consisted of him asking, "what are you up to, darling?", kissing your cheek, then heading back up to continue his hermit-ing). is it really so out of the ordinary for you to crave more?
no. so you do something about it.
besides you, coffee is the one thing higuruma would invite as a distraction; if the eight empty mugs on his desk were anything to go by. so, you deliver your gorgeous self with a fresh brew to his office door. you knock, just in case he's taking a call, and enter when he calls you in.
he's tired, that much is clear, but he's reserved enough strength to smile softly as you approach him.
"hi, my love. thought i'd bring you another. and clean all this," you say, picking up the dirty mugs and placing them by the window.
"no need. i'll wash them myself," he insists, humming lowly when you stand near him again, this time enough to stroke a hand through his hair.
but, when you first lift your hand to do so, the perfume on your wrist permeates the air and wriggles into the radius of his senses.
"new fragrance?"
"mhm. you like?"
he inhales deeply, and you take that as a hard yes. "yeah. amber musk?"
you grin. "something like that."
higuruma, for all his assertiveness, grabs your hand tenderly, enough to make you miss him despite the skin-to-skin contact. he presses it to his cheek but turns his head just so that he may lavish your palm with kisses (and perhaps breathe in your new scent like it's oxygen).
"it's... really nice," he breathes out, practically gasping at the reprieve you've given him. "forgive me—just let me feel you."
and you do, all the while leaning against the edge of his desk and blood heating at his touch. hell, you intended for this to happen; you're not about to close the door in your own face. you need this as much as he does.
he practically falls into a state of delirium as he kisses every sliver of skin he detects, his breath laboured and hot on your flesh. it's enough of a rush to know that you bring this man to his knees—literally and figuratively—let alone feel him touch you almost reverently.
"work's tough, huh?"
he groans into the plush skin of your stomach. that's also a hard yes.
"you smell so good, my love. i think i can go another six hours just off the scent of you alone."
"let me help you with that, then," you whisper, and that's all the encouragement he needs to loosen his tie and let himself get lost in you.
the biggest difficulty of pulling this off was getting choso kamo off your back for longer than a minute to spritz your pulse points with the new perfume you just had delivered. you'd be damned if you weren't going to engage with the newest trend flooding your socials, especially when this one was actually good.
"baby, what's that smell?" choso calls out from the bedroom.
you shove the small bottle into one of the bathroom cabinets and try to slow your steps as you walk back into the bedroom with a small smile. "just some perfume, baby. i like applying some before bed, remember?"
"i remember, but this one smells different. a-a good different," he quickly emphasises.
choso looks so stiff, not making any effort to get into the bed he so carefully prepared for the night, and confines his attention to you and—gosh—that sweet scent.
"you okay?" you ask, lifting the covers and slipping into bed, prompting him to finally do the same as if you snapped your fingers in his entranced face.
"yeah, i'm alright. i'm... i'm okay."
he assumes his usual sleeping position, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his front to your back. all the better for him to catch on, you muse. and if he doesn't, i'm reporting the video that inspired me to do this crap.
a prolonged pause then nips at your nerves, a stark contrast to the nightly and practically autonomous mumbles of "good night," "i love you," and "sleep well." the silence is so thick that it settles behind your eyes and makes it impossible to even consider falling asleep.
but, it's not that choso hasn't noticed. no, the poor man is drowning in your scent, so unsure of how to comment on it without making it seem as though it's bothering him—even though it is, a lot.
"b-baby?" he whispers into your hair.
"hm?"
"you smell really nice. it's... making me restless."
you smile tiredly. "i can tell. do you need help?"
though it's dark and your back is turned so you cannot see it, his eyes widen slightly. "you mean...?"
"mhm. i don't mind staying up another hour."
he sits up. "can we make it two?"
"don't push it."
"mmm, okay, sorry."
okkotsu yuta is always more than happy to oblige your hobbies, your cravings, even. he doesn't see temper loss as an option with you, not because he has to suppress the urge to snap, but because he cannot find it within the darkest depths of his soul to direct his frustration at you—and you've seen him mad. just never at you.
that's why you don't have to worry about pulling something like this. the man is already infatuated with you, this whole thing was entirely unnecessary. but when did you ever do these things out of necessity?
"hey, honey? can you come here for a sec?"
yuta is in the kitchen within seconds, already approaching you from behind. "i'm here, dove. what d'ya need?"
he just sounds happy to be there, to be of any assistance to you, and you're more than geeked at the reality prospect of having him follow you around for the rest of his days.
"can you grab those cookies for me?" you pout, while making absolutely zero effort to reach for them.
he looks up at the open cabinet, then back down at you. "you've never had a problem before. did you hurt your arm? let me see—"
"no, honey," you interject, laughing breathily. "just not bothered."
he nods like that's a completely acceptable excuse—you won't let anyone tell you that it's not—and reaches for the plastic box before placing it on the counter in front of you. "there."
you hum in satisfaction and take a cookie, bringing it up to his lips. "try them. they're new."
your wrist brushes against his chin and the underside of his nose. it gives him very brief pause, but then he's biting into the baked good as if nothing is amiss. you notice the subtle hitch in his breath when he inhales and almost groan in annoyance when he does little more.
"they're a little too sweet for my liking," he notes out loud.
with a doubtful look, you say, "they're only sweetened with coconut oil and dark chocolate."
he purses his lips in consideration, brows furrowed. "are you sure? where's all the sweetness from then?"
"external, ahem, sources."
your wrist manages to sway past his nose again, and that's when he registers that you not only smell of musk, but have an aroma that would make a lesser mammal believe you are the embodiment of a baked good.
"i might need to start calling you honey," he murmurs, now delving his head into the crook of your neck, where he gets another gust of that luscious scent.
you snort. "you're so corny."
"i am... something that rhymes with that, yeah." he smiles sheepishly.
you roll your eyes. "point proven."
