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this blog contains both sfw and nsfw content — proceed at your own discretion.
he didn't got it for himself, but his daughter found the cat abandoned and at first he hated the feline telling her bring it back where she got it. of course, his daughter has him wrapped around her fingers and had no choice but to let her adopt it
then as time passed, heian!sukuna would soften for the cat like he would secretly give it treats and would let it sit on his lap while he's in his throne room and sometimes even carrying it around the hallways of the shrine
after his near death in shibuya, you and kento decided to fulfill his dream of moving to kuantan
starring. nanami kento x fem!reader
genre. romance, slight angst.
wc. 5.5k
cw. mentions of shibuya incident
author's note: recovered this fic in my drafts
The first thing you noticed every morning wasn't the sound of traffic or distant sirens anymore. It was the ocean. Gentle waves rolled onto the shore in an endless rhythm, accompanied by the cries of seabirds circling overhead and the rustling of palm trees swaying in the warm Malaysian breeze. Sunlight filtered through the linen curtains, spilling across the wooden floorboards as the scent of salt drifted in through the open windows. Some mornings, you still had to remind yourself that this wasn't a dream. This was home.
Kuantan.
Years ago, Kento had mentioned this place so casually that you almost thought he was joking. The two of you had been cleaning your apartment after dinner, the television humming quietly in the background while he loosened his tie with the familiar exhaustion of another day spent exorcising curses.
"I heard the beaches here are beautiful," he had said as he dried a plate before placing it in the cabinet.
You glanced over your shoulder. "Where?"
"Malaysia."
"...Malaysia?"
"Kuantan."
You laughed, shaking your head. "You've already chosen a city?"
"It seemed practical."
"You've put way too much thought into this."
"I have."
"So you've actually planned your retirement?"
"Not planned," he corrected. "Imagined."
Back then, retirement felt like a fantasy. Sorcerers rarely lived long enough to think about growing old, much less buying a house by the sea. There was always another mission waiting, another curse to exorcise, another funeral to attend. Even on his days off, Kento carried himself like someone expecting his phone to ring at any moment. You often caught him staring absentmindedly out the apartment window, and although he never complained, you knew the weight he carried home after every assignment.
Neither of you imagined that Shibuya would force the future to arrive sooner than expected.
The memories still lingered no matter how much time had passed. You could still remember the suffocating smell of smoke clinging to your clothes, the frantic shouting of medics weaving through crowds of injured civilians, and the unbearable hours spent outside the operating room after they pulled Kento from the ruins. The doctors had warned you that the burns covering nearly half of his body were severe. They couldn't promise how much function he would regain, nor could they erase the scars that would remain for the rest of his life. All you could do was sit beside his hospital bed, listening to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and praying it wouldn't stop.
When he finally woke several days later, his first concern wasn't himself.
"...You're alright?"
Your composure shattered instantly.
"You idiot," you whispered, clutching his bandaged hand as tears blurred your vision. "I thought I lost you."
He looked at you with tired eyes, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."
"You almost died."
"I know."
"You almost left me."
"I know."
Silence settled between you before he spoke again, quieter this time.
"...I don't think I can go back."
You looked at him for a long moment before tightening your hold on his hand.
"Then don't."
He frowned slightly, almost as though he expected you to argue.
"...Just like that?"
"There isn't anything left for us there that matters more than you."
For the first time since the incident, the tension in his shoulders eased. It wasn't a dramatic moment. There were no grand declarations or promises. Only a quiet understanding shared between two people who had spent years waiting for permission to choose themselves.
A month later, while standing on the balcony of your apartment overlooking Tokyo's skyline, Kento spoke again.
"Do you remember Kuantan?"
You smiled before answering.
"The beaches?"
He nodded.
"I wasn't joking."
"I know."
"I still want to go."
You slipped your hand into his without a second thought.
"Then let's go."
And that was exactly what you did.
Leaving Tokyo wasn't as difficult as either of you had expected. Once the decision had been made, everything else simply fell into place. The apartment that had been your home for years was slowly emptied one room at a time, each box carrying away another piece of the life the two of you were leaving behind. Furniture was sold, books were carefully packed, and anything that couldn't make the trip found a new owner. By the end, the once-lived-in apartment echoed with every step, stripped down until only memories remained.
Kento's retirement pension from Jujutsu High was generous—more generous than either of you had anticipated. Combined with the savings the two of you had spent years putting aside for a future that never seemed guaranteed, it was enough to start over. Neither of you was looking for luxury. All Kento had ever wanted was a quiet life, and after everything Shibuya had taken from him, you wanted nothing more than to give him exactly that.
It took nearly a month of searching before you found the house.
The realtor had shown you several properties along the coast, but none of them felt quite right. Some were too close to the city, surrounded by busy roads and crowded beaches, while others required more repairs than either of you could realistically manage. Just when you were beginning to think you'd have to compromise, she suggested one last property a little farther from town.
The moment you stepped out of the car, the sound of the ocean greeted you.
Not traffic.
Not voices.
Just the steady rhythm of waves meeting the shore.
The house itself wasn't extravagant. It was a modest two-story beach house with whitewashed walls, weathered wooden shutters, and a spacious veranda overlooking the sea. Bougainvillea climbed along the fence, their vibrant pink blossoms spilling over the stone wall, while a pair of coconut trees swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze. Time had worn away at the paint in places, but the house carried the kind of warmth that couldn't be replicated by something newly built.
You turned to Kento, who had wandered onto the veranda without saying a word.
"So?" you asked, folding your arms with a smile. "What do you think?"
He rested his forearms against the wooden railing, his gaze fixed on the endless stretch of blue before him. The breeze caught the ends of his blond hair as he stood there in comfortable silence, taking everything in.
"...It's quiet," he finally said.
"That's all?"
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "It's exactly how I imagined it."
That was all the answer you needed.
The paperwork was finalized within the week.
Settling into your new home took time, but neither of you minded. Most of your furniture had been sold before leaving Japan, leaving the house feeling almost empty at first. Together, you spent your days assembling bookshelves, unpacking kitchenware, and deciding where every piece of furniture should go. Kento insisted on carrying the heavier boxes despite his still-recovering body, earning more than one disapproving look from you.
"Kento."
"I'm fine."
"You said that five boxes ago."
"I was fine five boxes ago."
"And now?"
"...Slightly less fine."
You sighed, walking over to take the box from his hands despite his quiet protests. "You survived Shibuya. I'm not letting you throw your back out over a bookshelf."
"I don't think that's a fair comparison."
"It is to me."
He didn't argue after that.
A few weeks later, the two of you wandered through the nearby town in search of somewhere to buy breakfast when a small bakery tucked away on a quiet street corner caught your attention. The display windows were filled with handwritten signs announcing a closing sale, while the warm aroma of butter and freshly baked bread drifted through the open door.
Curiosity led you inside.
Behind the counter stood an elderly woman arranging the last few loaves on the display shelf. She greeted you with a gentle smile, explaining that after nearly forty years of running the bakery with her late husband, she had finally decided it was time to retire. Business had remained steady over the years, but age had made the long hours increasingly difficult, and there was no one left to inherit the shop.
"I've had offers," she admitted over cups of freshly brewed tea, "but most people want to renovate it into another café. My husband built those ovens himself." She rested her hand affectionately against the old brick oven at the back of the shop before smiling to herself. "I'd like to think someone will continue what we started."
You found your eyes drifting toward Kento.
He had been unusually quiet since walking through the door, his attention lingering on every detail of the bakery. The worn wooden shelves, the neatly arranged pastries behind the glass display, the faint scent of yeast lingering in the warm air—it was as though he was trying to picture what the place had looked like decades ago.
"You like it," you said once the elderly woman disappeared into the kitchen.
He glanced at you before looking around the shop once more. "...I do."
"Because it smells like bread?"
He gave you a look. "...Among other things."
You laughed. "I was hoping for something more sentimental."
"It feels peaceful."
There it was.
The simple honesty that had always been so distinctly Kento.
The decision came easier than either of you expected. Within the month, the paperwork had been completed, and the little bakery officially belonged to the two of you. Before signing the final documents, however, you asked the elderly woman if she would mind if you renovated parts of the bakery.
"I don't want to erase what you and your husband built," you reassured her. "But we'd like to make a few changes so we can run it the way we've envisioned."
The elderly woman looked around the bakery, her eyes lingering fondly on the faded walls and worn wooden floors that had witnessed decades of early mornings and smiling customers. She chuckled softly before shaking her head.
"My dear," she said warmly, "this bakery is almost as old as I am."
You couldn't help but laugh with her.
"It has seen better days," she continued, gently running her fingers along the countertop. "I've simply grown too attached to notice how run-down it's become." Her smile softened. "As long as you don't take away its heart, you have my blessing."
You reached across the table to squeeze her hand.
"We won't."
"Promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Keep it feeling like home."
You smiled.
"I promise."
Over the following weeks, the bakery slowly transformed. The faded paint was replaced with warm cream-colored walls, new lighting brightened the once-dim interior, and the aging furniture was lovingly restored whenever possible instead of replaced. A few new tables and comfortable chairs were added near the windows, allowing customers to linger over coffee and fresh pastries while watching the town wake up each morning.
Rather than changing the bakery into something unrecognizable, you and Kento chose to let its history remain part of its identity. The old brick oven built by the elderly woman's late husband became the centerpiece of the café, carefully preserved instead of modernized. Framed photographs of the original owners throughout the years lined one wall, accompanied by handwritten recipes they had graciously allowed you to display. Their vintage coffee grinder, well-worn rolling pin, and the weathered wooden sign that had once hung above the entrance were cleaned, restored, and displayed throughout the café as small reminders of the people who had built the place from the ground up.
When the elderly woman visited for the grand reopening, she stood quietly near the entrance, taking everything in.
The bakery looked brighter.
Warmer.
More spacious.
Yet somehow...
It still felt exactly the same.
She walked slowly toward the wall where an old black-and-white photograph of her and her husband now hung inside a simple wooden frame. Beneath it rested a small brass plaque engraved with the words:
Established with love.
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
"You kept him here."
Kento stepped beside you, his hands tucked comfortably into the pockets of his apron.
"It wouldn't have felt right otherwise."
She looked around one final time, smiling as customers chatted over cups of coffee while the familiar scent of fresh bread filled the room.
"It still feels like home," she whispered.
You smiled.
"That's because it always will be."
The bakery quickly became a beloved part of the neighborhood once again. Many of the regulars who had visited for decades returned out of curiosity, only to leave with relieved smiles after realizing the little shop they had grown up with hadn't disappeared—it had simply begun a new chapter. They often thanked you and Kento for preserving the bakery instead of replacing it with another trendy café, admitting that they had been worried the place would lose the warmth that had made it special in the first place.
"You've given it another life," one elderly customer told you one morning while accepting her usual loaf of milk bread. "I know she'd be happy."
The previous owner still stopped by every now and then, always insisting she was "just passing through," though she inevitably ended up sitting by the window with a cup of coffee while chatting with familiar faces. Watching her smile as the bakery buzzed with laughter and conversation reassured you that you had kept your promise.
Before officially stepping away, she had spent weeks teaching both you and Kento every recipe she and her husband had perfected over the last forty years. She patiently corrected your techniques, scribbled little notes in the margins of her recipe book, and insisted that good bread wasn't simply measured by ingredients, but by the love and patience poured into each loaf. Once you had mastered the classics, she encouraged the two of you to add recipes of your own.
"You shouldn't spend your lives copying ours," she had told you one afternoon. "Every bakery carries the story of the people who run it."
So alongside her signature butter rolls, coconut buns, and pandan loaves, new additions slowly found their place in the display case. Kento experimented with different European-style breads he had grown fond of during his years in Japan, while you introduced pastries inspired by recipes you had always wanted to try. The old and the new blended together naturally, creating something that belonged to both generations.
Business flourished more than either of you expected.
By noon, the display shelves were usually empty, save for a few crumbs and handwritten signs apologizing that everything had sold out for the day. Customers quickly learned that arriving late meant leaving empty-handed, and before long, people began lining up before sunrise just to secure their favorite pastries.
"You know," you teased one afternoon while flipping the sign on the door to Closed, "maybe we should make more."
Kento was already wiping flour from the countertop.
"We've said that every day this week."
"And every day we've still sold out."
He looked toward the empty shelves before giving a small shrug. "...I think we've made enough."
"You just want to go home."
"I do."
You laughed as you untied your apron. "I knew it."
Cleaning the bakery became part of the routine the two of you had come to cherish. Once everything had been washed, the floors swept, and preparations made for the next morning, you would lock the front door together before climbing into the little tuk-tuk the two of you had impulsively purchased after moving to Kuantan.
You had insisted it would be "more practical."
Kento still wasn't entirely convinced.
"It has character," you argued.
"It barely goes uphill."
"It gets us there."
"...Eventually."
Despite his complaints, he was always the one driving.
The ride home became your favorite part of the day. The sea breeze drifted through the open sides of the tuk-tuk as the two of you drove along the coastal road, passing fishermen returning with their catch, children playing near the shore, and familiar neighbors waving as you passed by. There was never any rush. Home was only a short drive away, waiting with open windows, the scent of salt lingering in the air, and the comforting sound of waves greeting you before you even stepped inside.
A year after opening the bakery, your little family grew.
On a quiet spring morning, surrounded by the gentle sound of the ocean just beyond the hospital windows, your daughter was born.
Hina.
The first time Kento held her, he simply stared in silence, almost afraid to move. His scarred hands, once used to gripping a blunt sword, now cradled something impossibly small. She yawned, blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, and instinctively wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his.
"...Hello," he whispered, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.
You smiled from the hospital bed.
"I think she likes you."
"I certainly hope so."
From the very beginning, Hina adored the sea.
Long before she could walk, she would become fascinated whenever Kento carried her onto the veranda each morning. She would watch the waves with wide, curious eyes, giggling whenever the ocean breeze brushed against her cheeks. As soon as she learned to toddle across the sand, she insisted on following her father during his evening walks along the shoreline, tiny footprints trailing beside his much larger ones. Whenever he stopped to admire the horizon, she'd stop beside him too, as though she already understood why he loved it so much.
"She's your daughter, alright," you laughed one evening as the two of them stood ankle-deep in the water.
Kento glanced down at Hina, who was proudly holding a seashell almost as big as both of her hands.
"...She has your smile."
"And your habit of collecting things."
He looked at the shell.
"...Fair enough."
Two years later, your family welcomed another child.
A little boy named Hiro.
Unlike his older sister, Hiro preferred the bakery over the beach. While Hina could spend hours searching for seashells with her father, Hiro was happiest perched on the kitchen counter, watching you and Kento prepare bread before sunrise. By the time he was old enough to speak in full sentences, he had already declared himself the bakery's "official taste tester," proudly volunteering to sample anything sweet that came out of the oven.
"If I'm going to inherit this place," he would say with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster, "I need to know if it's good."
Kento would hand him the smallest piece of pastry.
"...Very well."
Years passed more quietly than either of you ever imagined possible.
The bakery continued to thrive, your children filled the once-silent house with laughter, and the life the two of you had once thought impossible became so wonderfully ordinary that it was difficult to remember there had ever been a time without it.
Now, standing on the veranda of your beach house as the early morning breeze carried the familiar scent of salt through the air, you found yourself watching the horizon just as Kento often did. The waves rolled in with the same gentle rhythm they always had, the sky painted in soft shades of gold as another peaceful day began.
Your thoughts were interrupted when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Kento rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, his embrace warm despite the cool morning air.
"You're up early," you murmured, leaning back against him.
"So are you."
"I couldn't sleep."
"Hm."
He didn't ask why.
He never needed to.
Instead, the two of you stood there in comfortable silence, listening to the waves as another morning began in the life you had built together—a life that, years ago, had seemed no more than an impossible dream.
The silence was short-lived.
The familiar sound of tiny footsteps padding across the wooden floor echoed from inside the house before the sliding door slowly opened. Hiro peeked his head out first, his dark hair sticking up in every direction from sleep. His eyes were barely open as he rubbed at one of them with the sleeve of his pajama shirt, pausing when he spotted the two of you standing together on the veranda.
Without a word, he shuffled toward you, his movements still sluggish from having just woken up. He wrapped both arms around your waist before letting out a sleepy yawn.
"Mama..." he mumbled against your side. "Are we going to the bakery now?"
You couldn't help but smile as you brushed a hand through his messy hair. Beside you, Kento let out a quiet chuckle, one that was almost impossible to hear unless you were standing this close.
"We are," you answered, crouching until you were eye level with your son. "But first, I need your help with something."
Hiro straightened immediately, the last traces of sleep seemingly disappearing from his face.
"What is it?"
"Can you wake Hina for me?"
His eyes lit up.
"I can!"
You laughed, gently pinching his cheek before he could dash off.
"But nicely."
"I will."
"No jumping on her bed."
"I won't."
"No stealing her blanket."
His expression faltered for just a second.
"...I wasn't going to."
Kento raised an amused eyebrow.
"Weren't you?"
Hiro looked down at his feet, shuffling them against the wooden planks before giving the smallest shrug.
"...Maybe."
A quiet laugh escaped Kento as he reached over to ruffle his son's already untidy hair, only making it stick up even more.
"I'm sure your sister would appreciate a gentler approach."
"I'll be gentle," Hiro promised with complete sincerity.
Satisfied, you nodded toward the hallway. "Go on, then."
This time, Hiro remembered not to run. He hurried inside at what he clearly believed was a respectable walking pace, his small footsteps disappearing farther into the house until the hallway fell quiet once more.
Only a few moments later, his cheerful voice echoed from the other end of the house.
"Hina! Wake up!"
A muffled groan answered from behind the bedroom door.
"...I'm awake."
"No, you're not."
"I am."
"Mama said it's time to get up."
There was another pause before Hina's sleepy voice drifted back through the hallway.
"...Five more minutes."
"You said that yesterday."
"And it worked."
"It didn't."
"It almost did."
You rested your head lightly against Kento's shoulder, unable to suppress a laugh as the two siblings continued their early morning negotiations. It had become something of a ritual over the years. Every morning, Hiro eagerly volunteered to wake his older sister, and every morning, Hina tried her best to bargain for just a little more sleep.
Not long after, the bedroom door slid open.
Hina stepped into the hallway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she yawned dramatically. At seven years old, she had inherited Kento's quiet disposition almost entirely. Her hair, still messy from bed, framed a face that looked remarkably like yours, though the thoughtful expression she wore so often belonged unmistakably to her father.
She wandered straight toward the veranda without saying much, stopping only when she reached Kento. As though it were second nature, she slipped her small hand into his scarred one.
"Morning, Papa."
His gaze softened immediately.
"Good morning."
She leaned against his side, still half asleep, while Hiro proudly stood nearby with his hands on his hips.
"I woke her."
"So I can see," you said with a smile.
"I didn't even steal her blanket."
Hina looked up at him.
"You were going to."
"...Maybe."
She rolled her eyes with all the dramatic exasperation only an older sister could manage, earning another laugh from both you and Kento.
"Alright," you said, clapping your hands together once. "Go get changed, both of you. We have customers waiting for breakfast."
The mention of the bakery was all the motivation the siblings needed.
Hiro hurried off excitedly, already talking about which pastries he hoped would be left over after closing, while Hina followed behind at a much more leisurely pace, reminding him not to trip over his own feet.
You watched them disappear down the hallway before turning toward Kento.
"...They're growing up too fast."
He followed your gaze toward the house, the corners of his lips lifting into the faintest smile.
"They are."
"Kento?"
"Mhm?" he replied, his attention still lingering on the horizon where the sun slowly climbed above the sea.
"Do you ever miss Tokyo?"
For a while, he didn't answer. His thumb absentmindedly traced slow circles against the back of your hand as the waves rolled onto the shore below. Kento had always been like this. He never rushed his words, especially when they concerned the past.
"...Sometimes."
You turned slightly toward him. "What do you miss?"
"The people."
His answer came gently, carrying none of the bitterness you might have expected. "I miss Ijichi. I miss having lunch with him after long assignments, even if neither of us spoke much. He understood that silence didn't have to be filled."
A smile found your lips. "He probably still apologizes every time he talks too much."
"He undoubtedly does."
You laughed quietly. "And Ino?"
Kento let out the faintest hum. "I miss him as well. He has... an endless supply of things to say."
"So you're saying he never stopped talking?"
"I imagine he hasn't."
"What about Gojo?"
A sigh escaped him, though there was unmistakable fondness hidden beneath it. "I suppose I miss him."
"Only suppose?"
"He has an extraordinary talent for being exhausting."
You couldn't help but laugh. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about him."
"I'm trying to be generous."
The laughter faded as naturally as it had begun, replaced by the familiar comfort of simply standing together. The ocean breeze slipped between you, carrying the scent of salt and fresh rain from somewhere farther down the coast.
"There are others," Kento continued quietly. "People I worked beside for years." He paused, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon. "And people who never made it out."
You gently squeezed his hand. "You still think about them."
"Every day." The answer was immediate. "They deserved to have this too."
You knew exactly what he meant without asking. A quiet morning. A peaceful home. A family waiting for them at the end of the day instead of another mission.
"And Tokyo?" you asked after another moment. "Do you miss living there?"
This time, he answered without hesitation.
"No."
"Not even a little?"
He slowly shook his head. "I don't miss the city."
"What about it?"
"I don't miss the life I had there."
His voice remained calm, but you recognized the exhaustion that still lingered beneath it, one that years of peaceful mornings had softened but never entirely erased.
"Every day began the same way. Another assignment. Another report. Another call telling me where I needed to be next." He let out a quiet breath before continuing. "Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking about living and simply focused on surviving."
You rested your head lightly against his shoulder. "And then Shibuya happened."
He nodded. "I remember believing that was where everything ended."
"But it didn't."
"No."
"You came home."
"I did."
Neither of you mentioned how close he had come to never doing so. There was no need. His scars spoke loudly enough.
"When Hina was born," he said after a comfortable silence, "I realized I almost never met her."
You smiled faintly, remembering the way he had held her for the first time, terrified that even the slightest movement might wake her.
"You barely blinked."
"I was afraid I'd drop her."
"You were sitting down."
"I was still concerned."
You laughed softly.
"And then Hiro came." The corners of his lips lifted. "And suddenly the house became loud."
As though summoned by the conversation itself, Hiro's voice echoed from somewhere inside.
"Hina! That's my toothbrush!"
"It isn't! Yours is blue!"
"No, it's green!"
"It literally has your name on it!"
You buried your face against Kento's shoulder, laughing. "I stand corrected."
"So do I."
Another pause settled between the two of you as the sounds of your children bickering drifted through the open windows.
"What if..." you began carefully. "One day they ask you to come back."
His expression didn't change.
"They might ask."
"They probably will."
"They'll need experienced sorcerers."
"They always do."
"What would you say?"
Kento didn't need time to think. "No."
"Even if they only asked you to teach?"
"No."
"You wouldn't even consider it?"
He turned toward the house instead of the ocean this time. Through the open curtains, you could just make out Hina trying to wrestle a toothbrush away from Hiro while the younger boy insisted he had done nothing wrong.
"I've already given that world everything I had."
His voice was quiet, though there was a certainty within it that left no room for doubt. "I don't regret helping people."
"I know."
"But I won't bring my children anywhere near it."
He watched as Hiro finally surrendered the toothbrush with exaggerated reluctance, earning a triumphant smile from his older sister.
"They deserve to wake up arguing over whose turn it is to feed the stray cats by the bakery."
You smiled.
"They deserve worrying about homework, not curses."
"They deserve scraped knees from climbing trees and playing, not injuries from training"
"And lastly, they deserve wondering whether the cinnamon rolls will sell out before lunch, not whether they'll make it home."
He fell silent for a moment before continuing.
"I've seen too many children carry burdens they never should've been asked to bear. They were forced to grow up long before they had the chance to simply be children."
His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. "If Hina and Hiro inherited cursed energy..."
He paused."...Then I'll spend the rest of my life making sure they never have to use it."
You looked at him, your heart swelling all over again.
Years ago, Kento Nanami had accepted that he would probably die doing his job.
Now, the only future he wanted was one where his children never had to understand why.
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening.
Hina stepped onto the veranda first, now fully dressed with her hair neatly tied back, while Hiro followed only a step behind, proudly wearing his shirt the right way around after his sister had reluctantly fixed it.
"We're ready!" Hiro announced.
Hina glanced down before sighing.
"No, we're not. You forgot your shoes."
Hiro blinked before looking down at his sock-covered feet. "...Oh."
He immediately turned to sprint back into the house. "Hiro."
Kento's voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to stop the little boy in his tracks.
"...Walking."
"Right."
With dramatically exaggerated care, Hiro slowed himself into what he clearly believed was a proper walking pace before disappearing back inside. You couldn't stop yourself from laughing.
"I think he takes you a little too literally."
"I'd rather that than the alternative."
A few minutes later, Hiro returned, now wearing his shoes, though one of the laces trailed loosely across the wooden floor.
"I'm ready now."
Kento's eyes immediately fell to the untied lace. "Come here."
Without another word, he crouched in front of his son and neatly tied the shoelace before dusting a bit of sand from the boy's shorts. It was such an ordinary gesture, yet one that never failed to warm your heart. There had been a time when you wondered whether Kento would ever have the chance to do something so simple.
"There," he said, standing once more. "Now we're ready."
He reached for the keys hanging beside the front door before looking at the three of you.
"Let's go."
The four of you walked down the wooden steps toward the little tuk-tuk parked beneath the shade of a palm tree. Years of use had weathered its paint, but it remained just as dependable as the day you bought it.
"You know," you said as you slipped into the passenger seat, "for someone who claims to hate this thing..."
"I do."
"...You never let anyone else drive it."
"It gets us where we need to go."
"So that's your excuse?"
"It's practical."
Hina giggled from the back seat. "Papa always says that."
"And he always drives," Hiro added. "I've never seen Mama drive it."
"Because Papa won't let her," Hina replied matter-of-factly.
You looked at him with a knowing smile. "They're right."
Kento adjusted the rearview mirror, pretending not to notice the three pairs of eyes now watching him. "It's more efficient this way."
"Mhm."
"You don't believe me."
"Not for a second."
A barely noticeable smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he started the engine. "I still dislike it."
"Of course you do."
"And yet," you teased, resting your elbow against the open window, "you're always the one behind the wheel."
He didn't bother arguing this time.
Instead, he simply shifted the tuk-tuk into gear and guided it onto the quiet coastal road, your children's laughter filling the morning air as the four of you made your way toward the little bakery that had become the heart of your new life.
Perhaps he did hate the tuk-tuk.
But somehow, he always ended up driving it, if that's what it takes to make you three happy.
do you even have the engagement to open a patreon lmao has anyone joined?
Why am I getting hate for opening a patreon 😭 HAHAHAHAH sorry I find this funny it seems like you have a huge problem with me opening one
If no joins, that fine with me it's not that deep for me to brood over lol and in terms of engagement, I can say I have enough and I don't really care about engagement that much. I'm thankful that people read my works and don't obsess over how well it does.
I have a few hit and miss with my works that's fine with me and most of them don't even reach thousand likes and that's fine with me too.
I post my works because I want to and not to see if a lot of people have been engaging on it.
hello!! I'll be posting some of my fics in patreon to earn a few bucks since I need some HAHAHAHA and commissions are open since I'm currently in a semestral vacation <333
cw. nsfw 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, praise kink, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, nipple play, creampie, multiple orgasm, camgirling, mutual masturbation, usage of toys
author's note: long overdue camgirl!reade x gojo smut
Camgirling had never been your Plan A. Hell, it hadn’t even been Plan C. You were already juggling a full course load and a part-time job at the cozy little café right off campus—early morning shifts, endless coffee orders, and the occasional flirty customer who tipped better when you smiled. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills.
Until it didn’t.
Your boss fired you with zero warning. Apparently his new girlfriend—some twenty-year-old influencer who barely looked old enough to order a latte—needed the hours more than you did. The same day you got the news, you came back to your dorm to find dark mold blooming across the ceiling and water dripping steadily into a bucket you’d placed on your desk. Housing told you they couldn’t do anything about it.
With nowhere else to go, you dragged your suitcase across town to Shoko’s off-campus house.
You stood on the porch, hesitating for a second before knocking. The door swung open almost immediately. Shoko blinked at you, cigarette dangling from her lips, then broke into a warm, lazy smile.
“Hey… wait, what’s with the suitcase?” Her eyes flicked from your face to the bag at your feet. “You moving in or running from the law?”
You let out a tired laugh. “Both feel accurate right now.”
She stepped aside without another word, waving you in. “Get inside, it’s cold. Shoes off.”
You followed her into the familiar living room, the scent of vanilla candles and faint cigarette smoke wrapping around you like a hug. Shoko shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed, waiting.
“So… my boss fired me yesterday,” you started, dropping your suitcase by the couch. “Just like that. Said his girlfriend needed the job more. She’s like… barely twenty. Posts thirst traps on her story every day. He didn’t even try to hide it.”
Shoko’s eyebrow arched. “What a sleazy asshole. Good riddance. That place smelled like burnt espresso anyway.”
You nodded, the frustration still fresh. “And then I got back to the dorm and the ceiling’s leaking again. Mold everywhere. I told housing and they basically said ‘budget’s empty, rooms are full, figure it out.’ I can’t stay there anymore, Sho. Not with black mold growing over my bed.”
Shoko’s expression softened. She walked over and pulled you into a quick side hug, rubbing your arm.
“Shit… that’s rough. I’m sorry.” She pulled back, tilting her head. “You’re staying here. No discussion. The guest room’s already made up. You can crash as long as you need.”
“Really? I don’t want to impose—”
“You’re not imposing,” she cut you off, waving a dismissive hand. “Me and my roommate have been rattling around in this big house anyway. Plus, you already know what we do for work. No secrets here.”
You felt your face warm a little. You’d accidentally walked in on one of their streams before. “Yeah… about that. I’ve kinda… seen the setup.”
Shoko smirked, clearly amused. “Relax. The streaming room’s soundproofed for a reason. You won’t bother us and we won’t bother you. Unless you want tips.” She winked.
You laughed despite everything, some of the heavy weight on your chest easing. “I might actually need those tips soon. I’m running out of options.”
Shoko gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “One problem at a time. First, you unpack. Then we order takeout, and you tell me everything. Sounds good?”
Thankfully, Shoko’s roommate was just as welcoming. She greeted you with a bright smile and a casual wave, telling you to make yourself at home. It didn’t take long to notice the tension between her and Shoko though. The way they lingered near each other, the soft looks when they thought no one was watching, the way they’d finish each other’s sentences… They were terrible at hiding it. You could practically smell the feelings between them. And yeah—they streamed together sometimes too. You’d heard the sounds through the walls more than once.
A few nights later, the three of you were sprawled out in the living room for a relaxed hangout. Takeout containers were scattered across the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of wine between you. You’d finally worked up the courage.
“So… I’ve been thinking,” you started, cheeks already warm. “I need money. Badly. And I keep seeing how much you two make in a single stream…” You trailed off, fiddling with the stem of your wine glass. “I’m not exactly a virgin or anything. I’ve had some experience… mostly bad. But I’m still kinda nervous. I don’t even know where to start.”
Shoko and her roommate exchanged a knowing look, then both turned toward you with matching mischievous grins.
“Ohhh, so our little quiet girl wants to be a camgirl?” Shoko teased, leaning forward. “That’s cute.”
Her roommate smirked. “We could help you with your first stream, you know. All three of us. I bet the viewers would lose their minds.”
“Yeah,” Shoko added, eyes sparkling with amusement. “We’d make it a full show. You in the middle, us helping you relax… hands, mouths, toys. It’d be hot as hell.”
Your face burned. For a split second the image flashed through your mind—definitely not unpleasant—but you quickly shook your head.
“I… I appreciate it. Really,” you said, laughing nervously. “But I don’t think I want to cross that line with you two. You’re my friends. This already feels like a lot. I don’t want to risk messing up what we have.”
They both softened immediately.
“Fair enough,” Shoko said with an easy shrug. “No pressure at all. We were mostly teasing.”
Her roommate nodded. “Yeah, boundaries are important. We get it. But the offer for the streaming room is serious. You can use it whenever you want. Just let us know so we don’t accidentally walk in.”
Shoko stood up and disappeared down the hall for a minute before returning with a sleek black bag. She dropped it on the couch beside you.
“Consider this a welcome-to-camming starter kit,” she said, grinning. “Some of my newer stuff I haven’t even used yet. A couple dildos, a nice plug, that powerful wand vibrator everyone loves, and a few other vibrators. Oh, and lingerie.” She pulled out a delicate lace set—deep emerald green, strappy, and clearly designed to accentuate curves. “This’ll look way better on you than it ever did on me. You’ve got the perfect tits and that fat ass. It’s literally made for your body.”
You let out a surprised laugh, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. “Shoko—”
“I’m serious,” she cut in, smirking. “Wear that and you’ll have guys tipping stupid amounts in the first ten minutes. Trust me.”
Her roommate leaned over and gave your shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve got this. And if you need any technical help—lighting, angles, dirty talk scripts, whatever—we’re right down the hall.”
You hugged the bag to your chest, warmth blooming in your chest despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
“Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Shoko just smiled, soft and genuine this time. “We got you.”
And just like that, you took the plunge.
Your first stream was nerve-wracking, but the delicate black lace masquerade mask gave you the courage to let go. By the end of that night you were shaking, thighs slick, and had made more in a single stream than you used to earn in an entire month at the café.
Shoko and her roommate were incredibly supportive. They started mentioning you in their own streams, casually dropping your username—“@LaceEcho_”—and hyping you up to their loyal fans.
“If you like us, you’re gonna lose your mind over LaceEcho,” Shoko had teased during one of their joint streams, smirking at the camera. “She’s sweet, shy, and absolutely filthy once she gets going. Go check her out.”
Their promotion worked wonders. Your follower count and tips exploded almost overnight.
With all the money pouring in from tips, private videos, and subscriber content, you were able to move out of Shoko’s guest room and into a beautiful, high-end condominium building just a few weeks later. The apartment was everything your old dorm wasn’t: spacious, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning city view, a massive bedroom perfect for streaming, and best of all—no mold, no leaks, and complete privacy.
Now settled in your new luxury space, your confidence—and your appetite for pleasure—only grew.
You started investing heavily in new toys. Pretty bullet vibrators, thick realistic dildos, curved g-spot stimulators, jeweled plugs, and several high-end vibrators. But your absolute favorite, the one that quickly became legendary among your viewers, was the powerful thrusting fuck machine you bought after your third stream.
The first time you used it live, you positioned the thick, veiny dildo right at your dripping entrance, turned it on, and let out a broken moan as it started pumping into you. The relentless mechanical thrusts hit deep, stretching your slick walls perfectly. Within minutes you were crying out, legs trembling as you came hard, squirting messily all over the bed. When you upgraded to the model that could shoot warm fake cum, it became pure addiction. Feeling it pump load after thick, white load deep inside your clenching pussy while still thrusting had you seeing stars. You loved the filthy sensation of it leaking out of your swollen, used hole afterward.
Even off-camera, your masturbation sessions became longer and far more intense. After exhausting days of university lectures and assignments, you’d come home, strip down in your beautiful new bedroom, and ride the fuck machine for hours. You’d set it on a brutal pace, ass up and face buried in the pillows, moaning shamelessly as it pounded into your soaked cunt. The powerful thrusts would make your tits bounce and your eyes roll back until your pussy spasmed hard, squirting all over the towel beneath you.
You started filming private videos—some just for yourself, raw and desperate, others for your paid subscriber page. The explicit ones, where you were maskless or riding the fuck machine until you were a drooling, squirting, cum-filled mess, sold extremely well. Viewers paid premium prices to watch you fall apart again and again.
You weren’t addicted to masturbating, but you definitely loved it more than ever. It had become your favorite way to unwind from the stress of classes. Nothing cleared your mind quite like getting fucked senseless by your machine, pussy clenching and squirting while thick fake cum pumped into you until it dripped down your thighs.
And through it all, one viewer kept standing out.
SixEyesOnly.
He was always there, tipping generously with those oddly sweet, almost nerdy comments that made heat bloom between your legs even more.
“Fuck, the way you squirt when it’s set that high is unreal…”
“You look so pretty when you’re full and dripping like that.”
“Take your time tonight, pretty girl. I could watch you cum all night.”
His words always left you extra needy. Sometimes, after ending a stream, you’d keep the machine running just for yourself, moaning softly while imagining those intense blue eyes watching you take every thrust and every fake load.
You had no idea yet that the man behind the username was Gojo Satoru—the tall, ridiculously attractive, secretly nerdy physics major who had become completely hooked on you.
Gojo Satoru wasn’t the type to watch porn.
He rarely had the time or interest. Between his advanced physics courses, coding projects, and collecting limited-edition Digimon merch, he usually unwound with games or late-night coding sessions. But that night was different.
He had just finished a brutal assignment and splurged on the newest limited Digimon figure that dropped at midnight. Feeling bored and restless in his dark apartment, he mindlessly scrolled through the recommended streams on the site. That was when he found you.
@LaceEcho_ was live.
The moment the stream loaded, Gojo was hooked.
You were on your knees on soft black sheets, wearing nothing but the intricate black lace masquerade mask and a tiny emerald lingerie set that barely contained your body. The way your perky, round tits strained against the delicate fabric made his throat go dry. Then his eyes dropped lower—to the way your thighs were spread, showing your pretty, glistening pussy as you slowly rubbed circles on your swollen clit.
But it was your eyes that really got him.
Even with the lace covering half your face, your eyes were stunning—bright, expressive, and somehow shy despite what you were doing. There was something almost innocent in them that made his cock twitch harder than the filthy scene in front of him.
“Fuck…” Gojo muttered under his breath.
He wasn’t a pervert. At least, he didn’t think he was. But before he knew it, he had shoved his sweatpants down, his long, thick cock springing free, already leaking at the tip. He wrapped his large hand around himself and started stroking slowly as he watched you.
He imagined how tight your pussy would feel. How warm and wet it would be wrapped around his cock instead of his fist. Every time you moaned softly behind the mask, his grip tightened. When you finally slid two fingers inside yourself and whimpered, Gojo’s head fell back against his chair with a low groan.
Then you brought out the thrusting machine.
The obscene wet sounds as it pounded into your dripping cunt filled his headphones. Your tits bounced beautifully with every brutal thrust. Your moans grew louder, needier, until you shattered—back arching, thighs shaking, squirting messily while crying out in pleasure.
Gojo came harder than he had in months, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist as he stared at the screen, completely mesmerized by the sound of your voice.
That night, he did something he’d never done before.
He subscribed to your channel. Then he joined your highest membership tier. And instead of buying any of the discounted bundles, he purchased every single private video and photo individually—paying full price for each one. It cost him a small fortune, but he didn’t care. His bank account barely noticed.
From that night on, SixEyesOnly became one of your most dedicated supporters. Always tipping generously. Always leaving sweet but hungry comments. And always watching every single one of your streams.
He told himself it was just curiosity.
Deep down, Gojo already knew he was completely fucked.
It had only gotten worse with time. What started as occasional viewing had become an obsession. Tonight, he was leaning back in his gaming chair, legs spread, sweatpants shoved down to his ankles as his large hand stroked his thick, veiny cock slowly.
On screen, you were a dripping, whimpering mess.
You were positioned on all fours, the powerful thrusting fuck machine slamming relentlessly into your soaked pussy. The thick dildo stretched you open with every brutal pump while the special tip-responsive vibrator buzzed hard against your g-spot. Your heavy tits bounced wildly, nipples stiff and flushed.
Gojo’s eyes were locked on you, breathing already ragged.
He started tipping heavily.
SixEyesOnly tipped 1,500 tokens.
The vibrator surged stronger. Your back arched sharply.
“Ahh—! Fuck—!” you moaned loudly, voice sweet and shaky behind the lace mask. “SixEyesOnly… you’re spoiling me so much tonight— nngh—!”
Gojo groaned, tightening his grip. “That’s it, pretty girl…”
He tipped again. Much bigger.
SixEyesOnly tipped 3,000 tokens.
The vibrations inside you became almost punishing. Your thighs quivered violently as the machine pounded your dripping cunt without mercy.
“Oh my god—! It’s so deep—!” you cried out, pushing back against the thrusts. “SixEyes… you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard—!”
Gojo stroked himself faster, voice low and rough. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear those pretty moans.”
The final massive tip pushed everything to the max. Your whole body tensed up.
You screamed his username as your orgasm hit. Clear fluid gushed out around the thrusting dildo, spraying messily all over the sheets and camera while your pussy clenched and fluttered. Your tits bounced wildly as you shook and moaned through the intense release, voice cracking beautifully.
Gojo cursed loudly and came right after you, thick ropes of cum painting his abs and chest as he watched you fall apart so perfectly for him.
After the stream ended, you took a moment to catch your breath before sending him a private message.
LaceEcho_: Hey… SixEyesOnly?
LaceEcho_: I just wanted to thank you personally for all those huge tips tonight. You made me cum so hard I could barely think straight lol. And thank you for all the video and picture purchases too… You’re honestly the sweetest and most generous person supporting me 💕
Gojo stared at the message, heart suddenly racing like a nervous teenager. He ran a hand through his white hair and reread it multiple times before finally replying.
SixEyesOnly: You really don’t have to thank me.
SixEyesOnly: Watching you feel that good is more than worth it. Your moans when you squirt are actually addictive.
LaceEcho_: 😳 You’re gonna make me blush so hard behind this mask haha.
LaceEcho_: I’m glad you like them… I get shy admitting it but your tips always make me cum the hardest.
From that night on, the two of you started talking almost every day.
Some nights were pure filth.
During one of your private shows just for him, you had the fuck machine going while he controlled the vibrator.
“Turn it higher for me,” he sent in a voice note, voice deep and husky. “I want to hear you moaning my name while you’re stuffed full.”
You whimpered loudly as the vibrations intensified. “SixEyes… fuck— it feels so good—! I’m so wet for you right now…”
“That’s my good girl,” he replied, stroking his cock. “Now ride it faster. Imagine it’s me fucking you deep instead of that machine.”
Other nights were softer and surprisingly sweet. You’d complain about tough university assignments, and he’d share funny stories about his friends or his latest late-night coding sessions. He would still tip you generously even during casual chats, simply because he loved spoiling you.
SixEyesOnly: You sound tired tonight. Take this and get some rest. tips 800 tokens
LaceEcho_: You’re spoiling me way too much… Thank you. I really appreciate you.
The more you talked, the more the connection between you deepened. Gojo was falling harder every day, and you were starting to look forward to his messages more than you cared to admit.
The new semester had just started, and the campus was buzzing with energy. Even though you and Shoko had different majors, you always managed to share the same elective classes. This semester, it was a late-afternoon Sociology course. As usual, Shoko’s friends—Geto and Gojo—were already waiting at your usual spot near the back of the lecture hall.
You tried not to stare, but it was hard.
Gojo Satoru was unfairly attractive. Tall, lean but toned, with that signature messy white hair and striking blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief. Despite his nerdy reputation—always carrying limited-edition Digimon keychains and excitedly rambling about the latest merch drops—he carried himself with an effortless confidence that made your stomach flutter.
You found it adorable how passionately he’d talk about Digimon with Geto and Shoko, eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. It was such a cute contrast to his ridiculously handsome face.
Today, you were sitting across from him, pretending to scroll through your phone while secretly observing him. He was explaining something animatedly to Geto when he suddenly lowered his voice to make a sarcastic comment.
“…and that’s why the new evolution line is actually broken, but nobody wants to admit it.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
That voice.
Low. Husky. Slightly teasing with that smooth, confident edge.
It was exactly the same voice that had been in your ear just last night.
“That’s my good girl… Ride it faster for me. Imagine it’s me fucking you deep instead of that machine.”
Your thighs pressed together instinctively as heat rushed to your face. You stared at Gojo, wide-eyed, suddenly connecting every little detail.
The way he laughed softly. The slight tilt of his head. The familiar cadence when he dropped his voice.
No way.
SixEyesOnly… was Gojo Satoru?
You quickly looked away before anyone noticed your flustered expression, but your mind was spiraling. The same man who had been tipping you thousands of tokens, controlling your vibrator, and making you squirt while moaning his username… was sitting right across from you in class, casually showing off a new Digimon pin on his bag.
Shoko nudged your arm. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Y-Yeah,” you managed, forcing a small smile. “Just… tired from the new schedule.”
Gojo turned toward you, those bright blue eyes locking onto yours with a lazy, charming grin.
“You sure? You’re all flushed,” he teased, voice dropping slightly again. “If the first week is already kicking your ass, I can share my notes. I’m pretty good at this class.”
That voice again. The same one that had praised you so filthily last night while you wore the exact lingerie he’d bought from your wishlist and rode the dildo he’d purchased for you.
Your pussy clenched at the memory.
“Thanks,” you replied, trying to sound normal even as your heart hammered in your chest. “I might take you up on that.”
Gojo’s grin widened, completely unaware of the storm he’d just caused inside you.
“Anytime,” he said, voice low and smooth, eyes lingering on your face a second longer than necessary. That lazy, charming smile of his should’ve been illegal.
You swallowed hard, heat crawling up your neck as you gave a small nod and looked away. If only he knew what that voice did to you
.Gojo wasn’t doing any better.
The moment your soft, genuinely warm smile reached him, his brain short-circuited. That smile. He knew that smile far too intimately. Just last night he’d watched it fracture in pleasure as you rode the thick dildo he’d bought you, back arched and thighs trembling while you moaned his username like a filthy prayer. He’d come harder than he had in months just from the sight of you squirting all over the sheets, crying out for “SixEyesOnly.”
Now here you were—sweet, quiet, sitting right beside him in class like the girl next door—and his cock was already twitching to life in his jeans. The sudden, heavy throb made him shift in his seat, trying to hide the growing bulge pressing against his thigh.
Holy shit… no fucking way it’s her.
Geto noticed his friend’s sudden stiffness and raised an eyebrow. “You good, Satoru? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gojo replied, flashing his signature cocky grin. “Just thinking about how I’m gonna destroy you in ranked later.”
Geto didn’t look fully convinced, but he let it go. Gojo, meanwhile, spent the rest of the lecture half-hard and completely distracted, stealing glances at the soft curve of your lips and the way your fingers nervously played with the hem of your shirt.
That night you posted a cancellation notice:
LaceEcho_: Hey everyone, sorry but I’m not feeling well tonight. No stream. I’ll make it up to you soon
In reality, you were spiraling in your dark bedroom, replaying the low, velvet timbre of Gojo’s “Anytime” on loop. It was identical to the voice that had praised you so filthily the night before—the same one that had growled “That’s it, pretty girl… fuck yourself deeper for me” while you fell apart on camera.
You saw the messages from him pop up.
SixEyesOnly: Hey, you okay? Saw your notice.
SixEyesOnly: Hope you’re resting well. Let me know if you need anything at all.
You ignored every single one, heart hammering. You needed proof. You needed time before you lost your mind completely.
Over the following weeks, hanging out with Shoko naturally pulled you deeper into Gojo and Geto’s orbit. The more time you spent around him, the more impossible it became to deny the truth.
You noticed the cute Digimon keychain dangling from his bag and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about limited-edition merch drops. You found it annoyingly endearing. You noticed how he pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with one long finger when concentrating—the same focused expression he wore when he was controlling the settings on your toys during private sessions. And those fingers… God, you’d watched them wrap around his thick cock in the videos he’d bought from you, stroking slowly while he typed commands.
But the moment that truly broke you came during a long study session at a café.
You’d been sitting for hours when you finally stretched your arms high above your head with a soft groan, your shirt rode up. The movement exposed a teasing strip of soft skin—the gentle curve of your waist, the delicate trail of faint freckles scattered across your hip, and that unmistakable small beauty mark just above the waistband of your skirt.
Gojo’s breath hitched.He’d seen that exact constellation of freckles and that perfect little mole hundreds of times. He’d traced them with his eyes while you rode toys for him. He’d jerked off furiously to the sight of them glistening with sweat as you came.
It was you.
No doubt left.
His cock swelled instantly, thick and aching against the confines of his jeans. He had to grip the edge of the table to keep his breathing steady, pretending to scroll on his phone while his mind flooded with images of you naked, masked, moaning his name. He wanted to bend you over the café table right there. He wanted to tell you he knew. He wanted to watch your face when you realized your biggest supporter had been sitting next to you for weeks.
But he didn’t say a word.Instead, he simply smirked to himself, blue eyes darkening behind his glasses as he burned the image into his memory. Not yet, he thought. I’m going to enjoy this a little longer.
Gojo was suffering just as badly as you—maybe worse.
Every shy smile you gave him made his cock throb. Every time you laughed at something Shoko said, his gaze would drop to your lips and imagine them stretched around him. When you stretched again days later during another hangout, shirt lifting just enough to flash those same freckles and that tempting mole, he nearly groaned out loud. He excused himself to the bathroom, locked the stall, and fisted his leaking cock with short, angry strokes, biting his lip so hard he almost drew blood while he pictured you on your knees for him.
One night, after yet another group hangout where Gojo had been especially attentive—buying you your favorite drink without being asked, brushing his fingers against yours when handing it over—the tension became unbearable.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
Heart racing, you logged on and started a private show just for him.
You wore the expensive emerald lingerie set he’d bought from your wishlist. The thick, veined dildo he’d also gifted you was already buried deep inside your dripping pussy. Mask firmly in place, you rode it slowly, hips rolling in sensual waves as soft, breathy moans filled the room.
After a few minutes of teasing yourself on camera, you looked straight into the lens, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with need.
“SixEyesOnly…” Your voice came out shaky, laced with nervousness and raw desire. You bit your lip, rolling your hips again so the thick toy pressed against that perfect spot inside you, pulling a broken whimper from your throat.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
You rode the dildo a little deeper, thighs trembling.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while… I want to get to know you more. Not just like this. The real you. Your interests, what you do when you’re not… watching me. Is that okay? I just… I feel like there’s something more here.”
Gojo let out a low, breathy groan that sent a shiver racing down your spine. You heard the faint, wet sound of his hand stroking his cock on the other side of the camera, and your pussy clenched hard around the thick dildo in response. Another rush of slick coated the toy as you sank down onto it with a shaky moan.
“Yeah, baby?” His voice was rougher now, amused and hungry all at once. “Ask me whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere while you’re riding my favorite toy like that.”
You rolled your hips slowly, trying to steady your breathing. “Do you… have any hobbies?”
Gojo laughed—that rich, cocky laugh you’d heard so many times in class. It melted into a deep groan as he stroked himself faster for a moment.
“Shit, that’s adorable. Asking me about hobbies while your pretty little pussy is stretched around a fat dildo on camera,” he teased. “You really are something else.”
You let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a whimper when the toy nudged against that sensitive spot inside you. “No, I mean—ahh— I’m just curious… Tell me.”
He hummed thoughtfully, dragging it out on purpose. You could practically see that signature smirk on his face even without seeing him.
“Alright, let’s see… I’m a huge Digimon fan. Still collect the figures, keychains, cards—the whole nerdy collection. I’ve got a ridiculous sweet tooth. I’m stupidly competitive when it comes to games, especially ranked matches. Oh, and I love spoiling girls who catch my eye. Especially the ones who act all sweet and shy in real life but turn into absolute camsluts behind a mask.”
Your hips stuttered. Digimon. The keychain on his bag. The way he’d lit up talking about new drops during lunch last week. Your mind spun, but you tried to play it cool, rolling your hips again as you moaned softly for him.
“That’s… specific,” you breathed
.“Mhm,” Gojo continued lazily, his voice dropping lower. “I also have this habit of pushing my sunglasses up when I’m focused. Kinda like how I focus when I’m telling a pretty girl exactly how to fuck herself for me. Long fingers, right? You’ve seen them.”
Your breath hitched. The exact way he pushed his glasses up in class. Those long, elegant fingers you’d watched wrap around his thick cock in the private videos he’d bought. The pieces were stacking too quickly.
Gojo chuckled darkly, like he could sense your rising panic and arousal.
“You okay over there, LaceEcho? You’re getting awfully quiet… and awfully wet. I can hear how messy that pussy is from here.”
You moaned louder despite yourself, thighs trembling as you rode the dildo a little faster. “I-I’m fine… Keep talking. What else?”
“Let’s see,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “I go to university. Sit next to this cute, quiet girl in some of my classes. She’s got the prettiest smile. Soft laugh. And when she stretches… mm, fuck. Her shirt rides up just enough to show these adorable freckles on her waist and this tiny little mole right above her hip. Drives me crazy every single time.”
That was it.
The exact description of the freckles and mole you knew were on your own body. The same ones he’d seen countless times on stream. Your heart slammed against your ribs as everything crashed into place at once—the voice, the laugh, the Digimon keychain, the fingers, the way he stared at you during study sessions.
It was him.
SixEyesOnly was Gojo Satoru.
He’d known. He’d probably known for weeks.
“Oh my god…” you whispered, voice shaking. Your pace faltered, the dildo buried deep as your walls fluttered and clenched around it. A fresh gush of wetness slipped down your thighs.
Gojo groaned in satisfaction. “There it is. Took you long enough, baby.”
“You… you knew?” you asked, voice breathless and cracked with both embarrassment and overwhelming lust.“Knew?” He laughed softly, the sound filthy.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been hard in class for weeks because of you. Every time you stretched and I saw those freckles and that cute little mole I’ve jerked off to dozens of times… fuck, I wanted to bend you over the desk right there.”
He let out another low groan, stroking himself louder so you could hear it.
“And you—acting all shy and polite next to me while I’ve watched you squirt and beg for my cock on camera? God, you’re perfect. My innocent little classmate and my favorite desperate camgirl are the same person. You have no idea how insane that makes me.”
You whimpered loudly, hips moving again on instinct, riding the dildo with shallow, needy rolls as the realization made your entire body burn.
“SixEyes— Gojo…” you corrected yourself, moaning his real name for the first time. The sound made him curse under his breath.
“That’s right, baby. Say it again. I want to hear my name while you fuck yourself for me. And don’t you dare stop.” Gojo’s voice dropped, low and wicked. “We’re just getting started now that you’ve finally connected the dots.”
You moaned loudly as the thick dildo stretched your soaked pussy, the wet, obscene sounds of you riding it filling the room. “Gojo— fuck, I—”
“Wrong name,” he corrected, dark amusement lacing his tone. “Try again, princess.”
His camera feed flicked on.
The sight hit you like a freight train.
Gojo Satoru leaned back in his chair like a king on his throne, completely naked. Snowy white hair disheveled, strands clinging to his forehead. Those signature round sunglasses sat low on his nose, letting his piercing blue eyes devour every desperate inch of you. One large, veiny hand stroked his massive cock—thick, flushed, and arrogantly hard—slowly twisting over the leaking head as precum slicked his fingers.
“Oh my fucking god—” The words barely left your lips before your pussy clenched violently around the toy. A sudden, shattering orgasm ripped through you. You squirted hard, gushing around the dildo while your eyes stayed glued to his cock.
Gojo let out a low, smug laugh. “Fuuuck, did you just squirt from seeing my dick? Greedy little camslut. You’ve been creaming those pretty panties for me in class this whole time, haven’t you?”
Still trembling, you stared shamelessly. “Satoru… your cock is so fucking huge. I need it stretching me open. I want it so bad—”
His eyes darkened with raw hunger.
“Say my name properly while you ride that toy,” he ordered. “And take the mask off. I’ve waited long enough to see your real face when you cum for me.”
With shaky fingers you slipped the lace mask away. Gojo groaned, deep and guttural, his cock twitching hard in his fist.
“Fuck… there’s my pretty classmate. Look at you—so beautiful when you’re this wrecked.” His voice turned rough. “Now lose the rest. Bra off. Panties off. I want you completely naked like the dirty girl you are.”
You obeyed instantly. The emerald bra flew aside, your tits bouncing free, nipples tight and aching. You shoved the soaked panties down your legs and kicked them away, leaving yourself fully exposed—pussy glistening, clit swollen, the thick dildo still buried deep inside you.
Gojo licked his lips, fisting himself lazily. “That’s it. Tits out, cunt dripping, riding my gift like a needy whore. Perfect.”
You fucked yourself harder on the toy, moaning shamelessly. “Satoru… Toru, please—”
“Not yet.” That wicked smirk appeared. “Grab the pink vibrator I bought you. Press it right on that swollen little clit.”
The moment the buzzing toy touched your clit, your eyes rolled back. Double stimulation hit like lightning.
“Toru— oh my god—”
“Good girl,” he praised, voice thick with lust. “Ride it faster for me.”
The tip notifications exploded.
SixEyesOnly sent 5,000 tokens
SixEyesOnly sent 12,000 tokens
SixEyesOnly sent 25,000 tokens
Each massive tip ramped the vibrator higher under his control. The intensity slammed into your clit, forcing a broken cry from your throat.
“Fuck— Toru!” you screamed, thighs shaking. “It’s too much— I’m gonna cum again—”
“Go on then, baby,” he growled, stroking his leaking cock faster. “Cum for me. Squirt like the filthy little camgirl you are while I tip you stupid. Let me see that pretty pussy gush while you moan my name.”
“Toru— Toru— Toruuu!” Your voice cracked as another orgasm crashed over you. Clear squirt gushed out around the dildo, soaking your sheets and dripping down your ass while the vibrator kept buzzing mercilessly against your oversensitive clit.
Gojo groaned, eyes glued to the mess. “That’s my good fucking girl. Keep cumming for me. I’m nowhere near done tipping… and I’m nowhere near done breaking you.”
The night blurred into pure, overwhelming pleasure.
He didn’t hold back. Massive tips kept flooding in—50k, 100k, sometimes more—each one cranking the toys higher. He had you in every position: legs spread wide on your back, ass up on all fours, riding the dildo while he described in filthy detail exactly how he was going to ruin you when he finally got his hands on you in real life.
You lost count of how many times you came. Your voice went hoarse from screaming his name. By the end you were a trembling, soaked wreck—thighs quivering, tears of overstimulation streaking your cheeks, pussy puffy and dripping.
When you finally begged him to stop, voice shaking, Gojo’s entire demeanor softened.
“Easy, baby… easy,” he murmured, gentle and soothing. “You did so well for me. Such a perfect girl. Come down nice and slow, yeah?”
He stayed on the call through your comedown, praising you softly, guiding you with patient affection. After you cleaned up and slipped into an oversized shirt, you curled up in bed, still lightly trembling.
“You okay, princess?” he asked, camera still on. He’d thrown on loose sweatpants but left his chest bare, looking unfairly gorgeous with that messy hair and soft smile. “You were shaking pretty hard there at the end.”
“I’m… spent,” you admitted with a weak laugh. “Can’t feel my legs.”
Gojo chuckled warmly. “My bad. Let me take care of you a little, yeah? You hungry?”
He ordered your favorite comfort meal (plus sweets and drinks) and had it delivered. While you ate, the conversation flowed easily—masks fully off, guards down. He admitted he’d known it was you for weeks, how your smile in class had been slowly destroying him, how he’d been fighting not to get hard every time you stretched.
The teasing was light, the chemistry warm. Before ending the call he gave you one last soft look.
“Hey… when you’re free this weekend, I want to see you for real. No cameras. Just us. I’ll bring more of those sweets you like.”
Your stomach flipped with nervous excitement.
“I’d like that, Toru.”
He smiled, bright and genuine. “Good. Get some rest, baby. You earned it.”
True to his word, Gojo took you out that weekend.
The two of you had already been flirting more openly in class—lingering looks across the lecture hall, sneaky texts under the desk, and one particularly memorable evening where he walked you home, his fingers brushing yours the entire way. When Saturday finally arrived, you took extra care getting ready. You wore a soft, flowy sundress in a delicate floral print that hugged your waist and swayed around your thighs with every step. Underneath, you’d chosen the pretty lace lingerie set he’d bought you during one of his generous tipping sprees—the pale emerald green that matched your cam outfit, the one he’d described in filthy detail over the call.
The moment you opened the door, Gojo went completely still.
He was wearing those huge, nerdy eyeglasses you loved so much—the thick black frames that made him look like a hot, slightly disheveled professor instead of his usual cocky, sunglasses-wearing self. His snowy white hair was artfully messy, a few strands falling over the frames, and he’d dressed casually but thoughtfully in a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks.
His piercing blue eyes widened behind the lenses as they slowly dragged down your body and back up again. A visible flush crept across his cheeks.
“Fuck me…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “You look unreal. That dress… and I already know what you’re wearing underneath, don’t I?” He let out a shy, breathless laugh. “I’m not gonna survive today. Not even a little bit.”
You grinned and stepped forward, rising onto your toes to give him a quick, sweet peck on the lips. The great Satoru Gojo—the same man who’d made you squirt on camera while tipping you thousands—turned into an absolute blushing mess. His ears went pink, and he blinked rapidly behind those big glasses, momentarily speechless.
He was so different in person. Still playful and teasing, but softer. Gentler. Almost boyishly shy at times. It made your chest feel warm.
The day unfolded like a dream.
He took you to a beautiful rooftop restaurant for lunch, the kind with stunning city views and a light breeze that kept playing with the hem of your dress. Over pasta and chilled wine, he kept stealing glances at you, one hand resting possessively on your thigh under the table. Every time you leaned in to whisper something, he’d get that dazed look again.
Later, at the museum, he was in his element—making you laugh with absurd commentary about the sculptures and paintings. At one point he stood behind you while you admired a particularly sensual statue, his chest pressed lightly to your back, lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “Reminds me of the way you looked riding that toy for me… all arched and needy.” The contrast between his nerdy glasses and filthy words made your stomach flip.
Throughout the day he kept finding little ways to touch you—tucking your hair behind your ear, holding your hand, resting his palm on your lower back. The tension simmered hotter with every hour, until by sunset you were both buzzing with it.
When he finally walked you to your door that night, the air between you felt charged.
You turned to him, biting your lip. “Do you… want to come inside?”
Gojo’s eyes darkened instantly, but his voice stayed soft. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”
Inside, you put on a chill movie and ended up curled together on the couch. You were tucked against his chest, his strong arms wrapped securely around you, one hand lazily stroking up and down your side. The glasses were still on, slightly askew now. You could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat under your cheek and the way his body heat radiated through his shirt. Every so often his fingers would drift a little lower, tracing the curve of your hip or slipping just under the hem of your sundress before retreating again, like he was trying to be good.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
Shifting slowly, you moved to straddle his lap. Gojo’s breath hitched sharply. His hands immediately settled on your thighs, sliding upward until they disappeared beneath the flowy fabric of your dress and found the delicate lace edges of your panties.
You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over the frames of his glasses, and pulled him into a deep kiss.
The second your lips met, the shy, blushing version of Gojo disappeared. He groaned low into your mouth, one large hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck while the other squeezed your ass, yanking you harder against the growing bulge in his slacks. The kiss turned hungry and messy almost instantly—tongues sliding, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, his breath hot against your skin.
When you finally pulled back for air, his eyes were dark with lust behind the slightly fogged lenses. His lips were kiss-swollen, hair even messier.
“Careful, princess,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “Keep kissing me like that and I won’t be able to hold back anymore.” His fingers slipped under the lace, tracing your soaked folds. “I’ve been dying to touch you for real… to feel how tight and wet this pretty pussy gets when it’s my cock instead of a toy.”
He leaned in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat, then another just below your ear.
“Tell me how far you want this to go tonight,” he said, gently nipping at your skin before soothing it with his tongue. “Because once I start, I’m not stopping until you’re shaking and screaming my name again—this time with me buried deep inside you, filling you up like you deserve.”
You nodded frantically, but Gojo shook his head, eyes dark and serious behind those glasses.
“I need words, baby. Use that pretty mouth and tell me.”
You started grinding down on his lap, rolling your hips so your soaked cunt dragged along the hard bulge straining in his slacks. A needy moan slipped out of you.
“Yes, please Toru… I want all of it. I want you to fuck me tonight.”
A low, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest. “Good girl.”
In one smooth motion, Gojo unzipped the back of your sundress and tugged it down. The fabric bunched around your waist, exposing the light blue strapless lingerie set you’d chosen. The delicate lace hugged your breasts perfectly, strapless and sexy, barely containing you.
His gaze dropped to your tits like a starving man. “Fuck… light blue looks so good on you,” he muttered, voice thick with lust.
He didn’t bother unhooking the bra. Instead, he simply yanked the strapless top down in one rough pull, freeing your breasts completely. The cool air hit your stiff nipples for only a second before his hot, greedy mouth latched onto one. Gojo sucked hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive peak as wet, obscene sounds filled the room. His large hand kneaded your other tit, pinching and tugging the nipple between his fingers.
“Toru— oh my god—” you cried out, back arching sharply. Your hands flew to his head, fingers burying deep in his snowy white hair and pulling hard. He moaned against your skin at the rough tug, the vibration shooting straight to your core.
He switched to your other nipple, sucking even more hungrily, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt and whimper. Then he pulled back slightly and started marking you—leaving messy, possessive love bites all over your soft tits. Deep red hickeys bloomed across the tops, the undersides, and the sensitive skin between them as he sucked and licked like he wanted everyone to know who you belonged to.
“Been dreaming about marking these pretty tits for weeks,” he growled between bites, voice muffled. “Gonna cover them in my marks so you remember exactly who made you cum this hard.”
You were a moaning, whimpering mess, hips grinding desperately against the bulge in his pants while you tugged harder on his hair. The thick frames of his glasses kept pressing into your chest as he buried his face between your breasts, licking, sucking, and biting until your skin glistened with his spit and your tits were thoroughly claimed.
Gojo finally pulled back, admiring the fresh marks with a smug, hungry grin. “Look at you… all decorated for me. So fucking beautiful.”
His hands slid down your body, disappearing under the bunched-up dress. When his fingers reached your matching light blue lace panties, he let out a filthy chuckle.
“Goddamn, baby…” He rubbed two fingers along the crotch, feeling how completely drenched the thin fabric was. “You’re fucking soaked. These pretty blue panties are dripping down your thighs already. Such a messy little slut for me, huh?”
You whimpered in embarrassment and arousal as he teased you, rubbing slow, firm circles over your swollen clit through the soaked lace.
“So wet just from me sucking on your tits,” he taunted, voice low and dirty. “My greedy girl. Been aching for my fingers all day, haven’t you?”
Without waiting, he hooked the lace to the side, exposing your glistening, puffy pussy. Two thick fingers dragged slowly up your slick folds, spreading your wetness everywhere before focusing on your throbbing clit. He rubbed tight, insistent circles, making your thighs tremble around him.
“Toru— fuck—” you gasped, grinding down harder.
“That’s it. Use my hand like you used that toy on camera.” He pushed one long finger deep inside your tight heat without warning. You clenched hard around him, moaning loudly at the sudden fullness. He curled it perfectly against that sensitive spot, pumping slowly at first, then faster.
“So fucking tight and wet,” he groaned, adding a second thick finger. The lewd, squelching sounds of his fingers fucking into your soaked cunt grew louder as he picked up the pace. His thumb kept working your swollen clit in perfect rhythm while his mouth returned to your tits, sucking another dark hickey right above your nipple.
“Look how greedily this pussy is sucking my fingers in,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough with lust. “Can’t wait to replace them with my cock. Bet you’re gonna take every inch like the perfect girl you are.”
Your hands stayed tangled in his snowy hair, pulling desperately as the pleasure built hotter and faster. His fingers curled and thrust deep inside you, stroking that perfect spot over and over while his thumb relentlessly rubbed your swollen clit.
“Toru— oh my god, I’m gonna cum—” you gasped, the familiar coil in your stomach tightening dangerously.
“Go on, baby,” he growled against your tit, sucking hard. “Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”
The orgasm crashed into you hard. Your pussy clenched violently around his thick fingers as you came with a broken cry, gushing all over his hand and soaking the front of his slacks. Your thighs shook uncontrollably while he kept pumping slowly through it, milking every last wave.
You whined loudly at the overstimulation when he finally slid his fingers out. Gojo pulled back with a satisfied, predatory smile, admiring the mess you’d made. His hand was drenched, your release dripping down his wrist and onto his pants. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, groaning at your taste.
“Fuck, you taste even better in person,” he murmured. Then he dipped two fingers back into your still-spasming pussy, making you moan sharply at the fresh stretch.
He pulled them out again and held them up to your lips.
“Open.”
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers inside your mouth and you sucked them clean, tasting yourself on his skin while staring up at him through your lashes. Gojo’s eyes darkened further behind his glasses.
“Good fucking girl.” His voice was rough. “You want something else to suck on, baby?”
You nodded eagerly. Standing on shaky legs, you pushed the bunched sundress and strapless light blue bra the rest of the way off, leaving yourself completely bare. Your ruined, soaked panties were next. You hooked them off and threw the dripping lace directly at his face.
Gojo caught them with a low laugh, then shamelessly pressed the wet fabric to his nose and inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he was savoring you.
“Filthy girl,” he groaned, voice muffled by your panties.
You dropped to your knees between his spread thighs. Your hands worked quickly, unbuttoning his black dress shirt and pushing it open. You kissed every inch of skin you revealed—his collarbones, his toned chest, his abs—licking and sucking lightly as you went lower. When you reached his belt, you unbuckled it with teasing slowness and tugged his pants down.
The sight that greeted you made you giggle.
Digimon boxers.
Gojo’s ears turned pink again. “Don’t laugh—”
“They’re cute,” you teased, grinning up at him as you traced a finger over the cartoon print. “My big, cocky nerd has Digimon boxers. Adorable.”
Before he could retort, you pulled the boxers down. His cock sprang free—angry, thick, and long, the fat head flushed dark red and leaking precum steadily. The sheer size still made your mouth water.
You started slow and torturous. Leaning in, you gave his throbbing cock a few kitten licks, dragging your tongue along the underside and swirling it around the leaking tip. Gojo threw his head back against the couch with a groan, one hand gripping your hair.
“Fuck… baby, don’t tease—”
But you did. You licked and kissed every inch of his thick shaft, tracing the veins with the tip of your tongue while completely avoiding taking him into your mouth. You sucked lightly on the head, tasting his salty precum, then pulled back to blow cool air on the wet skin.
Gojo’s hips jerked. “Shit— put it in your mouth. Please.”
You looked up at him innocently, still licking lazy stripes. “But I like teasing you, Toru…”
You sucked just the tip between your lips, swirling your tongue around it before pulling off with a wet pop. Then you repeated it—shallow sucks, long licks, gentle kisses along his balls—driving him crazy.
His grip in your hair tightened. His voice grew more desperate. “Baby… fuck, I need it. Stop teasing and suck my cock properly. I’ve waited so fucking long—”
You finally took him deeper, but still not enough, bobbing slowly on just half his length while your hand stroked the rest. Gojo’s abs flexed, his thighs tensing around you.
“More— fuck, please. Take it all, princess. I know you can. You took that thick toy so well on camera… show me how much better you are with the real thing.”
You moaned around him at his begging, the vibration making him curse. You finally sank down further, relaxing your throat until your nose pressed against his pelvis, taking every thick inch.
“Fuuuck— yes, just like that!” Gojo’s head fell back again, glasses slightly crooked. “Good girl— such a good fucking girl. Your throat feels so perfect… shit—”
You started moving faster, sucking him hard with wet, filthy sounds, one hand cupping his balls while the other stroked what you couldn’t fit. Gojo was panting now, hips twitching as he fought not to fuck your face.
“Baby— fuck— I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that. You’re gonna make me cum down your throat if you don’t slow down…”
He was officially begging, voice wrecked and needy.
“Please— let me fuck your mouth properly. Or let me fuck you. I need to be inside you so bad it hurts…”
You pulled off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing tip. Looking up at him with a mischievous smile, you stroked his slick length slowly with your hand.
“Be a good boy for me, Toru,” you purred, voice husky. Then you sank back down, taking him all the way to the back of your throat in one smooth motion.
“Fuuuuck—!” Gojo’s hips bucked as you deepthroated him, your nose pressed flush against his pelvis. You swallowed around his thick cock, working your throat muscles.
“I’m— shit, baby, I’m gonna cum—” he warned, voice strained, trying to gently pull you off.
You shook your head stubbornly, refusing to let him go. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, watery but determined.
Gojo’s breath hitched. “You want it in your mouth? You want me to fill that pretty throat?”
You nodded eagerly, humming around his cock.
That was all it took.
Gojo groaned loudly and grabbed your head with both hands, fingers tangling in your hair. He started fucking your throat in earnest—deep, rough thrusts that made your eyes roll back. Tears spilled down your cheeks, smearing your makeup as you gagged and drooled around his massive cock. The wet, obscene sounds of him using your mouth filled the living room.
“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this,” he panted, staring down at you in awe. “Makeup ruined… tears running down your face… eyes all fucked out… taking my cock so deep. My perfect girl.”
His thrusts grew erratic. With a loud, broken groan, Gojo buried himself as deep as possible and came hard down your throat. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your mouth as his cock pulsed against your tongue.
You gave him one final, slow suck, milking every last drop before swallowing it all. Gojo watched with hazy, lust-drunk eyes as you pulled off his cock, breathing hard.
He quickly pulled you up from the floor and settled you back on his lap, your bare, dripping pussy resting right against his still-hard cock.
“Open,” he commanded softly.
You obediently parted your lips. Gojo looked inside your mouth, and a sweet, almost tender smile broke across his flushed face when he saw you’d swallowed every drop.
“Good girl,” he whispered, voice full of affection. He cupped the back of your head and pulled you into a deep, messy kiss. You could still taste yourself and him on each other’s tongues.
Without breaking the kiss, Gojo stood up, lifting you effortlessly with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom. You could feel his cock—already rock-hard again—pressed hot and heavy between your bodies, smearing precum against your stomach with every step.
He kicked the bedroom door open and laid you down on the bed, hovering over you with that familiar wicked smirk, glasses still slightly askew on his handsome face. His snowy hair was a complete mess from your earlier tugging, and his lips were kiss-swollen.
Instead of immediately diving back into something rough, Gojo lowered himself on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He braced himself on his forearms and started kissing your face gently—soft, reverent presses of his lips against your forehead, your tear-streaked cheeks, the corners of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered between kisses, voice low and warm. “Even when you’re all messy and ruined from sucking my cock… still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
His mouth moved lower, trailing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. One of his hands caressed your side, thumb brushing over the curve of your waist while his hard cock rested heavy and hot against your inner thigh, twitching with renewed interest.
You shivered under the contrast—the sweetness of his gentle kisses after how roughly he’d fucked your throat just minutes ago. Your hands slid up his bare back, feeling the flex of muscle as he moved.
Gojo pulled back just enough to look at you, blue eyes soft behind the lenses of his glasses.
“You okay, baby?” he asked tenderly, brushing a strand of hair off your face. “Not too much?”
When you shook your head and smiled, his expression shifted back into something darker and hungrier. He kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hand moved between your bodies. His long fingers found your soaked pussy once more, stroking your slick folds lazily.
“Still so wet for me,” he murmured against your lips. “Even after swallowing my load… this greedy little cunt is dripping again.”
He pushed two fingers inside you slowly, curling them while his thumb circled your clit. At the same time, he kept kissing you—your lips, your cheeks, your neck—a perfect mix of sweet and filthy.
“I want to fuck you properly now,” he breathed, nipping at your earlobe. “Want to feel this tight pussy wrapped around my cock. Can I, princess? Can I bury myself inside you and fill you up until you’re shaking again?”
“Yes, Toru,” you whispered, voice trembling with need. “Please.”
Gojo pressed the head of his cock against your slick entrance, but then paused. He must have felt how tense you were, because he pulled back slightly and looked down at you with soft, concerned eyes behind his slightly crooked glasses.
“Hey… wait,” he murmured gently, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “You look a little nervous, baby. I can see it. If this is too much too soon, I’ll be happy to eat you out instead. I don’t mind at all. I could spend hours between your thighs with my tongue buried in this pretty pussy until you’re nice and relaxed… or even until you can’t take anymore. You don’t have to force it if it hurts.”
His offer was so sweet and genuine that it made your heart flutter, but the ache between your legs only grew stronger.
You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “No… I want you inside me, Toru. I’ve waited so long. I can take it. Just… go slow.”
Gojo searched your face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But the second it’s too much, you tell me. Promise?”
“Promise.”
He kissed you deeply, slow and reassuring, as he reached down and lined up his thick cock again. The fat, leaking head nudged against your entrance and slowly pushed inside.
The stretch was immediate and intense.
You gasped sharply, eyes widening as just the tip breached you. He was so much bigger than any of your toys. The burning fullness made your breath catch in your throat. No amount of dildos had prepared your body for the real girth and length of Satoru Gojo.
Gojo froze the moment he felt your tension, only the head of his cock inside you. He immediately started comforting you, pressing soft kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, your lips.
“Shh, baby, breathe,” he whispered tenderly. “You’re doing so good. Just relax for me.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, while one hand gently stroked your side. “Are you okay? I can stop right now if you want. We have all night. I’m not going anywhere.”
You shook your head quickly, determined. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck and hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Don’t stop,” you breathed against his mouth. “I want all of you… please.”
Gojo groaned softly at your words, but kept his pace torturously slow. He rocked his hips gently, feeding you another inch, then another, murmuring constant praise and comfort the whole time.
“That’s my good girl… so tight and warm. Fuck, you feel incredible. Just keep breathing, princess. You’re taking me so well.”
You moaned loudly when he sank even deeper. The pressure was overwhelming.
“Toru… you’re too deep—” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.
Gojo let out a soft, strained chuckle, forehead pressed against yours. His glasses were fogged from the heat between you.
“Baby… I’m only halfway,” he confessed, voice rough with the effort of holding back.
Your eyes widened in shock. Only halfway? You already felt so impossibly full.
Seeing your reaction, Gojo reached over to your bedside drawer without pulling out. He rummaged for a second and pulled out the familiar pink vibrator. He clicked it on to a low, gentle buzz and pressed the vibrating head firmly against your swollen clit.
The sudden pleasure made you moan loudly, your pussy fluttering and growing even wetter around the thick cock stretching you open.
“There we go,” Gojo murmured, kissing your neck as he slowly pushed forward again. “Let the vibrator help you, baby. Get nice and wet for me. I want you dripping down my cock.”
The combination of his gentle kisses, the soothing low buzz on your clit, and his deep, reassuring voice worked wonders. Your body gradually relaxed, becoming slicker and more eager with every passing second. Gojo kept feeding you more of his length, rocking slowly until—with one final, careful thrust—his hips pressed flush against yours.
He bottomed out completely, buried to the hilt inside you.
“Fuck…” he groaned deeply, voice strained with pleasure. “That’s it, princess. Every single inch. You took all of me like such a good girl.”
He stayed still for a long moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness while the vibrator continued teasing your clit. His lips never stopped moving—kissing your face, your neck, and your tits—while he whispered filthy praises mixed with sweet reassurance.
“You feel so fucking perfect around me… so hot and tight. I’ve been dreaming about this for months. Just tell me when you’re ready for me to move, baby. I’ll go as slow as you need.”
“Yes, please,” you moaned, legs tightening around his waist. “Move, Toru… I need it.”
Gojo kissed you softly one more time, then slowly rolled his hips in one long, experimental thrust. The feeling was overwhelming. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. You felt like you were floating on cloud nine—the real thing was so much better than any toy you’d ever used. The way his cock filled you completely, the heat of him, the way he throbbed inside you… it was addictive.
A broken, blissful moan spilled from your lips.
“Fuck… Toru—”
Gojo groaned at the sound, but kept his pace slow and deep at first, letting you get used to him. He watched your face intently, drinking in every expression while the pink vibrator continued buzzing gently against your clit.
Eventually the slow, teasing thrusts weren’t enough. The ache inside you grew into pure desperation.
“Harder,” you begged, nails digging into his back. “Please, Toru… fuck me harder.”
Gojo’s eyes darkened with pure lust. A wicked grin spread across his face.
“Yeah? My baby wants it rough?” He pulled his hips back and slammed back in harder, making your back arch off the bed. “Like this?”
“Yes— fuck, yes!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Gojo dropped the gentle pace completely and started fucking you with deep, powerful thrusts. Every time he drove forward, the fat head of his cock kissed your cervix, sending sharp sparks of pleasure-pain through your body. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as he pounded into you.
His glasses were completely fogged up from the heat and exertion, the lenses white with condensation. With an impatient growl, Gojo ripped them off and tossed them somewhere onto the floor.
The sight of him—messy white hair, intense blue eyes no longer hidden, flushed cheeks, looking completely wrecked and feral—hit you hard. You clenched violently around his cock, your pussy squeezing him even tighter.
Gojo noticed immediately.
“Fuck— did you just squeeze me harder because I took my glasses off?” He laughed breathlessly, but his voice was thick with arousal. “You really like me like this, huh? All messy and desperate for you?”
He slammed into you even harder, punctuating his words with brutal thrusts.
“You’re so fucking cute… getting turned on by something so simple. My pretty girl has a thing for seeing my face when I ruin her, doesn’t she?”
You could only moan helplessly in response, your walls fluttering and clenching around his thick length as he railed you. Gojo was completely mesmerized by the view beneath him—your mouth open, letting out those sinful, broken sounds with every thrust, your tits bouncing wildly, and your tight pussy stretching obscenely around him. A creamy white ring of your mixed arousal was forming at the base of his cock, growing thicker every time he buried himself to the hilt.
“God, look at that,” he groaned, eyes locked between your bodies. “You’re creaming so much on my cock, baby. Making such a pretty mess. This pussy was made for me.”
He angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot inside you with every powerful thrust, the vibrator still buzzing relentlessly against your swollen clit. The pleasure was building dangerously fast.
He angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot inside you with every powerful thrust, the vibrator still buzzing relentlessly against your swollen clit. The pleasure was building dangerously fast.
That familiar coil tightened deep in your stomach again. Your walls fluttered wildly around his thick cock as you gasped out desperately.
“Toru— Toru please, can I cum? I’m so close— please let me cum!”
Gojo’s grip on your hip tightened, his thrusts growing even more intense. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me. Let me feel this greedy little pussy squeeze my cock while you fall apart.”
You shattered.
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cried out his name loudly as your pussy clenched violently around him, gushing and spasming hard. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, your back arched sharply off the bed, and your eyes rolled back as you came harder than you ever had.
Gojo fucked you through every second of it, deep, steady thrusts that prolonged your high while the vibrator kept buzzing mercilessly against your oversensitive clit. “That’s it— fuck, good girl. So fucking tight when you cum for me.”
As your orgasm finally started to fade and you were left trembling and whimpering, Gojo’s pace became erratic. His breathing was ragged.
“Baby— where do you want it? Where can I cum?”
“Inside,” you moaned, still dazed and sensitive. “Cum inside me, Toru. Please fill me up.”
Gojo’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You’re sure? You really want me to creampie you?”
“Yes— I’m sure. I want it. All of it.”
That broke him.
With a deep, guttural groan, Gojo slammed in to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy as his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you. He kept rolling his hips, pushing every drop as deep as possible until you were completely stuffed full of him and his release.
He stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, both of you panting and trembling as you came down together. Gojo leaned down and started peppering your face with soft, loving kisses—your forehead, your tear-streaked cheeks, the tip of your nose, and your swollen lips.
“You were so perfect for me,” he whispered between kisses. “Such a good girl. Took my cock so well… let me fill you up like that. I’m so proud of you, baby.”
After a while, he finally pulled out slowly. You moaned loudly at the sensitivity, your pussy clenching around nothing. A thick, creamy trickle of your mixed releases immediately leaked out of your used hole, dripping down your ass and onto the sheets.
Gojo stared at the filthy sight with dark, satisfied eyes for a moment. Then a mischievous idea sparked.
“Can I borrow your phone for a second, princess?”
You handed it over without hesitation. He opened your cam page, angled the camera between your spread legs, and took a clear, close-up picture of your creampied pussy—puffy, red, glistening, and leaking his cum.
He typed a simple but possessive caption:
"Looks like someone finally claimed his favorite camgirl ♡"
The post went live and immediately exploded. Notifications flooded the screen.
SixEyesOnly sent 150,000 tokens
“HOLY SHIT IS THAT SIXEYESONLY?!”
“We knew it was him lmao”
“That creampie is insane… she’s actually taken now?”
“Who else would be bold enough to post on her page like this”
Gojo smirked, clearly pleased, and set the phone aside.
Then his entire demeanor softened completely. He pulled you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest. He reached over and turned off the vibrator, setting it aside before grabbing a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom. He cleaned you up carefully between your legs, gentle and thorough, while murmuring soft praises the entire time.
“You did so well tonight,” he whispered, stroking your hair and rubbing slow circles on your back. “My perfect girl. How are you feeling? Any soreness? Need anything else—water, snacks, a shower?”
He helped you drink some water, then pulled the covers over both of you and held you close, skin against skin. His fingers continued tracing lazy patterns along your spine as the two of you basked in the afterglow.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Gojo kissed your forehead tenderly.
“So…” he started softly, voice a little hesitant but hopeful. “Are we on the same page about where this is headed?”
You looked up at him, heart fluttering. “I think so. I don’t want this to be just… casual. Not after everything.”
Gojo’s face lit up with that bright, genuine smile you loved. He kissed your forehead again, then your lips.
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “I want you. For real. Not just the cam stuff, not just the sex—though that part is incredible,” he added with a playful smirk. “I want to date you properly. Take you out more, be with you after class, be the only one who gets to see you like this… the only one who gets to fill you up and hold you afterwards.”
He hugged you tighter, resting his chin on top of your head.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time. Way before I ever found your account. So if you’ll have me… I’m yours.”
You melted into his chest, feeling safe, warm, and incredibly happy.
mornings like this had become his new normal ever since you and ryo crashed into his life and turned everything upside down—in the best possible way. he lay there for a moment, crimson eyes softening at the sight of you curled up beside him. your hair was a beautiful mess across the pillow, one arm slung over his chest and a leg tangled between his. you were clinging to him even in your sleep, like you were afraid he’d disappear.
a rare, genuine smile tugged at sukuna’s lips. he leaned in and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of you.
“sleep a little longer,” he murmured against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. carefully, he untangled your limbs, replacing his body with a pillow so you wouldn’t stir too much. you made a small, sleepy sound and hugged the pillow closer. good enough.
after brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face, sukuna padded down the hallway toward the nursery.
the second he pushed the door open, a delighted voice greeted him.
“papa!”
ryo was already standing up in his crib, tiny hands gripping the railing, pink hair sticking up wildly just like his dad’s. his face lit up with the biggest, gummiest smile, bouncing on his chubby legs like he’d been waiting hours instead of minutes.
sukuna’s smirk widened as he crossed the room. “yeah, yeah. morning, brat.” he lifted ryo out effortlessly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head before settling him against his hip. ryo immediately grabbed a fistful of sukuna’s tank top, babbling happily.
sukuna then placed ryo in the living room’s playpen and gave him his milk in a sippy cup, turning on the tv to his favorite cartoons. the colorful animation immediately captured the little one’s attention, soft giggles filling the room as ryo clutched his cup with both hands.
afterwards, he made his way to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. today was your first day back in school, so he had to make sure it was something solid—eggs, rice, grilled fish, and fresh fruit on the side. he’d been the one to persuade you to return after he graduated a few months ago. it hadn’t been easy. you had your own bad case of separation anxiety, always hesitating with those worried eyes and the soft murmur of, “maybe i should wait another semester?”
every time, sukuna would pull you close, tattooed arms wrapping around you as he reassured you in that low, steady voice. “it’s fine. i’ve got him. i pushed back my master’s for a year so i could take care of both of you. go. you’ve already put enough on hold.”
he wasn’t about to let you sacrifice any more than you already had.
the sound of soft footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. you appeared in the doorway, still wearing his oversized black shirt that draped loosely over your frame, a sheet mask clinging to your face. you padded over quietly and wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his broad, muscular back.
“still sleepy?” sukuna asked, his voice low and amused as he continued stirring the pot with one hand. the other reached back to rest on your arm, thumb brushing your skin gently.
you nodded against him. “mhm…”
he chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. setting the spoon down, he turned in your embrace, gently peeling the edge of your facemask up so he could lean down and kiss you—first on the forehead, then a slow, lingering one on your lips. his free hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary.
“go sit with the brat for a bit,” he murmured against your mouth. “i’ll finish this.”
you smiled sleepily under the mask and made your way to the living room. the second you stepped into view, ryo’s face immediately lit up.
“mama!” he squealed, dropping his sippy cup with a clatter and standing up in the playpen with wobbly excitement. his little arms reached out desperately toward you, eyes sparkling with pure joy as happy giggles bubbled up and chased away any hint of morning fussiness. he bounced on his chubby legs, nearly tipping over in his eagerness, clearly thrilled to see his favorite person in the whole world.
you couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across your face, even with the sheet mask still clinging to your skin. you crossed the living room quickly and scooped him up into your arms, his small body fitting perfectly against yours. ryo immediately buried his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling in as he clutched at the oversized shirt you were wearing—sukuna’s shirt—with both tiny fists. “mama… mama,” he babbled happily, the words muffled against your skin. he was all warm and clingy, his soft baby scent mixing with the faint smell of milk and the laundry detergent from his pajamas.
“good morning, ryo,” you greeted softly, voice still a little raspy from sleep. you leaned in and blew a big raspberry into his chubby cheek, then the other. the toddler burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles, his whole body squirming with delight. his little hands reached up to pat at your face, fingers curiously grabbing the edge of your sheet mask and tugging it slightly askew.
“mamaaa!” he squealed again, half-laughing, half-protesting as the mask crinkled under his touch.
you laughed along with him, adjusting your grip so he wouldn’t accidentally peel the whole thing off. “mama’s baby is getting bigger every day, huh? look at you standing so strong in that playpen. pretty soon you’ll be running around and causing all kinds of trouble, just like your papa.”
still holding ryo close, you carried him toward the kitchen where sukuna was plating breakfast. the delicious smells of rice, grilled fish, and fresh fruit filled the air. as soon as you reached the kitchen island, sukuna turned around, that signature smirk softening the moment he saw the two of you.
without a word, he stepped closer and leaned down. you both showered ryo with affection at the same time—you pressing a kiss to his right cheek while sukuna kissed the left. the coordinated attack sent ryo into another round of delighted giggles. he wriggled between you, head turning from one parent to the other as if he couldn’t decide who to look at first, his tiny hands grabbing at sukuna’s tank top and your shirt.
“more!” he demanded in his limited toddler vocabulary, clearly loving every second of being the center of attention from both his mama and papa. ryo had always thrived on this—being sandwiched between the two people he adored most. his giggles echoed through the kitchen, bright and infectious, making the early morning feel even warmer.
sukuna’s low chuckle rumbled beside you as he straightened up, one large hand gently ruffling ryo’s fluffy pink hair. “greedy little brat,” he said fondly, though there was no bite to it. his crimson eyes flicked to you, softening further as he brushed a thumb over your cheek, fixing the crooked sheet mask. “you two are gonna make it impossible for me to finish cooking.”
you smiled and carefully set ryo down into his high chair, strapping him in securely with the familiar click of the buckle. he kicked his legs happily, still riding the high of all the attention. sukuna slid a small bowl of cut-up fruits—soft banana slices, strawberries, and bits of mango—across the tray. ryo’s eyes lit up. without hesitation, he grabbed a handful of banana slices with his chubby fist and shoved them straight into his mouth, smacking loudly with pure toddler satisfaction.
“slow down, baby,” you laughed softly, reaching over to gently wipe a bit of fruit from his cheek. meanwhile, sukuna was still at the stove, mashing more sweet potato with a fork, mixing in a touch of apple puree for flavor. the kitchen was filled with the cozy sounds of morning: ryo’s messy eating, the scrape of utensils, and the low hum of cartoons still playing in the background.
you finally peeled off the rest of your sheet mask, tossing it into the nearby trash bin with a satisfied sigh. the cool air felt nice against your freshly moisturized skin. hunger hit you properly now, so you dug into the breakfast sukuna had prepared—perfectly seasoned eggs, warm rice, grilled fish, and a side of fresh fruit. every bite was comforting and flavorful, exactly what you needed before facing your first day back on campus.
“mmm… thank you,” you murmured between bites, glancing up at sukuna with grateful eyes. he gave you a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he plated more food and brought it over.
“eat properly,” he grunted, though the command was laced with care. he leaned down to drop a quick kiss on the top of your head before returning to finish ryo’s mashed food. ryo, meanwhile, was happily alternating between shoving more fruit into his mouth and reaching out to “share” with you, offering a very squished strawberry in his sticky palm.
you accepted the offering with a dramatic “yum!” that made him burst into giggles again. sukuna watched the exchange while spooning the finished mash onto ryo’s plate, his expression relaxed in a way it rarely was outside these walls.
right on time, ryo finished scraping the bottom of his fruit bowl with eager little fingers. his eyes widened with delight the moment sukuna placed the fresh bowl of warm mashed sweet potato and apple in front of him. a happy squeal escaped him as he patted the tray excitedly, already leaning forward in anticipation.
“he’s got your appetite,” you teased softly, watching your son with fond amusement. ryo had always been a big eater, just like his papa—never picky, happily devouring whatever was put in front of him. it was part of why he was on the chonkier side, with those adorably plump cheeks and sturdy little legs. his pediatrician always reassured you that he was perfectly healthy and tracking well on the growth charts, but it still made you melt every time you saw how much he could pack away.
sukuna let out a low huff of pride as he pulled up a chair beside the high chair. “good. means he’s strong.” he took the spoon and gently nudged you back toward your own plate. “keep eating. i’ve got him.”
you pouted, fork paused halfway to your mouth. “but i can feed him while i—”
“no,” sukuna cut in firmly, though his tone was gentle. he scooped a bit of mash and brought it to ryo’s mouth, which opened obediently like a little bird. “you’ve got a long day ahead. sit. eat. let me handle this.”
ryo hummed happily around the spoon, kicking his legs under the tray as he chewed. true to form, he showed zero complaints—swallowing quickly and already opening his mouth for the next bite. sukuna fed him with practiced patience, occasionally wiping the corners of ryo’s mouth with the bib. the toddler’s chubby cheeks puffed out with each mouthful, making him look even rounder and more precious.
you couldn’t help but watch them, your heart swelling at the sight. sukuna’s large, tattooed hand looked so careful holding the small spoon, his usual sharp demeanor completely gone as he murmured quiet encouragement to ryo between bites. “that’s it. big bites, just like papa.”
ryo ate with gusto, cheeks puffing out happily as he cleaned the bowl. by the time both he and you had finished breakfast, the kitchen was filled with satisfied little sighs and the clink of empty dishes.
you stood up first, stretching lightly. “i’ll go finish getting ready,” you told sukuna, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek and then one to the top of ryo’s head. the toddler beamed up at you, still in a food-happy daze.
sukuna nodded, already wiping ryo’s hands and face with a warm cloth. “take your time. we’ll be in the living room.”
once ryo was unstrapped and cleaned up, sukuna carried him over to the playpen. he set the little boy down gently, turned on his favorite colorful cartoons, and then settled on the couch with his laptop. ryo was instantly distracted—standing up on his chubby legs and dancing along to the upbeat theme song, arms waving and body swaying in that adorably uncoordinated toddler way. his giggles mixed with the cartoon sounds, completely absorbed and happy.
in the master bedroom, you took a little extra time getting ready. you changed out of sukuna’s oversized shirt into a comfortable yet cute outfit suitable for your first day back—soft jeans, a simple blouse, light makeup, and your bag packed with notebooks and essentials. the nerves fluttered in your stomach, but knowing sukuna had everything handled at home made it easier to breathe.
when you finally stepped back into the living room, the sight that greeted you warmed you from the inside out. sukuna was focused on his laptop, occasionally glancing up at ryo with a small, proud smirk. meanwhile, your son was still dancing in the playpen, now trying to mimic the cartoon characters with enthusiastic little hops. he looked so content, pink hair bouncing, no signs of distress at all.
you approached quietly and leaned over the back of the couch first, wrapping your arms around sukuna’s shoulders from behind. “i’m heading out,” you whispered.
sukuna turned his head immediately, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. what started as a simple goodbye kiss quickly deepened. his lips lingered, warm and insistent, pulling you closer as the kiss grew slower and more heated. you melted into it for a moment, fingers threading through his pink hair.
you pulled back just enough to breathe, laughing softly against his mouth. “if you keep kissing me like that, i’m really going to be late for class on my first day.”
sukuna’s smirk was downright dangerous, crimson eyes half-lidded. “good,” he muttered, chasing your lips again. before you knew it, the two of you were caught in a proper makeout session right there on the couch—his free hand sliding down your waist, pulling you half over the back of the sofa as the kiss turned hungry and passionate.
a particularly loud cartoon jingle and ryo’s happy squeal reminded you exactly where you were.
you broke away with a breathless laugh, gently pushing at sukuna’s chest. “sukuna—our son is right there!”
he didn’t look the least bit sorry. instead, that wicked grin widened as he rested his forehead against yours. “maybe it’s time for a sibling then. give the brat someone to play with.”
you nudged him firmly in the chest, cheeks burning even as you tried (and failed) to hide your smile. “you’re impossible.”
sukuna chuckled lowly, stealing one last quick kiss before finally letting you go. “can’t blame me. you look too good leaving the house.”
still a little flushed, you moved to the playpen. ryo noticed you immediately and reached up with a bright grin, still swaying to the music. you lifted him out for a moment, hugging him close and peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.
“bye-bye, my sweet boy. mama loves you so much. be good for papa, okay?”
ryo giggled and patted your face, happily distracted by the cartoons still playing and the leftover energy from dancing. “bye-bye, mama!” he babbled cheerfully, planting a messy kiss somewhere near your chin.
you set him back down gently, watching as he immediately returned to his dancing, completely unbothered. sukuna gave you one last heated look from the couch, full of promise for later.
“see you later,” you said softly, blowing them both a final kiss from the doorway.
with your boys settled and happy—and your lips still tingling—you stepped out feeling lighter than you expected.
n e wayysss i loveeeee your worksss esp the old ones. was wondering if you have plans on continuing your red zone series (srry if u already answered this one, i js got back from reading here again, got busy with stupid college) thank you!
yes!! I'm just rewriting it and will be posted soon!
I'm so mad because I haven't got good enough sleep since they announced Valko's cancellation and Infold decided to hit us with a multi banner. A FUCKING MULTI BANNER.
This decision would have been fine with me if they decided to go on with the original plan of adding another LI but nope, they decided to bring Wander in Wonder because they know it will be an easy cash grab.
Now, I hope you fucking antis are happy with this, because all you care about is multi banners and not the main story line. Today should've have been a main story line update, new orbits, etc. Valko's story should've have been an eye opener to MC's Aether Core, but of course you antis don't even care about those kind of things lol.
You don't care about the developers, the VAs, the storyline, the time and effort they put in making Valko, and all you guys cared was pulling multi banners.
I'm also kinda glad and laughing because I know this isn't the outcome the antis wanted, because Infold's also giving them the silent treatment plus there's a high chance of things being censored and edited all because they hated Valko's appearance.
Nevertheless, the fight isn't over because we still don't have any announcement and accountability for all of these mess.
