mrsimpurity

[mrsimpurity]

it’s late enough that the city outside your window has gone quiet, the faint hum of traffic replaced by the steady tick of the clock on the wall. you’re sprawled in bed, warm under the covers, thumb lazily scrolling through your phone when you hear the familiar sound of keys turning in the lock.

a moment later, the door shuts with a soft thud, followed by the dull clink of his watch hitting the dresser. nanami must be tired—he doesn’t even call out to let you know he’s home. probably thinks you’re asleep.

you peek up just as he steps into the bedroom, tie already loosened, his hair slightly mussed from the day. you smile at the slight surprise in his expression as he notices you still being awake and makes his way over to you.

“you’re not sleeping.”

“hello, handsome,” you push yourself to sit up just as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek and finally your lips. “i wanted to see you.”

he briefly pinches your cheek and shakes his head in a chiding manner before making his way to the closet.

you grin, watching him start on the buttons of his shirt.

“oooooh,” you draw it out like you’re hyping up a prizefighter, tossing your phone aside. “look at you, mister corporate. have you been hitting the gym? chest day?”

he pauses mid-button, glancing over with that patented are you serious? expression. “i’ve been hitting paperwork, if that’s what you mean.”

you roll onto your side, propping your chin on your hand. “give me a show. a little strip tease. i’ll even rate it.”

the sigh he lets out is equal parts tired and amused. “and what exactly do i get if i win?”

“bragging rights. eternal glory. maybe a kiss if you impress me.”

“ah. a kiss. tempting.”

but then he actually humors you. with deliberate slowness, he finishes unbuttoning his shirt, shoulders rolling and muscles on his back tightening for a moment as he throws you a lingering look over his shoulder, letting the fabric slide off in one smooth motion.

“that’s a 9.5,” you say, pretending to jot something down in the air. “bonus points if you use the tie creatively.”

he narrows his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. he steps closer, loosening the silk tie in one hand before spinning it lazily in the air, just once, then letting it drop over your head so it drapes around your shoulders.

you let out an exaggerated whistle. “eleven out of ten. you’re a natural.”

“your scale is inconsistent,” he murmurs, but there’s a definite glint in his eyes now.

when he pulls his undershirt off, he even tosses it onto the bed like he’s performing for an audience. you clap and whoop so loudly he shakes his head, muttering something about how you’re impossible.

but then he leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of you, his voice low but amused. “should i keep going, or have you seen enough?”

you grin up at him. “depends. how much is the premium package?”

he chuckles quietly, the sound warm against your skin as he kisses your cheek. “you can settle the bill later.”

by the time he slides into bed beside you, the silly act has given way to easy laughter, your head tucked against his shoulder. you swear you can feel him smiling in the dark.

[mrsimpurity]

first time taking bf!satoru - 18+ mdni ٠࣪⭑

taking satoru's dick for the first time in theory and in practice are two very different extremes. sure you'd felt him from grinding, from holding the weight of him in your palm under the sheets while you two were supposed to be 'watching a movie'. it felt doable for the most part—taking him.

you've heeded all his thinly veiled warnings long enough and tonight of all nights wasn't one where you two could exactly stop at just heavy petting. you'd even laughed at it beforehand, assured him that you could take him for the millionth time.

if you could slap your past self, you would. because now you're barely 2 minutes into him being inside of you. back spread on soft sheets, practically folded in half under satoru. legs slung over his shoulders, panting, practically vibrating from the effort of trying to get used to the sheer size of him.

"fuck—you gotta stop—" his fingers press harder into the undersides of your thighs where he has you held, hips rocking incrementally to get you adjusted to what he's given already. not even halfway in and you're already all noisy. "breathe for me, pretty? so I can give you the rest."

“t-the rest? ” you gasp, voice going embarrassingly high. it feels like he's been pushing in for ages now and now he's telling you that there's more? “that’s not all of it? are you sure?"

"i'm sure, trust me. just a little more." a bit more than a little, but you'd cross that bridge eventually. he presses a kiss to your knee—soft, lingering like he’s trying to ground both you and himself. "you said you could take it."

"i say a lot of things when I'm horny. you know—oh fuck—that!" you snap, voice breaking on the last word. "you're too big. this is all your fault, satoru."

"my fault?" he manages a huff despite the strain in his voice, brows knitted like he's the one struggling here. to be fair, he sort of is. "you said, and I quote—" his hips ease forward by an infinitesimal amount, just enough to have the bulb of him swabbing against your soft insides. it's enough for your jaw to go slack, toes curling near his ears. "—'please just fuck me already'. and to 'stop treating you like glass'." so here he is, not treating you like glass. not holding out on you. large hands press your thighs and knees closer to your chest, his body angled downward to drive into you with short, gentle thrusts.

"I don't even sound like that." you're clawing blindly at the bedding, airy sounds punching out of you like he's owed them.

"mhm. just breathe." he murmurs, voice rumbling low against your skin as he nudges deeper with the next roll of his hips—a slow, steady push, feeding you yet another inch. one hand leaves your thighs to slide up to your stomach, pressing in like he's trying to feel for himself there. "yeah...that's it, let me in.." the same hand settles just above where you're taking him to thumb at your arousal slick clit, your own darting to out the grab at his wrist. to no avail of course, since his thumb just keeps on moving in circle after circle.

“tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” he whispers, hips tilting just a little deeper. new slick from his teasing helps, sliding deeper with ease. “that's right...all the way. you're doing so well."

it's soft, so sweet and encouraging that you're reaching a hand out to bring him closer to you by the back of his neck. "m'good, 'toru. you're fine."

you can't help but wonder how much more he has left to give, what kind of monstrous beast he's been hiding under his briefs. curiosity gets the better of you, eyes dropping to where you've yet to fully connect.

and boy, do you regret it almost instantly.

it's near obscene. inches of him glistening and buried, folds parted against his girth. even with how long he's been easing in (or how long it feels at least), there's still a gap. his gaze follows yours, nosing gently at your ankle, hand squeezing your thigh. "you okay?"

the glisten of his flesh, the taut flex of his abdomen like he's holding back...no, you're not okay in the slightest.

you can feel your core flutter involuntarily at the sight and god, he feels it too.

“oh fuck,” satoru's voice breaks, forehead tipping down to rest against your forehead. “baby, please don’t do that. i'll...this really won't last long.”

"oops, sorry. sorry."

the bits of soft pink that aren't inside inch in-in-in with every second that passing. it's barely anything left to give, yet, he's being so careful. too careful."

"holy fuck, just do—shit!"

you're arching clean off the bed with the way he suddenly, finally hilts himself inside. bare behind flush to his hips, groomed hairs at his base grazing against your skin.

he’s silent for a moment, breathing slow, forehead still dampened and pressed down against yours. "..okay, I have bad news."

you're a little drunk on him, just lucid enough to manage a small hm, nails scraping through the damp hair at his nape.

"there's...there's a high chance that I'll cum if I move."

even in your state, laughter breaks out of you, the heavy man above you flushing a soft pink from the highs of his cheeks up to his ears. murmuring something about it 'not being that funny' and him 'embarrassing himself here'.

"stay still then." you finally breathe when your laughter dies down just enough, smile all gentle up at him, lips brushing against the sharp point of his nose. "we'll just stay like this all night." the pain had properly eased into a dull, barely there ache at that point—more pleasure than any other feeling. with how he'd taken his time, it'd been almost inevitable.

"can't just not move," he replies through gritted teeth, hips shifting just a hair. enough for you both to feel the heavy drag, the way your walls clench instinctively. "god—I can't not move when you feel like that."

it's endearing in a way, very much flattering. your grin only widens, head lifting to angle your mouth against his with a firm kiss. "i'm close too if that makes you feel any better."

words meant to help only make him whine, throbbing inside you, hips beginning to rock slowly. "you are?"

"mhmm. very close." you let out a strangled sound when his hips angle just right and it's enough for him to give up on pacing himself. his weight crushes your thighs against your chest, pace building. "so just keep moving. please."

the sounds leaving you are a mix of 'ahh's' and calls of his name, all broken, all sending his hips into you a little faster. they stutter as he fucks into you with less and less finesse, 0 rhyme or rhythm just the need to see you cum for him like this. hips slapping against the back of your thighs, paced breaths dually filling the room. "you feel so good. taking me so well." and when his thumb finds your clit again with those same, easy circles? you're a goner. "gonna cum--gonna- oh my god, keep doing that—" he finds that spot from before over and over again like there's a target stuck to it, leaky tip wedging itself right where you need it, pleasure mounting far too quickly. you're crying out at this point, hips angling up into his thrusts. so full it hurts in that perfect, dizzying way.

“fuck, you're gonna make me—”

“shut up and cum,” you choke out. “do it inside. pleaseplease—”

his entire body jolts, pace faltering. you feel him twitch deep inside you before it hits, his hips driving in and out hard—once, twice, and then he’s moaning into your mouth as he spills. he drags you down with him, pressure in your abdomen bursting, unfurling outwards with your release—his name still falling from your lips. helpless sounds that only spur the continued movement of his hips to draw out the pleasure.

you're both shaking, sucking in breaths of air greedily for moments after that. you're still folded like a pretzel, still crushed against his weight. "that one doesn't count."

"agreed."

࣪ ִֶָ☾. a/n: ty for reading ⭑.ᐟ

๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ temp mlist: #sena's script ⏾ for all works ⭑.ᐟ

[mrsimpurity]

18+

if there’s one thing to gripe about when you marry a man as obscenely perfect as kento nanami—though calling it a flaw feels blasphemous—is that when you want to be tossed like a ragdoll and fucked breathless against the kitchen counter, he brings you a glass of wine and a foot massage instead. (by no means a complaint) you love him. and you love the vanilla sex. but sometimes you want to be ravaged instead of worshipped.

“ken,” you say one night, kneeling up on the bed while he unbuttons his shirt, “do you think you could, like… manhandle me a little?” he pauses. “you want me to hurt you?”

“not hurt hurt. you’re so gentle. always.” you tilt your head. “i want to be roughed up. pulled around. pinned down. i want to feel how strong you are.” his expression twitches, baffled and a bit concerned, like you’d just asked him to choke out a nun.

“i see,” he says after a moment. “…and this would bring you pleasure?”

“ken.” you crawl toward him, fingers curling over his waitband. “i get wet thinking about your hands. if you held me down properly i think i’d lose consciousness.”

he lets out a breath through his nose. after weighing the odds, his hand closes around your neck and you see something stifle and spark behind his gaze.

“then lie back,” he says coldly, “and don’t speak unless it’s to say thank you.”

what follows is depraved and exquisite. he shoves the hem of your nightdress around your waist, rips down your panties before spitting into the heat between your legs. two thick fingers enter you without gentleness. a broken whimper escapes your throat, and his palm smacks your thigh, sharp and stinging.

“stay still.”

your body locks up. incredibly aroused, your pussy flutters shamelessly around his fingers and he clicks his tongue.

“filthy girl. is this what you wanted? debased?”

“yes,” you gasp. “please, yes—”

his hand slides up, fingers squeezing your cheeks together until your lips pucker. “you are my wife. if you want to be ravaged, i will be the one to do it.”

and ravage you, he does. over the mattress, with your face pressed into the sheets, hair wrapped tightly in his fist, spine arched as he fucks into you, harder than he ever has before, each thrust battering your cervix like he’s trying to carve the shape of his cock into you. when the ache twists into a sob, he stops cold, buried deep, breath sawing through his nose like it’s him who’s in pain.

pulls out. holds your waist. looks down. you’re shaking. not with fear though.

“don’t stop,” you whisper, voice barely functional. “i want the whole thing. i can take it. please, ken.”

his eyes soften. and then he lines back up and slides home with a guttural groan.

“then take it,” he says, and fists your hair. “all of it.”

and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

you wake up the next morning sore and so thoroughly fucked, your legs wobble like a newborn foal when you walk. kento meets you in the doorway with tea, your favourite sweater folded over his arm, and a calm smile like he hadn’t spent the night fucking the sanity out of you. he eases you toward the bath he’s already drawn, bubbles steaming, lavender in the air, and steadies you by the waist. “easy,” he kisses your temple, like it’s a privilege to care for you. and it is. “next time, you’ll use the safe word before you cry. okay? i don’t want to really hurt you.”

you smile and nod. you’ve never felt more loved.

[mrsimpurity]

mirror sex with husband!nanami on your honeymoon content: mirror sex, praise kink, riding him, pet names, fluff, 18+, wc: 1k

The hotel suite is hushed, wrapped in the soft stillness of midnight when you step finally inside. Below, the sound of the city is muffled by floor to ceiling windows and thick velvet curtains. It’s warm, intimate – a night for just the two of you to share. That, and a lifetime ahead.

You’re still glowing – from champagne, from dancing, from the thrill of being his. Of finally calling Nanami your husband. You’ve loved each other for years now, but tonight it feels like you’re falling in love with him all over again. When you’re with him, it seems like love does more than just endure; it deepens, softens, blooms anew, like your heart keeps finding new ways to hold him.

The night went perfectly, a romantic candlelit dinner on the rooftop terrace, the city lights flickering below like stars just for the both of you, his hand warm over yours the whole time. Nanami had barely taken his eyes off you the whole night; not since the moment you stepped out in that silk dress, wearing the same perfume you used to put on when you had first started dating.

The moment the door clicks shut, he’s already slowly backing you against the wall, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You gasp softly as his hands find your waist, sliding down the soft curve of your hips. It’s slow and deliberate, like he’s professing his love to you with every touch, every breath, even though he already knows your body like the back of his hand.

“My pretty wife,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your neck. “My gorgeous girl. Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” you whisper back, turning your head just enough to catch his mouth in a kiss. And then a tad wistfully, you add, “I don’t want tonight to end.”

“We have our whole lives together,” Nanami promises. “And besides, the night isn’t over...” His hands are already trailing up to find the zipper of your dress. He leans closer now, breath hot against your jaw. “Can I take this off you?”

You nod, breath stuttering. In all the excitement of tonight, you’d almost forgotten what you were wearing underneath – a delicate lace set picked out just for him. Soft ivory, trimmed with satin and bows, lies sheer against your skin.

The zipper comes down in one smooth motion, dress slipping down your body with a whisper of silk. Nanami sucks in a breath when he sees what you’re wearing, eyes widening as he steps back to take you in.

“I see,” he says quietly, voice thick as his eyes run hungrily over your body. “You planned to kill me tonight.”

You laugh, warm and flushed. “Only a little.” 

Beyond the lust, you recognise something more tender – the soft, aching adoration that pools in his eyes as he kisses you again. He looks at you like you’re something precious, holds you like you’re delicate, and kisses you like he’s still in awe that you’re his. Then, he takes you by the hand, pressing another kiss to your knuckles as he gently guides you towards the full-length mirror across the room.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, hands moving to hold your waist. “Want you to see how pretty you look when you ride me, sweetheart.”

Swallowing, you do as you’re told, pressing your back against his chest as you slowly turn to face your reflection in the mirror. Nanami lifts you easily, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you down into his lap. He’s panting slightly as he pulls your panties aside to rub the head of his cock against your slick entrance. 

Then, slowly, achingly, you sink down on him, inch by inch, until you’re stretched, throbbing, and entirely full of him. The reflection in the mirror hides nothing: your lashes fluttering, the way your mouth parts in a shaky gasp, the way his grip tightens on your hips as your walls clench around him.

“K-kento–,” you stutter, eyes squeezing shut. It’s a lot. 

“Just like that, baby,” Nanami rasps, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “My pretty wife, you’re taking me so well.” 

You’re trying to start a rhythm, but your legs are already trembling from how deep he is. He’s so big, and the way he’s pressing against your sensitive spots makes your head fuzzy and your thoughts escape you.

“Too much?” he asks, a hand reaching out to pull down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out. “Want me to help?” You nod, and a hand slides up your back, steadying you as his hips roll up to meet yours. Whimpering helplessly, you tighten your arms around him as he thrusts up inside you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Nanami soothes. “Look how good you’re doing, fuck—” Both of you are fixated on the reflection in the mirror, at the way you’re panting and unravelling in his lap as the thick head of his cock slides in and out of you. He whispers endless praises in your ear even as his hips keep rolling up, dragging against your walls and making you lose yourself in pleasure. 

“Iloveyou–,” he groans against your neck. “Fuck, I love you. Look at you, riding me like you were made for it–”

“Love y-you too, Kento,” you whimper, your voice catching on a moan as he thrusts up deeper inside of you. His hands roam your body, sliding up your back, splaying across your hips as he guides your body with a steady, possessive rhythm.

"Close, baby?" he rasps, lips brushing against your cheek as he feels your walls flutter around him.

You nod shakily, movements growing desperate, almost frantic with every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangle in his hair and your eyes squeeze shut as your release overtakes you, leaving you trembling in his arms. It unravels slowly, deep, full-bodied, as pleasure washes over you in waves.

He follows soon after with a low, desperate groan of your name, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you. His hips stutter as he spills inside, breath ragged.

“Can’t believe you’re mine now,” he breathes against your skin, chest heaving, voice rough.

“I’ve always been yours,” you say softly, pulling back just enough to see him.

He’s already looking at you with that gentle expression – eyes warm and honeyed, brimming with tenderness, crinkling at the corners with fondness for you. 

It’s the kind of look that whispers thank you for loving me. Thank you for finding your way back to me. Thank you for staying. And you whisper it right back, slow and reverent as you kiss him – a promise sealed with your lips:

Always.

a/n: hehe. they're so cute. if you've read my ex-boyfriend!nanami one shot, you can consider this to be an epilogue of sorts, or an extension of that fic :) in my head, this happens in the same universe, and i wanted to give them the happy ending they deserve ~ ^_^

[mrsimpurity]

🜼 ⋆ trying to be sneaky and ride nanami whilst he only agreed for cockwarming.

you’re in his lap, straddling him, fully seated on his cock—and he hasn’t moved in ten minutes.

his hand rests loosely around your waist. the other? flipping pages in the open file on his desk, highlighter cap between his teeth, eyes lazily scanning fine print as if he’s not balls-deep inside you.

your thighs tremble. your panties are shoved to the side, the head of his cock kissing your cervix in a way that makes your lower belly ache. he hasn’t even fucked you yet. just sat you down on it and said, calm as ever, “be still for me. just a little while.”

a little while feels like forever.

his cock is hot and thick inside you, stretching you perfectly, pulsing with every beat of his heart—and you swear it twitches every time you breathe too loud.

you whimper, hips shifting just slightly to ease the ache.

his fingers dig into your hip without looking up.

“don’t.”

you freeze.

his voice is low, not mean—but there’s a warning in it. a sharpness.

“sweet girl,” he murmurs, highlighting a sentence, “if you can’t sit still with my cock in you, maybe i’ll make you kneel under the desk instead. would you like that?”

you whimper again, leaning into his chest.

he finally looks at you—over the rim of his glasses, eyes lazy but stern.

“what is it?”

you pout. “just wanna move a little…”

he chuckles, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles on your waist. “you’re already so greedy. i let you warm me, and now you want more?”

his tone is light, but then your hips roll again—just a twitch—and he hisses through his teeth, grip tightening hard around your hips.

“stop.”

your breath catches.

he sets the file down finally, eyes meeting yours, jaw tense.

“i’m trying to concentrate here, sweet girl,” he says lowly, voice laced with heat and restraint. “if i start fucking you now, i’m not getting any work done.”

your cunt clenches around him involuntarily. his eyelids flutter.

“…don’t do that either,” he mutters. you blink up at him. “do what?”

“that thing you just did,” he growls, suddenly sliding his hands under your ass and grinding you down once, hard, making you cry out. “you’re gonna make me lose my patience.”

and then he pauses—looks back at the file.

sighs. like this is just another delay in his long day.

“…five more minutes,” he murmurs, adjusting you in his lap. “and then i’ll give you what you want. until then…”

his lips ghost your ear.

“don’t. fucking. move.”

[mrsimpurity]

not going to bed angry — ( multi-headcanons )

夏油傑 ・suguru geto ／ smut . MDNI 18+

"you're still upset." SUGURU GETO observes mildly, his fingers are interlaced with yours, pinned above your head, wrists aching from how long he's held you like that.

"still not talking?" the question lands as his pelvis rock forward. when you pretend not to hear him, a faint smile curves across his mouth, tinged with something resembling regret.

it was a special grade curse he'd been coveting—powerful enough to tempt the higher-ups into sending a squad after it. letting them get there first would've wasted the opportunity. he needed its properties for himself. for the cause. that was always sugu's justification: what serves the vision must come first.

"you're upset because i canceled dinner. because i told you i'd be late and then made it home hours past that." tracing his thumb lovingly across your cheek, he continues,

"but you knew what i was going to do," the regret in his tone is real, even when it's self-serving. "i didn't lie. you didn't want to hear it, that's all." suguru always sounds so goddamn sincere, even when he's manipulating you. especially then.

"sweet girl, please talk to me." his fingers slide between your legs, coaxing a moan out of you he has no effing right to feel so entitled to. "saw the picture mimiko sent me," he adds. "the new dress you bought... you were going to wear that for me?"

"would've called if i could," he adds, idly tracing the apple of your cheek with his thumb. "and that dress... you were going to wear that for me?" his obsidian gaze finds only defiance, steadied in the glare you level at him. but he doesn't retreat.

"don't look at me like i'm something you can't stand to touch," he pouts, pushing in deeper and pulling out a moan from you.

"i’ll make it up to you."

"you said the same thing last time, suguru."

"mm. i know." his cock nudges deeper, hitting that tender, spongy spot that makes your toes curl. "but i'd never hurt you with intent. you know that."

defiance sways. the prideful part of you still wants to stay angry, but the rest—your body, your traitorous heart—is already unraveling. words catch in your throat, but another thought breaks through.

"you think sex fixes everything."

soft laughter, almost ruefully. "no. sadly not everything. but we fix everything. and sex helps." he smiles, fucking into you with a tenderness that juxtaposes the monstrous deeds he commits outside this room.

"we can talk. i'll listen. i'll let you scream at me if you need to. just don't shut me out, m'kay?" he buries himself to the hilt and stays there. perilously caught in the edge of orgasm and the ache of how much you still love him, you nod in resignation.

"that's it," suguru smiles, indulgently. "there she is."

[mrsimpurity]

gojo residence,

‘embarassed’

a satoru gojo oneshot

“for the last time, baby, it’s okay.”

satoru coos. his voice is firm and gentle in the quiet room that carried nothing but your soft hiccups and sniffles. you’re curled on the floor, watching him make the bed with the newly cleaned sheets. you were so embarrassed from bleeding through your clothes that you were just sobbing.

“it’s not okay!” you exclaimed. “i ruined your sheets.”

“ruined?” he snorts, half bent over the bed as he tucks in the newly cleaned sheets with a lazy precision that only he could pull off. “they’re literally fine. well, better than fine. now they smell like vanilla because i threw in those fancy detergent pods you like.”

you sniffle, peeking at him through your messy hair. “yeah but…you shouldn’t have to do that…it’s so late and…”

satoru pauses and looks over at you, and for once, his grin is gentle instead of smug. “sweetheart, it’s just blood. not the end of the world. sheets are washable. you aren’t allowed to cry on the floor over this.” he reaches out to pick you up from the floor.

you mumble something incoherent, which only makes him reach out and wipe a tear from your cheek with his thumb, tilting your face up. “hey. look at me. you’re okay, and i’m okay. nothing about this is gross, and it sure as hell isn’t your fault.” he shrugs.

your chest stutters, and a soft, embarrassed whimper slips out.

satoru smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “besides, I get to play househusband and change the sheets. very domestic of me. kind of a turn-on, don’t you think?”

you swat at his shoulder and he giggles, kissing your pouty lips. he gathers you in his arms like you weigh nothing and plops you right back on the bed. “let me go get that heating pad.” he mumbles. “…think it’s downstairs.”

by the time he returns, he’s juggling a heating pad, a bottle of water, and a pack of your favorite snacks tucked under his arm. “the hero returns!” he announces, climbing back onto the bed. he presses the warm heating pad to your stomach with careful hands and then curls himself around you like a human blanket.

“better?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. you hum softly, nuzzling into his chest. “better.”

a/n: someone sedate me

more jjk here

[mrsimpurity]

FOR HER.

— hidden inventory!suguru geto x fem!sorcerer!reader, smut, kinda soft dom geto??, friends to lovers, fingers, kissinnngggf a lot of kissing, tooth rotting fluff tbh hahah, geto doesn’t defect because of u 💜 not proofread

he’s made many sacrifices. all of them were for her, though.

an: i’ve been gone for a long time againnn but that’s because i started seeing writing as a chore instead of a fun thing to do in my free time so i’m back with a new mindset 😼😼

up to this day, he wasn’t sure if it was love or lust. tonight, he found his answer.

looking at you made him smile uncontrollably. the pure sight of you, your figure shivering slightly from the chill air in his room, your ass on his lap and the rest of you on his bed was enough of a reason for him to stay.

deep inside, he hated this world. hated the cruel reality bestowed on him, being forced to “protect” the beings who are responsible for their own murderous struggles. he hated the fact he was basically forced to obey each and every command of his elders, who were also slaved to this loathsome system.

but you. you were enough for him to endure the pain he feels. he tried to push you away. he’s done everything he could to keep you as far away from him - as he knew that you were the one who could stop him from committing morally questionable acts for the purpose of a better future.

“sugu…,” you whined, desperate for him to do anything, to touch you - hurt, or heal, that was unknown. you’d take anything he was willing to give, but the both of you knew he would never leave a mark on your skin that would never heal. he chuckled hearing your sweet, tiny voice and caressed the plush skin on your thighs.

his hands roamed all over your much smaller silhouette. the two of you got into a tiny argument over his mental state - you weren’t blind. he was obviously spiralling down and refusing any of gojo’s or yours attempts to help. but you were determined enough to set yourself a goal that would never change; you’d hold him close and show him he’s not broken.

eventually, after a long battle, you managed to tear off those feeble walls suguru put up. you showed him that there is a bit more to this life, you showed him that he’s always stayed in the light and those thoughts he keeps on having - they’re a product of sadness, stress and anxiety. you managed to save him, and presumably the rest of non-sorcerers.

“hmm? what do you want, pretty? come on, say it. you know i can’t deny you anything,” geto said, knowing full well that he’d reach deep, deep inside his chest and tore his heart out if you wanted it. if it meant that you’d hold it close.

his lips wandered all over your body. soft, butterfly-like kisses were everywhere and you could feel the love pouring out of this seemingly small gesture. your neck, your shoulder blades, the small of your back - there was no place safe from his assault of kisses. not that you wanted him to stop, even for a second.

“i want you, sugu,” you replied, turning your head a bit to the right so you could see his face. he smiled softly, and that sight alone made you even wetter. suguru was absolutely ethereal - everybody knew and noticed that. there was no single thing in him that would seem inelegant. his whole being was purely magnificent, and you guess it was obvious that you were simply admiring him; perhaps your loving gaze made him aware of that fact, but he seemed to like this attention, as he chuckled softly.

“sweet girl, i’m all yours already,” he said, placing you on your back on the bed, his own soon following - he climbed on the bed next to you and kissed you passionately, his hand venturing down to your clit, tracing small circles all over your small bundle of nerves. you reacted to his touch almost instantly, and that made him smitten - perhaps, there is a small part of you were as receptive to him as he was to you.

hearing your soft whimpers, suguru put a bit more pressure on the pearly organ while also sucking gently, but firmly on your neck. his actions would surely leave a mark, one you were ready to welcome nonetheless. your actions and words left a mark on suguru mentally, so it was only right for him to give you the same, lovely treatment, but in a bit more fleeting way; his actions may be more temporary, but the marks he’s leaving are going to leave a much bigger impression.

he was receptive to each and every of your touches, moans and whimpers. he was pleasuring you with all his might, putting both his soul and mind into giving you ungodly amounts of pleasure. he was sure that nothing would equal to the amounts of comfort you offered him to take him outta the rabbit hole, though; that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try his best.

his two fingered entered you quickly, making you release even more sultry sounds, which suguru was drinking eagerly - he just couldn’t stay away from you sweet, plump lips; especially when the only sounds coming out of them was pure pleasure and praise towards him.

and although he wanted to make you cum on his cock, your orgasms synchronised; he decided it would be better to let you have a taste of his gratuity sooner. he wanted you to know that he’s eternally thankful and eager to fulfil your filthy desires. he pushed a third finger in, increasing the speed of his second hand, the one on your clit, so you could feel your release as fast as it was humanly possible.

and it didn’t take you long - geto’s fingers were just magical; his touch hard, but filled with need and deep inside, you had a guess it was fuelled with his own desire and love, too. it worked well, nonetheless, bringing you to an orgasm surprisingly quickly. he pulled away from your lips, observing how your face scrunches up in pleasure, feeling the way your walls pulsated and tightened around him.

“i wanna feel you, sugu, please,” you moaned, still lost in the lustful haze he got you in. you just finished riding off your high on your fingers, and yet you were greedy for more? this amused geto, but it made his heart clench and his dick move nonetheless. he was but a slave to your pleasure now, and whatever it is you desire - it’s his duty to deliver it to you beautifully.

he still hesitated, though. your presence was enough for him to stay in the light, but if anything were to happen to you… he wasn’t sure he’s not gonna go back to his old ways - the ones involving slaughtering all those disgusting monkeys. you noticed that hesitation and quickly guessed what was it about - his dark thoughts still stayed somewhere in him and it would take some time for you to help him purify his soul, but for now; you’d take care of everything the easier way. “i don’t give a fuck if you’re evil, suguru. i need you,” you said, looking him in the eyes.

all he saw was kindness and love radiating off of you and your gaze. you melted through his hardened facade and made your way into his heart and mind. so what else could he do, but comply and make sure your wishes came true? he flashed you a smile, pulled you into a kiss; plunging his member slowly inside your wet pussy. he had all night to show you how grateful he is for you, and he was ready to assure you every night that you’re the only one he’s ever gonna call for while having doubts.

after all, he’s sacrificed his idea of an “ideal world” without monkeys for you. he’s made many sacrifices for you already, so what’s one more? this time, however, he’s sacrificing both his body and mind for you. and whatever you’ll do with that, he shall accept, he thinks - starting to move his hips slowly while holding your hand and using the other one to trace various shapes all over your tummy.

[mrsimpurity]

the concept of suguru mocking your whimpers and whines as he absolutely destroys you on your couch.

you two know that your roommate could come back anytime soon, how easily you could get caught — and yet somehow, suguru manages to hypnotize you with each slow and delicious snap of his hips.

“ah,” you gasp, its a high pitched sound and your hands reach for his shoulders for support. your nails dig into his skin, eyes focused on when your bodies connect. “f-fuck.”

“ah,” suguru mimics your noise, pulling his cock all the way back before slamming into your pussy again. his teeth sink into his bottom lip to suppress the wicked grin that’s spreading across his face, he’s too proud of the fact that you look like a mess.

your eyes shoot upwards, and suguru hates how his heart lurches in his chest.

pretty eyes are glossy all over, your lips bruised and plump from being kissed so passionately by him, then your mouth quivers and a hand rests on his chest.

“you’re mocking me,” you say it with so much sadness, but your pussy flutters around his cock and suguru groans as he buries his face in your neck.

“sweet girl,”

“o-oh!” he spreads your legs, pushing your thigh open with one hand as he grips the skin. this gives him a better angle, allows him to go deeper than before and it’s evident in the way your body tenses up at the feeling.

“oh yeah?” he questions, voice bordering on breaking too because fuck does it feel good to be destroying you.

“y-yes!”

“yeah?” he asks again, his cock dragging deeper and harder against your walls, his hand wrapping around your neck. “let me fucking hear you. come on. come on baby—“

a high pitched “suguru!” echoes through the living room of your apartment, the couch moves away from its original spot with how hard he’s fucking you.

even after you cum, even after he sees your soul escaping your body, not once does he slow down nor does he show mercy. he continues to fuck into you, mean strokes near sending you to the after-life with how desperately you’re gripping his shoulders.

begging, pleading with him to take it easy on you.

“p-please, no more—“

“nah, you’ll take it.” and he means it, his hand pushes you down on the couch and he pins you there.

because suguru doesn’t just fuck to fuck, he likes to play with you and leave you a babbling mess even after you cum.

[mrsimpurity]

Satoru’s totally the type to stretch his hand way above his head with a cheeky grin and go, “C’mon, gimme a high five.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, watching you jump, huff, pout, and try again, those pretty fingers just brushing the span of his palm.

And the second you finally manage to reach it, victory in your eyes, hand smacking his, he catches it. Big, slender fingers wrapping around yours, holding you there. “Too slow,” he coos, smug as ever, snow-white lashes fluttering as his other hand slides around your waist and yanks you right into his chest.

You barely have time to complain before he’s leaning down, those soft, pink lips peppering playful kisses against yours. One. Two. Three. “Mmm... worth the effort, huh?” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, his voice all sweet sugar and mischief. His sunglasses are perched crooked on his nose now, revealing those annoyingly gorgeous, sparkling blue eyes, and god, the way they look at you is unfair. Completely unfair. Turning your cheeks a bright color so he can tease you for that too!

[mrsimpurity]

nanami is a man of many talents. he’s dependable, intelligent, emotionally stable, and the proud owner of the strongest jawline in the greater tokyo area.

what he’s not, unfortunately, is good at roleplay.

and neither are you.

which is precisely why you’re standing in your shared apartment at 8:46 p.m. on a thursday night, wearing the world’s cheapest nurse costume from the internet, while nanami sits on the couch in his usual button-down shirt and slacks, blinking up at you like you’re holding him at gunpoint.

“so,” you say, trying not to laugh, “you’re dying. you’ve got… uh… um…”

you look down at the little fake clipboard you scribbled something on earlier.

“severe lack of pussy,” you read off dramatically.

nanami exhales very slowly. “i see.”

you clear your throat and strut toward him with all the confidence of a cat in socks. “but don’t worry. i’m the best in the medical field when it comes to this rare and devastating condition.”

“ah.” nanami shifts slightly, crossing his legs in a very formal way. “and what are your qualifications?”

“well, first of all, i’m hot.”

he nods like that makes perfect sense. “understandable.”

“second of all, my phd stands for pretty huge—”

“darling.”

“—diagnoses.” you grin.

nanami puts his hand over his mouth, turning his head like he’s suppressing a sneeze, but you know better. his shoulders shake a little.

“you’re supposed to be dying,” you scold, slapping his knee lightly.

“i am,” he says, clearing his throat. “tragically. go on.”

you toss the clipboard onto the coffee table and climb onto his lap, straddling him like a very unprofessional nurse. “only one cure, i’m afraid.”

“hm.” his hands find your waist instinctively, thumbs brushing against your sides. “do tell.”

you lean in close, brushing your lips over his jaw, whispering, “intensive pussy therapy.”

nanami sighs deeply. “i’m cured already.”

“no! you have to let the treatment run its full course!”

“how long is the course?”

you pretend to consult your notes. “twelve to fourteen business days.”

“i see. that’s rather long.”

“no, it’s sexy and necessary.”

“my mistake.”

for a second, the scene holds. it’s you on his lap, lips pressed together to keep the laughter in, while nanami tries to wear the serious expression of a man on the brink of death-by-lack-of-intimacy. you even try to grind your hips forward a little, trying to get something going, but then nanami says, in the driest voice imaginable—

“will my insurance cover this?”

you break, you absolutely lose it. your head falls into his shoulder as you laugh so hard you snort, and nanami— your oh so controlled and collected nanami—laughs too. the kind that pulls a little wheeze out of him, the kind you feel in his chest where your hands are pressed.

“this is so stupid,” you giggle, wiping your eyes. “why did we think we could do this?”

“i blame you.”

“i know.” you grin up at him. “but also, you looked up ‘sexy professor glasses’ on your work computer.”

“that’s not true.”

“you left the tab open, baby.”

“i am revoking your internet access.”

“you can’t,” you say, poking his cheek. “i’m the one who cures your condition, remember?”

“ah. right. how could i forget such critical medical care?”

you snort again and kiss him on the cheek, then the nose, then the mouth—soft and silly, both of you smiling too much to keep it serious.

you slide off his lap and curl up beside him instead, tucking your legs under a blanket. he throws an arm around you, warm and comforting.

“do you wanna try again?” you ask. “we could do like, spy and informant. or maybe evil sorcerer and innocent shrine maiden.”

“hm. those sound… advanced.”

“i believe in us.”

nanami hums, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “maybe next time. when i’m not still recovering from…”

you grin. “pussy deficiency?”

“yes. that.”

you laugh again, high and warm, and nanami smiles like you’re the best part of his day. you might suck at roleplay, but you’re both very good at this—being together, being dumb, being happy.

and honestly? that’s more than enough.

[mrsimpurity]

your boyfriend gojo showing you off to his best friend, suguru, for fun. You’re sat there in between your boyfriend legs completely naked while both of of them are fully clothed. Suguru sits in front of you, hungry eyes raking over every inch of your body. He can see your pussy glistening from where he’s sitting, imagining how you taste and feel, how you sound.

“Isn’t she so pretty, Suguru?” Gojo hums, gripping your face and smushing your cheeks. He smiles from ear to ear, his long fingers traveling over your torso and down towards your cunt, resting just above it.

“She is, very, very pretty.” He smirks, the bulge in his pants growing noticeably bigger.

“What do you say, baby?” Gojo whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

“T-thank you,” you meekly say, feeling completely embarrassed and exposed in this state, more embarrassed at the fact you’re enjoying it, your pussy throbbing.

“And what about these tits, huh?” He bites down on his bottom lip, his large hands cupping your breasts, groping and squeezing at the flesh, pulling at your perky nipples.

“Mmph!” You squeeze your eyes shut, thighs clenching together when he tweaks your sensitive nipples between his fingers.

“You like that, baby? Oh, I know you do,” he coos in your ear, teasing you. “Think you can be nice let Suguru try?” You give a small nod, blinking your eyes open when the raven haired man leans forward and reaches his hands out to grope your tits.

His eyes are fixated on them, like he’s stuck in trance. The image of your tits spilling between his fingers with each squeeze, cute nipples begging to be sucked on. You were such a cute little thing. Gojo was one lucky man. His thumbs flick over your nipples, eyes darting up to look at the expression on your face. You were trying so hard to hold in your whimpers, but the way your hips were squirming gave you away.

Gojo sits there, watching over your shoulder with such a devious smile on his face. His hands caress up and down your skin, sending chills up your spine and tingles to your pussy.

“You’ve got pretty tits, sweetheart.” He stares at you with half lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Nngh, thank you,” you whimper, avoiding his gaze.

He leans back in his chair, adjusting in his seat, pulling at the fabric of his jeans. It was clear he was uncomfortable and with the raging hard on he had, but without Gojo’s permission, he couldn’t jerk off to you. Not yet.

“How’d that feel, baby?” Gojo peppered kisses down your neck, knowing it was making it hard for you to respond.

“G-good, it felt good,” you let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly.

“There’s just one more thing I’m gonna show off, yeah?” His hands ran over your thighs, hooking under your knees and pulling your legs back to let suguru get a good view of your cunt. “How’s it look, Suguru?” He looks towards his best friend who’s already intoxicated by the sight of it, nearly drooling.

“Fucking heavenly. She’s dripping,” he says breathlessly, leaning forward on his own accord.

“I bet she is. My baby likes it when I show her off, but knows she’s still all mine.” He kisses the top of your head as you lean back into him.

“Fuck, I wanna taste her. Just one lick, please?” He looks up at Gojo, completely desperate. Even your scent is making his cock leak.

“It’s up to her.” He smiles, glancing down at you. “Gonna let Suguru taste that sweet cunt?”

Your cunt throbs at the thought, body hot and bothered, heart pounding in your chest. “Yes…yes.” You nod, hands fisting the bedsheets below as you brace for the slightest sensation of his tongue. You watch him dip between your thighs, sticking his tongue out as he takes a licks up your leaking juices all the way to your throbbing clit. Your hips jolt at the feeling, a small whine escaping your throat.

Suguru pulls away, savoring your taste on his tongue. “Fuck me,” he whisper under his breath. “God, you taste even better than I imagined, sweetheart.” As much as he wants to dive back in and eat you out till you cry, he respects Gojo’s wishes and leans back in his seat.

“She’s a doll, isn’t she?” Gojo reaches a hand between your thighs, slapping your needy pussy a few times. He chuckles at your moans, going slightly harder with each slap. The sound of your wet cunt was like music to his ears. “You did such a good job, baby.”

“Satoru, you’re one lucky man,” Suguru scoffs, biting the inside of his cheek.

[mrsimpurity]

older bf!nanami spoils you quietly. thoughtfully. he never makes a show of it—the fresh bouquet on your nightstand every sunday, the lunchboxes packed when he knows you’ll be busy, the way he lets you drag him into shops just to buy you trinkets that “make no financial sense,” yet his wallet’s already out.

he’s older, calm, and terrifyingly composed, but he never makes you feel small—until you’re under him like this.

“k-kento… t-too big—!” your breath hitches, nails clawing into his forearms, but he doesn’t stop. his hips are relentless, driving his cock deeper, harder—brutal, merciless, a sharp contrast to the man who buttoned your coat for you this morning. “i know, darling,” he coos, lips brushing your temple, but there’s a dark gleam in his eyes as he watches you fall apart. “but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you? such a good girl.”

you’re folded in half—legs pinned to your chest, body trembling as he pounds into you, thick and deep, splitting you open with every brutal thrust. his cock kisses your cervix, the heavy drag making your toes curl. “k-kento—ahh—too much… f-feels so good, i—” your words melt into high-pitched whines, drool spilling from the corner of your lips as you squirm beneath him.

“look at you,” he murmurs, pace never faltering, “so pretty when you can’t even form a sentence. what happened to my sharp girl, hmm?” his words are sweet, but the way his hips snap against you—rough, punishing—has your mind blanking. “kento! ahh—mmph—fuck—!” you sob, overwhelmed, nails raking down his back as his cock drags along every sensitive spot inside you, every thrust making your brain fuzzier.

he leans down, mouth messy against your lips, licking into you as his cock bullies its way back into your squelching cunt. “that’s it. take it. you can take a little more, can’t you?”

“y-yes! yes, please—” you cry, teary-eyed, completely cockdrunk as he rocks you into the mattress. “my good girl,” he praises, voice so tender it’s almost cruel, even as his hips roll with devastating force. “let me fuck you dumb, sweetheart. you don’t have to think—just feel me.”

and god, you do. every inch of him. every filthy, perfect inch.

© seidoll | don't copy, repost, or translate any of my work

[mrsimpurity]

Training Wheels

Summary: Your neighbor teaches your daughter how to ride a bike, and makes you believe in love again. Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content Warnings: single parenthood, implied divorce / family separation

You move in on a Wednesday.

The sky is heavy, clouded over in a dull sort of way that makes everything feel like it’s starting half-heartedly. Your daughter clings to your sleeve, quiet and unsure, clutching a crumpled drawing in her fist – a family picture with someone carefully scratched out.

The house is smaller than your last one. The walls are blank, the furniture is secondhand, and the boxes feel heavier than they did when you packed them. You tell yourself it’s just the weight of the drive.

Or maybe it’s everything else.

Across the street, a man lounges on his porch with a lollipop in his mouth and sunglasses that do absolutely nothing to hide the grin he throws your way.

You ignore it. You’re not here to meet people.

You’re here to start over.

Your daughter is quiet for the first few days. Weeks, really, but the time blurs into a numb nothingness. You fill the silence with unpacking and emails and meetings, pretending the world hasn’t tilted sideways, and she sits on the porch with her little pink helmet on, legs too short to balance properly on the secondhand bike you got from a yard sale. She never complains. She just tries.

And falls.

Again. And again.

You wince each time, torn between deadlines and scraped knees. You want to do more. But there’s nothing much you have left to give, even for her.

In the evening, while you’re twisting the last braid into her damp hair, she looks up at you, eyes solemn.

“Mom,” she asks quietly, “how come you never have enough time anymore?”

Your fingers still, just for a second.

“I do,” you say, too quickly. Then softer, like an apology, “I’m just.. trying to figure things out, baby.”

She nods, trusting you in the way only children do. But when she turns back to her coloring book, you hesitate, hands paused in midair. Wondering how much of your absence she’s already learned to live with.

And then one day, while you’re on a conference call and your daughter sits quietly on the curb, you hear a laugh. When you look out the window, the man from across the street is crouched next to her, adjusting her helmet strap with the sort of practiced gentleness that you've learned to be wary toward. Not because it's malicious, but because it could grow into something that hurts.

You nearly slam the door open.

He stands when you approach, perching his sunglasses in his snowy hair. “Hey, neighbor. Hope you don’t mind. She looked like she could use a hand.”

Your daughter looks up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. There’s a spark there you haven’t seen in a long time, and you want to say no, that you can handle it, that you don’t need help from unknown men with knowing smiles and too-casual winks.

But you don’t.

Instead, you nod.

“Just for a while,” you murmur. “And stay where I can see you.”

He raises both hands in surrender. “Of course, mama.”

You learn his name after that. Gojo Satoru. A teacher, apparently, who specializes in highschoolers with “a little too much energy and not enough common sense.”

You don’t ask for more.

But you watch as your daughter lights up around him. Laughs freely. Rides a little farther down the street each time.

He makes it look easy.

One afternoon, while you’re both crouched beside a chalk-drawn hopscotch grid, he hands you soda from his cooler and raises an eyebrow. “You always look so tired,” he teases. “I’m starting to take it personally.”

You roll your eyes, but you take the can. “That’s because I am tired.”

He hums, turning back to watch your daughter wave to him excitedly. “You’re doing a good job.”

His voice is quiet, words clearly meant for you, even while he smiles at your daughter. And you don’t know what to say to that.

So you don’t say anything at all.

It becomes a rhythm. Your daughter knocks on his door before you’re even awake some days. He barbecues on weekends and hands you a plate without asking and you pretend you’re not starting to notice the way his shirts cling to the edges of his arms. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Then, one day, your daughter finally rides her bike on her own. And you scream.

Both of you do. You run toward them, arms wide, breathless with disbelief, and hug your daughter tight. You feel Gojo’s hand on your back as he crouches beside you, grinning like a fool.

You look at him, and you smile, really smile, for the first time in what feels like years.

Later that night, when the house is quiet and your daughter is tucked into bed, you call him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I mean it.”

He takes a moment to process before responding, and you can hear his soft smile through the phone.

“You’re welcome,” he says. Then, quieter, like he’s afraid to break whatever’s holding this moment together, he adds, “You’re a good mom.”

The words hit something in you you didn’t realize was still raw. “..you don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it because I have to. I see the way you look at her, like she’s your whole world.”

“She is.”

“She knows that,” he says gently. “More than you think.”

You swallow, blinking hard. “I don’t have enough time. It feels like I’m just barely holding things together, and she’s still so small, and I don’t know if she notices how much I’ve faltered since.. since starting over.”

He listens then responds, voice steady. “You’re doing well.”

Your breath hitches, and he adds, “You won’t ever have enough time to love. That’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s why we do it anyway.”

The silence between you stretches, full and warm and quiet in a way that feels soothing for once.

You stay on the phone with him without saying a word. Listening to his breathing on the other end until you fall asleep.

–––

Your daughter goes to her dad’s for the week, and you try to pretend it’s not ripping you apart inside to see him waiting at the door to take her away. It’s the first time the house has felt empty, and not just quiet.

You try to read. Try to work. But the silence wraps tightly and settles beneath your ribs.

So when the doorbell rings, you answer it quicker than you’d like to admit.

Gojo stands outside with a grin and two plastic grocery bags. “Thought I’d bring dinner. If that’s okay.”

You hesitate, then step aside. “I’ve got wine.”

“Perfect,” he smiles.

The pasta’s a little overcooked. The wine isn’t anything special, but it’s warm. The music is something old and soft, playing low from the TV.

You laugh more than you have in months.

And when you’re both in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side, he reaches past you for the towel and doesn’t move away.

You’re close. Too close. You turn to say something, and he catches your wrist gently, eyes searching.

“Can I?” he murmurs.

You nod.

He kisses you like he’s known you longer than he actually has. Like you’re his childhood friend or his high school sweetheart or anything other than the neighbor that moved in across the street just a few months ago. Like he’s waited for this, whatever this is, and doesn’t want to rush it.

Your back hits the counter. His hands cradle your waist. And the way he says your name, quiet and lovingly, makes something inside you crack open.

Later, in your bed, his smile is softer. Less show, more truth.

You're cautious when it comes to falling in love, and it's a reactionary habit. But this time, it feels like you’re being caught, swept away by something that might stay.

The next morning, he kisses your shoulder before slipping out of bed. You wake to the smell of batter and find him in your kitchen, whistling while flipping pancakes.

He turns with a flourish, revealing a terribly shaped blob vaguely resembling a bike.

“It’s symbolic,” he grins, puffing out his chest.

You burst out into laughter.

He stays the whole day. He brings lunch to you while you’re on call and tidies up the toys your daughter’s strewn about, the ones you didn’t have the time to pick up.

“You make it look easy,” you murmur, leaning into him on the couch. Meaning him, the way he is with her. The way he is with you.

He smiles sheepishly. “God, I hope so. I screw things up more than I get them right.”

You glance at him, surprised.

He weaves a hand into your hair and presses his face to the crook of your neck so you can’t see his expression. “I’m scared, sometimes, that I won’t be enough for the people I care about. That I’ll miss something important and not even realize until it’s too late.”

There’s a quiet vulnerability in his voice, one you recognize well.

You reach for his hand without thinking. He squeezes back.

The next week, when your daughter comes home and sees him on the porch, she runs to him without hesitation, arms thrown around his waist.

“Missed me already?” he teases, ruffling her hair.

She nods.

You watch from the doorway, heart full, something warm blooming in your chest. It doesn’t ache like it used to, but it’s not unfamiliar. You want to believe it.

He glances back at you as he picks your daughter up and comes inside, eyes soft.

You smile.

And this time, when the door closes behind the two of them, you finally feel like you’re at home. Like you belong here, and she belongs here, and maybe – just maybe – love does, too.

[mrsimpurity]

satoru, who was explicitly told not to touch you until the officiant said he could kiss the bride.

but he’s already tearing up the second he sees you, heart in his throat, hands flexing at his sides like he’s holding himself still by force.

by the time you reach him, he can’t help it. his hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. then he gathers you close, like he’s been waiting forever to.

and only after his breathing evens out and your hands have stopped shaking does he let go, eyes on you, voice whispering.

“ready when you are.”

[mrsimpurity]

nerd!gojo who defied the stereotype of what a nerd is supposed to be. glasses? okay, check. constantly correcting his professors mid-discussion? all the time. a shy personality? absolutely not. a timid personality and perhaps stuttering once in a while? fuck no. he was an absolute menace who had taken an interest in making your life miserable.

nerd!gojo who always had something to counter what you say in every class. every. fucking. time. without a miss. aside from being academically gifted, he was pretty damn gifted at getting on your nerves too.

nerd!gojo who didn't even have to try to be the perfect guy everyone makes him out to be. damn him and his stupid glasses.

nerd!gojo who would always point out the tiniest mistake on your test, just so he could boast his own score. a bright red 100% that made you feel mocked in ways you didn't even know was possible.

nerd!gojo who debated you in every topic, always making sure he got the last word. you could see his pretty (huh?) blue eyes through his glasses glaring at you, hardening with every rebuttal. you'd offer him an arrogant smirk in return.

nerd!gojo who you swore was nothing but a threat to your perfectly clean academic record. your record which used to only display the number one, now contains the number two as well. you clenched your fist.

nerd!gojo whom you hated the moment he stepped in your class. it was as if there was a sign on his forehead that said "do not interact". and for a while, you didn't. with the exception of bickering in between classes that the teachers were tired of you. they don't even bother to stop your bickering anymore.

you exhausted every possible way to stay out of gojo's orbit. for three years, it worked. every single arrogant smile he flashed your way was met with a look that could kill. every flirty comment he threw at your way outside of class received a sarcastic comment. you couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could have an effect on you just like he did with everyone else.

so, as you stood in the farthest row of your university's library, caged in said man's arms, you began to rethink your life choices.

because why the hell was gojo satoru, the most infuriating guy you've ever met, your rival, and the most self-centered arrogant man, kissing you in the middle your supposed study session?

he kissed you as if this was the only thing in his mind as he debated you in class. he touched you as if he reviewed this just like any other exam. he whispered the prettiest things in your ear as if he was reciting poetry.

"do you know how long i've thought about what else your mouth is capable of other than absolutely turning me on by outsmarting me in class?"

oh well, at the end of the day, we were bound to make missteps. yours just happened to come in the form of gojo satoru. gojo whose lips were capable of doing more than just vexing you in class. gojo whose hands were not only skilled in answering math equations, but also skilled when it comes to touching the right spots just right.

damn him. you truly do hate him.

credits to @/cursed-carmine for the divider! how do we feel about this? likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[mrsimpurity]

sweet respectful nanami kento who’s too good at eating your pussy so, so disrespectfully, it has you squirming and shaking as he holds your thighs open with his arms.

he starts slow, a few licks on the sensitive bud and short licks up and down your drenching cunt.

“so sweet for me, yeah? you’re doin’ so well, sweetheart”

after a few minutes, the man goes absolutely feral. he laps his tongue hungrily at your clit, two of his long veiny fingers hitting the right spot while his other hand roughly gropes your tits. he doesn’t stop, not at all. he keeps making you cum, again and again, until you’re a sobbing mess, pushing his head away.

“k-ken, plea- ah fuck. oh, ah-”

when you cum for the nth time that night, he kisses sweet sorry’s up your belly and then to your neck and finally your lips. he smiles, big and sweet.

smug bastard.