#even though he barely notices himself

[retiredteabag]

winter weight

synopsis: toji has gained some weight this winter - it seems you don’t mind

this is part two -> read about summer!toji here

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It's said that "happy weight" is a very real thing in healthy relationships. Toji had always prided himself on being a big man, he worked out frequently and ate like a beast. But his physique has mostly remained the same impressive form. This winter, however, seemed to have changed that for the very first time.

Toji had noticed these past few days that he'd seemed to have put on a couple of pounds. His shirts were tighter now than they used to be, some of his sleeves seemed to almost cut off circulation, and with a quick feel of his stomach, it was clear that his body was... softening up.

He was not "insecure" per say, just- not in love with his newly added weight. He found himself pulling at the flesh of his stomach, not accustomed to the added fat and he barely walked around the house shirtless as of late.

You'd comment on this newfound modesty of his and he'd play it off as if he had been cold, but you know that your man couldn’t get cold, even in this winter weather.

One afternoon as you both lounged on the couch, you saw him pulling at the front of his T-shirt, flowing it out and away from his body. He didn't seem to be doing it intentionally, eyes focused on the television, but you certainly noticed.

That night he even went to bed with a shirt on which might just have been the very first time he's ever done that in his life.

You went to bed with this notion on your mind. The thing was... the man was totally irresistible to you, so you couldn't quite understand if he was suddenly worrying about his figure.

Toji always awoke before you did in the mornings. When you heard him in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, you stumbled out of bed and came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his form.

Toji is a big guy, he always has been. Only now you notice, when holding the man’s torso, your two arms barely reach around to the mans abs now…

You hum as you feel him up, and he doesn't push you away. Once upon a time you would have tried to tickle his sides, but having been around Toji for awhile now, you know he's not the ticklish type. Even so, your cold hands dance under his shirt and grope at him.

"Too early, ya know." You murmur into his broad back. "Won'tcha come back to bed."

"Get yer paws off me" he jitters, "you're freezing." He turns around to look at you now, facing downwards to meet your tired pout.

"Come warm up with me then." You finish speaking. Smooshing your cheeks into his back muscles and opening your mouth to press up against him and breathe a lung full of hot air through his shirt. While the warmth meets his spine you roll your hands back to his pudgy tummy, his happy trail…

"Alright, alright." He grabs the back of your neck and walks you back to bed. When you're just about within throwing distance, he grabs you by the sides of your chest and tosses you onto the mattress.

In the following moments you curl yourself upon him, your body splayed above his. Giggling, you can't help your wandering hands. He's so warm, you know?

He grabs at your wrist though, "Enough, don't fondle me." His eyes are teasing but you wonder if he's starting to feel unhappy with his body.

"Can't help it, you’re so handsome, ya' know?"

You can feel his muscles tense below you at the confession. He runs a hand through his hair and avoids your eyes. "Thats a bad argument."

You just hum and squish your arms under his back, molding your body to his.

Suddenly he speaks up, "I wouldn't work out as much if I knew you still liked me all fluffy". You hear an annoyed tint in his tone and move up to look at him.

"I like you in all your forms, Toji." And you mean it.

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes at your words and pulls your hands away.

"Don't move me, you're so hot." You tug your wrists in his grasp.

His eyebrows raise

He holds your gaze for a long while, and lifting a brow he slowly speaks, "Get another blanket then."

You stare at him, smiling. "No." You smoosh your face to his chest, "I wanna crawl under your skin... and eat your flesh..."

Toji knew what was coming, he gently pressed on your forehead before you could latch your jaw around his bicep.

"Don't. Even. Think about it." He holds in a giant grin.

"You're too chewable. C'mon..... comeoneeeee." You smirk at him, his palm still flush to your skull.

There's a pause, and just as you think he's gonna give in, he maintains pressure, running his hands down your neck, onto your waist and traps your body under his by rolling on top of you. There are wails of descent from your crushed form beneath him, but he holds you there, wrists in his grasp.

"Lemme go Toji." You tug at your wrists.

"Thought you wanted me heating you up." He huffs into your neck.

"Yeah, but I deserve the privilege of caressing a little more." You flex your hands again.

"You gonna behave?" his fingers run over your palms.

"Not a chance."

He grins, releasing you. Quick as lightning, your hands are up and under his shirt, running over his back. He's groaning into the mattress, something about icy hands, but he's sporting a big grin, leaning down to take a tiny bite of your shoulder.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Gravity Falls was strange, and the townsfolk even stranger, it seemed.

The twins had been unceremoniously dropped off on the side of the dusty road, the roar of the bus engine fading away as the driver wordlessly drove off without fanfare. The poor man had almost seemed close to tears ever since they had entered the thresholds of this seemingly innocuous town, all too eager to speed off and away while leaving the two children coughing and wheezing in its dust.

It had not even been a full minute since their lackluster drop-off before they became well acquainted with the oddly sociable and irritatingly chatty inhabitants of Gravity Falls. A single conversation with a pair of boisterous policemen already told them all they needed to know about the history of the town, as well as the whereabouts of their Great Uncle Ford.

"The Mystery Shack," the townsfolk had called it. It seemed as though their distant uncle had earned himself somewhat of a reputation amongst the locals. He was the town cryptid; the ever elusive mad scientist that lived in the outskirts of town in this so called "Mystery Shack". No one really knew who he really was; but everyone knew exactly who he was.

So, when the twins found themselves stood hand in hand in front of the rickety old shack, they hadn't really known what to expect when door had swung open with a deafening slam.

He was a strange man, their Great Uncle Ford. He seemed nothing like the cackling looney lab-coated madman they had imagined from what meager hushed information the townsfolk had offered them. It seemed as though the tales of a scientist gone mad that experimented on stray children that wandered into his spooky "Mystery Shack" was but a cruel rumor.

He mostly just seemed unhealthy, to be honest. His sickly, pale frame utterly drowned in the thick red woolen sweater that practically seemed to hang off of his lanky body like a second flap of skin. It made him look almost child-like, like a kid trying on their parents clothes; which somewhat diluted the intimidating effects of his looming height.

Although, the townsfolk's apparent fear of their Great Uncle Ford seemed to have some merit.

For one, Grunkle Ford really didn't seem all too human. He wasn't inhumane, per se; just, not entirely himself, if that made any sense. Looking at him was like looking at an incomplete puzzle; or looking at someone who you remember all your life wearing a hat, suddenly coming to work one day without one, and it takes a little too long for you to remember what is missing.

It was like Grunkle Ford had lost pieces of himself. Somewhere, to someone. His eyes seemed... almost empty. They were a little too dull and a little too opaque, lacking the lively shine of life everyone else seemed to have.

Another thing was that Grunkle Ford wasn't entirely alone. There was... someone else. The twins couldn't exactly pinpoint where, but they could feel its stare, whatever or whoever it was. They could almost feel its stare, a non-existent eye trailing a weird prickling sensation across their skin. The twins recalled the words of one of the townsfolk, a tall bestacled man with haunted blind eyes; although unseeing they could have sworn his gaze never seemed to leave them, as all he said was:

"Don't catch IT staring at you"

The twins had an odd feeling that IT was looking at them right now.

They didn't even notice when the pale bony hand of Grunkle Ford suddenly reached into their personal space, barely registering his words at all, much less the extra fingers that adorned each of his rough, worn palms.

They didn't take the hand.

If the twins had thought the outside of the shack looked decrepit, the inside seemed somehow even worse.

Every inch of exposed wall, ceiling or floor were utterly covered by sprawling symbols, summoning circles, and indecipherable words that seemed to be in an entirely different language than any the twins knew. They overlapped and tangled into one another into big, messy, red splotches of clustered nothings.

There were notes, diagrams on ripped pieces of aged looking paper scattered everywhere, with hardly any room for post-it notes squeezed wherever there was room. Lit and unlit candles were placed absolutely everywhere; either hidden in the dark corners or openly stood in the middle of the floor; sometimes in a circle, sometimes not. The melted fallen wax had coagulated into a hard white mess onto the floor; the smell of cheap vanilla scented candles intermingling with the smell of halloween fake blood (and Dipper was convince there had to be some real blood there, too) to create a sour concoction that stung their noses unpleasantly.

The shack was sparsely furnished with rarely any furniture at all. Not even a couch, the tables and chairs simply pushed to the walls to make more space for the endlessly swirling symbols and pentagrams. The twins were hesitant of stepping on any of the summoning circles, carefully sidestepping the candles and walking over the line of the pentagrams.

The attic, where they would be residing, was not much better.

Maybe they did end up in a mad scientist's house, after all.

[mahgyu]

Choso smut + N$FW audio

• minors do not interact! 

──── Choso was feeling so strange about receiving a blowjob for the first time in his life.

And even though it was a new sensation for him, it was surprising. Choso had restless hands, unsure where to put them, his tongue came out of his mouth, wetting his dry thin lips. Choso's cock felt heavy on your tongue, spreading the drops of pre-cum that gathered above the slit, his skin was hot, essentially burning at your touch. He let out a short moan as he felt your wet silky tongue moving slightly under the head of his penis. You used your hands to anchor yourself, your nails leaving crescent moons on the surface of his thick muscular thighs as you gripped him.

On impulse, Choso entered your flexible mouth with more force, the sudden act causing you to gag, which immediately made Choso concerned when he noticed.

But you were quick to reassure him, smiling wickedly at him while still holding him in your mouth. You then moved your fingers down to his heavy balls, caressing them firmly, eliciting a sudden moan from Choso.

"So you're the type who enjoys choking games, Cho? What a dirty boy you're proving to be, huh?" You tease, smiling even wider when you notice him shrinking back shyly. You resume sucking him, this time faster and squeezing him harder.

"N-no, I didn't mean to do t-that, shit, please, slower" He tries to explain as he struggles not to reach his limit yet. The uncomfortable sensation from the beginning was barely present now as pleasure took over.

"Ah, baby, it's okay. You can fuck my throat if you want" Your voice, sounding so velvety while saying such promiscuous things, left Choso mesmerized.

He murmurs softly and you feel the blockage in your throat open up as Choso's cock reaches deeper, but this time slowly. Your mouth gradually closes around Choso's penis, getting tighter for him with each second as he settles shakily into you.

And Choso settled into your little mouth, moaning louder as he felt your throat around him, pushing himself into you until your nose bumped against his pelvis. His head tilted back and eyes tightly shut, his shoulders rising and falling erratically as he frantically tried to control his breathing.

"A-ah, that's it, so deep" Choso says hoarsely, now allowing himself to stroke your hair. You murmured in acknowledgment, running your nails along his thighs, sending shivers down his skin. Choso's breath caught when your throat vibrated around him, causing you to shift position as your pussy became uncomfortably wet, craving touch.

Choso's grip on your hair tightened, now using it to guide your head down rather than having to push into you. His brows furrowed, lips parting in a soft moan as he guided your mouth up and down along his shaft. Your tongue tracing the veins that slightly protruded on his skin, the salty taste of pre-cum coating your mouth entirely. Drool accumulated at the back of your throat and dribbled from the corners of your mouth each time Choso entered or withdrew. You sucked the saliva and pre-cum that flooded your mouth, causing him to feel your throat tighten around his cock every time you swallowed.

"I knew you liked this, you pervert " You tease again, amused and breathless, while Choso, in turn, has his lips curling into a small satisfied smile as he drifts further into his own pleasure.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Finally, Choso's version!! (I think this needs to be turned up a bit more to be heard better)

Which one do you suggest should be next?

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome 🫶🏻💕

[sahkuna]

OH, HIM? HE'S SPOKEN FOR — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: one too many women at this wedding think they've got a shot with gojo satoru. but what they fail to realize is none of them are you, the one who holds his unwavering devotion.

content warning(s): non-curse au, plot before the eventual smut so 18+ mdni, afab/fem! reader, mentions reader wearing a dress, established relationship, unprotected sex, gojo's impatient so you guys get it on an empty room upstairs, exhibitionism (sorta kinda?), brief mentions of jealousy, pet names.

word count: 4.6k+ // i lurve weddings.

For the fifth time this evening, Gojo’s teeth catch his inner cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to spread across his lips.

You’ve got a cute habit of toying with pieces of your clothing or whatever object was within your range whenever something’s nagging at your mind. He wonders to himself if this was something you were aware of.

Unconscious of Satoru’s intense gaze on you, you idly gulp down a cold glass of water and breathe a heavy sigh.

As the evening persists, you’re starting to feel your social battery deplete by the second. It’s been almost a whopping 5 hours since the wedding reception began, and with every hour that crept closer to midnight the more you wanted to throw in the towel and go home.

The poor music selection blaring from the speakers stationed around the venue— a collection composed by the newlywed couple, you presume— didn’t aid in your fight to stay here any longer than necessary.

Your index finger mindlessly loops and unloops around the straps of your attire, and Gojo can’t help but softly knock his foot with yours underneath the table to pull you out of your daze.

Rather than blatantly asking what was wrong, Satoru settles for something else. 

“Relax,” he says in an attempt to settle your nerves. Any effort that he’s previously made to stop himself from smiling is ultimately shot down the moment your eyes catch his. “You look nice, quit worryin’.”

Though you did look nice, the word alone wasn’t enough to bring any justice to how you looked tonight. The venue’s warm and orange lighting flattered and illuminated you too well. There’s more he wants to say, and it’s all on the tip of his tongue. 

But Gojo opts to sit back, eyes soft as they make a trail across your bare shoulders, eventually working his gaze up to your face. There, he traces your features slowly, from your eyes down to your cheeks and they finally stop at your lips.

And his eyes just stay there for a few seconds, lingering on your mouth.

He wants to kiss you so badly. 

To him, it didn’t matter if there was a group of old geezers who you two had to share a table with. Gojo would tune them all out if he had to. But knowing him, the moment his lips would press against yours he wouldn’t be able to pull away on his own accord. 

And you’d rip him a new one if you two ever became “that couple” engaging in heavy practices of PDA in front of such critical eyes.

So, picking up the same glass that you drank from, Gojo drinks from it, swallowing down the rest of your water along with the nagging urge to nip and lick his way into your mouth.

Huffing at the fact that he’s chugged down your drink in one go— despite clearly having more than enough in his glass— you wrestle the cup out of Gojo’s grasp and place it far from his reach.

“Thank you for that, Satoru,” you respond, to both his compliment and how he’s done away with all your water.  

Gojo hums in acknowledgement, completely missing the snarky tone your voice carried. “I’m serious though, you look really good.” 

You flash him a small smile at this. However, it’s short-lived because seconds later your lips pull into a soft pout. 

Noticing the drastic change in your mood, Gojo scoots his chair closer to you so he can get a better read on the situation.

He presses his finger to your forehead, tapping once, then twice. “What’s going on up there, hm?” he inquires.

A bit apprehensive, you start with a drawn-out, “Well…”

Throughout the evening as Gojo's plus one to his distant relative’s wedding, you’ve noticed that no matter where you step the guests at this venue seem to have eyes on you. Or more so to speak, who you came with.

It’s no secret that Gojo draws attention to himself wherever he goes, that part doesn’t need much explaining— especially when his appearance sticks out like a ridiculously beautiful, jaw-droppingly gorgeous sore thumb. But today his magnetic charm has pulled much more than you expected.

Like now.

A couple of tables away from where you two sit— perhaps two or three— is where you spot them. There’s a small group of women who hide their blushes and bashful smiles behind their hands, giggling and blatantly ogling at your dashing boyfriend.

You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t bother you.

…Because it did, big time. 

Suppressing the urge to cringe physically, you turn your sights toward Gojo. “Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask, nodding your head toward the table of women who were whispering amongst themselves.

You could count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to pretend not to eavesdrop whenever one of the bridesmaids would muster up their courage and make their way up to Gojo whenever he was away from you— which was rare because despite being the one who invited you to the wedding, Satoru stuck to you as if he knew no one here.

Humming for a bit, Gojo throws an uncaring glance over his shoulder to view the mini fan club he had unknowingly accumulated tonight. A few have the decency to abruptly look away when he does so, not wanting to be caught in the act. But the others? They boldly send him flirtatious smiles and shy waves, accented with blushing cheeks.

None of which he returns, but you still feel a gnawing ache settle in your stomach.

Gross. 

Finally answering your question, Gojo meets your troubled gaze. “Nah, not really,” he replies. “It gets bothersome, sure, but I usually just ignore it all.”

You don’t respond to this and decide to flick your gaze elsewhere. If he isn’t bothered by it, then this isn’t even that big of a deal. Don’t let it get to you. It’s fine! Perfectly fine.

Blue eyes trail along your face, tracing your expression slowly. Gojo’s face softens, and his hand slips under the table and brushes against your knee before he squeezes. “Why?” he asks suddenly. “Does it bother you?” 

Yes. “No,” you respond a bit too quickly.

“‘No’?” he tries again. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to crack.

“Fine. It does a bit,” you hiss bitterly, your poker face falling into shambles completely. Gojo’s smile stretches a little wider. “So can we leave now, please?”

You don’t know if you can withstand another hour in here with all things considered. 

It’s also essential to note how you gradually find yourself nodding off to sleep every ten minutes or so the longer you’re here at this venue. You’re hoping and praying Gojo takes the bait so he would finally shoot Ichiji a text telling him he should be coming to the venue to pick you two up soon. 

Behind his rounded shades, confusion swirls in his gaze and a subtle pout tugs at his lips. “But they haven’t even handed out the cake yet!” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

You want to throw your head back in exasperation at the fact that the sole reason why you guys were staying out so late was over a damn cake. 

Throwing a cautious glance over your shoulder, you spot the culprit. An extravagant-looking tower of vanilla fondant stares back at you, where it’s situated many tables away from you and over to where the bride and groom sit. 

You don’t know why Satoru likes that crap anyway, fondant is known for its notoriously awful flavour because of how it tastes like an extremely sugary, yet stale donut glaze left out for far too long.

“Oh my God,” you wail, but you’re abruptly aware that your volume has garnered a few pairs of curious eyes to land on you and Satoru from various tables around you.

Smiling awkwardly at your tablemates, you’re prompted to lean in close to the stubborn white-haired man and lower your tone so only he’s privy to what you say next. “Can’t you ask Ijichi to grab something sweet for you on our way to your place?”

Unyielding, Gojo shakes his head. “I’ve tried, believe me,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “But he's always on about how impractical it is for a sweets shop to be open at this time of night.” 

He can’t be serious right now. You think you’re starting to reach your wits' end. “You’re kidding me.”

Thinking you also find Ijichi’s claims outlandish, Gojo leans back in his seat more comfortably. He’s relieved you’re taking his side. “Right?! I tell him all the time that there’s bound to be—”

“I mean you, Satoru,” you say, flashing him a face of disbelief. Gojo wilts a little at this and pouts. 

Pursing his lips, it seems like he’s seriously giving your question some thought. You don’t fault Gojo for having a sweet tooth, but sometimes you wish you could ween him off it. Especially since they got you into predicaments such as this.

But, there is one more thing that Gojo Satoru loves more than his sweets. 

And that’s you.

“Those women really did a number on you, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you throw an incredulous look Gojo’s way. The abrupt topic change flipped so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. He’s purposefully trying to provoke you. 

But why?

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, “What does that have to do with—”

Gojo pushes his chair away from the fancy table and shoves himself up to his feet. Just where does he think he’s going? “You wanna leave, right?”

Like this, you’re able to drink in just how appealing he looks tonight. It’s no wonder since walking in, everyone seemed to rubber-neck their attention to where you two were seated.

You nod slowly, and your hesitant nature has him practically purring when he says, “So let me take you upstairs then. Show ‘em that I’m spoken for already.” 

And at that very moment, you swear you hear the middle-aged woman whose chair is seated one space away from you choke on her drink— you don’t blame her. 

But there’s no way she could’ve heard everything… let alone understand the connotations of what he’s said, right?

She aims a displeased once over toward you and Satoru’s direction and dramatically shuffles her seat closer toward her unsuspecting husband. “My goodness,” she mutters under her breath.

Okay, so she’s heard everything.

Gojo laughs under his breath at the guest’s over-the-top antics and your blood runs a little hot.

Pushing his frames off the bridge of his nose, Gojo’s hand slides them past his hairline to rest on his head. He offers you his hand. “Come with me.”

And you’re sitting there, staring dumbly at his perfectly glossed lips that are decorated with a wicked smile because he knows. He knows you’ll let him whisk you away upstairs to do what even God wants nothing to know of. 

Carefully, Gojo wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you to your feet. “Let’s go.” Delicate fingers slide down past your palm and lace themselves with yours. You move with him when he pulls you toward the back of the venue, near the huge wooden double doors and toward the exit. Leaving behind many shocked guests and a dejected party of bridesmaids.

Which reminds you…

Before you both slip out from view entirely, over your right shoulder you childishly poke your tongue out at the group of women right as the door is about to click shut. 

A sense of relief washes over you when you both finally step out of the ballroom and into the vacant grand hallway. There’s no boisterous noise to pound away inside your skull, just the gentle sound of you and Satoru’s footsteps padding down the marble flooring.

There’s a mix of emotions that swirl inside of you with each step that’s taken toward the main staircase and up to whichever room Gojo wishes to… well, fool around with you in. “You stick your tongue out at them?” he asks.

How in the hell would he have been able to guess that? You stare long and hard at the back of his head, half expecting to catch a glimpse of a third eye you didn’t know was there. However, there’s nothing but white tufts of snowy, white hair glaring back at you.

Or maybe you’re just that predictable.

“By accident,” you murmur, not even bothering to think up an explanation for your weak excuse.

Repeating your answer to himself, Satoru grins. “Cute.”

Stopping in front of one of the doors, with your hand still in his, he knocks on the door with his free hand, silently waiting for a response. 

When there are no signs of life on the other side, Satoru twists the knob and carelessly kicks the door wide open with his black leather shoe. The action was so harsh that the metal knob clunks loudly against the wall,— seeing that there was no door stopper— its sound reverberating off the many walls inside the building.

“Satoru!”

Uncaring for the commotion he’s made, Satoru squeezes your hand before he releases his grip and pulls you inside the small room. 

“Relax,” he drawls, before flicking on the light and kicking the door shut behind him— this time with a little more tact. “It’s fine, no one’s here anyway.” 

No longer tethered by your intertwined hands, Satoru plops himself down onto one of the two leather couches and sinks into the seat. 

Exhaling softly, you shake your head and follow your boyfriend to where he’s seated. You’re about to sit down adjacent to him until his hands abruptly shoot out to stop you.

“Y’know…” he starts, and you’re prompted to stand in between his open legs. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders when he glances up at you, cerulean eyes shimmering when he tells you, “It was kinda cute seeing you get all mad down there.”

“I wasn’t mad!” you deny, a half-truth and half-lie. “It just got to be too much is all.”

Pulling your body closer in between his spread legs, you feel something firm press against you. He couldn’t possibly be… “Are you seriously…” You swallow and clear your throat, trying to not let the heady tone of your voice take over. “Are you seriously hard right now?!”

You emit a pathetic squawk when Satoru’s hands brush up against the back of your knees. His palms run higher and higher up your legs, and the fabric of your dress pools around his forearms until they stop right under the swell of your ass.

“What can I say?” he breathes, his eyes burning with intensity the more he stares at your face, searching for something. “I like it when you get jealous over me.”

This man…

“Wasn’t jealous, either,” you say, leaning more into his touch. The more you stay like this without the two of you doing anything to combat the growing sexual tension, the more desperate and needy you become.

“Yeah?”

A heavy heat settles through your entire body when you slide down and sit on Satoru’s lap. “Yeah…”

His breath heaving in his chest, Satoru leans forward and kisses you, sighing blissfully against your mouth the moment they’re pressed together. Eyes closing, the gentle press of Satoru’s lips— soft and warm— has got you smiling against his skin, to which he returns one of his own.

Dragging his mouth away from yours, he presses a trail of searing, lingering kisses from your cheek and down your jaw.

Pressing in closer, a puff of warm air fans out over the curve of your neck. 

“I’ll make you forget aaall about them,” he whispers his promise to you, fingers curling into your waist. “Make you feel so full.”

Growing flustered with how explicit he’s become with his words— a habit of his that seems to materialize only when you two get like this—your face is screwed tight with embarrassment and you faintly nudge his face out from your proximity and bury yours into his neck. 

“You… you talk a lot,” is all you can muster as you pull him tighter into your embrace.

Satoru’s lips curl into a small smile and he squeezes your hips. The deliberately slow trail of his fingertips smoothing their way from your waist down to the bottom hem of your dress had your mind dizzy with anticipation. 

When they slip underneath your attire, you’re not surprised when he starts to get more handsy. Palming at your thighs before ultimately winding up to the lacey material of your underwear. His index fingers hook around them, making an effort to tug them off you, but he can’t seem to do that just yet due to the obstacle of you sitting on his lap. 

Groaning, Satoru jumps his shoulder, prodding you to lift your face from his neck so that you may see what he wants from you. “Help me out, will you?”

You’re more than happy to oblige by a simple lift of your hips off his lap. With the weight of you temporarily gone, Satoru lowers the underwear down your thighs and to your knees.

One leg at a time you step out of them, leaving nothing but the cool, air-conditioned air of the room breeze past your exposed cunt.

Bunching the garment in his hand, Satoru skillfully tosses it across the room… only for it to land unceremoniously atop a fake fern tucked into a corner of the room.

“Hey!”

Breezing past your sudden exclamation, Satoru's hands slide up your bare thighs and his fingertips tease over your skin, eventually grazing your pussy. When your hips inadvertently jerk back the moment they brush over your clit, your boyfriend holds you still against him.

“Sensitive, huh?” he asks, turning his head to press an affectionate kiss onto your warm cheek. “That’s one of the things I like most about you, how reactive you are.”

Not stopping with his ministrations, your boyfriend’s fingers stroke your bud, rubbing excruciating slow circles against you that send you reeling at the palm of his hands. 

Sounds of content are breathed out from his lungs when he starts to feel you grow wetter and wetter the more he toys with you. Your heart’s pounding loud against your chest, and you’re positive that if Satoru were to press his ear against you and listen real close, he’d be able to hear it.

Groaning, you exhale a pathetic string of nonsense into your boyfriend’s clothed shoulder, tugging harshly at his tie when you start to feel that familiar searing heat start to come undone when he slinks a finger inside you— gathering at the slippery arousal pooling around your inner thighs— only to take it back out again, drawing intricate shapes onto your clit.

“Oh my God,” you mewl, riding his hand now, shedding out of the once flustered facade you had moments prior.

Whispering your name, Satoru unwraps his arm from your waist so he may turn your face to look at him with the free hand that isn’t currently hidden underneath your dress. The tips of your noses brush and he watches you silently with unadulterated desire as you practically come undone by his hand. 

“Kiss me,” he demands, his palm pressing against the back of your nape to bring you closer to him, and you do as you’re told. 

Nipping at your bottom lip, your boyfriend presses one wet kiss after the other against your mouth before his tongue slides inside. The kiss is sloppy and fevered, and your whines are consumed by Satoru when his fingers are poking and curling inside you with passion.

You don’t think you can keep up with him if this continues.

Gasping, you pull away from an all too eager Satoru, who chases your lips only to be met with your cheek when you turn away from him. 

Pouting, the white-haired male searches your face for an explanation. “Why?” he whines, and a brief flash of disappointment strikes his features.

“It’s too much,” you murmur. At this, you feel Satoru’s fingers slow down inside your receptive pussy, but there is the subtle wiggle maybe once or twice to let you know he’s still there. “If you keep going like that I’ll—” You fling a lame hand in the air, hoping the unspoken gesture would speak for itself.

Seemingly catching your drift, a boyish and devilish grin is tacked onto his lips. “Want me to put it inside, then?” He bucks his hips up against your core, not caring if you’d make a mess of his lap. “I want you to feel all of me before that happens. Will you let me, sweetheart?”

There’s some sort of strangled scream that’s caught in your throat the moment the precious pet name drips off his tongue.

 You nod dumbly, to which Satoru laughs sweetly in response.

Lifting you off him, he settles you down onto the black leather seat beside you, not before hiking the bottom half of your dress up to your hips, exposing you completely to him. He presses your back down into the cushion and rests his knee between your legs.

Peeling off the black blazer from his shoulders, Gojo lets the article of clothing drop to the floor before his hands unbuckle his ridiculously expensive belt.

He’s taking his sweet ass time and he knows it because there’s an amused glint that swirls in his eyes the more he looks down at you.

“Hurry. Up,” you bite, unsure if you can withstand any more of his teasings. 

“You’re impatient as ever,” he jabs, tone laced with artificial annoyance.  Finally undoing his zipper, Satoru frees himself from the confines of his slacks and boxers before his hand finds the back of your knee, pushing it down toward your chest to get you ready for him. 

Right before the crown of his head can slip past the entrance of your slit, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking down the hallway catches your attention.

Shit, shit, shit!

You make moves to sit up and at least get yourself together, in case the oblivious stranger miraculously chooses your room out of all the others to walk into for God knows what.

However, Gojo has a different agenda. 

The corners of his lips quirk up as the sounds of what you predict to be two people, approach closer and closer down the hallway and toward your door. Satoru pins you back down and offers you a few words of encouragement along the lines of how good of a job you’re doing, before the thick head of his cock slides into you.

You both moan at the intoxicating sensation. However the sound of his runs deeper, like a pained grunt. It was as if he were a man possessed.

Fucking himself sweetly inside your tight, greedy hole, you can’t stop thinking of the fact that with each step you hear, the closer you are to toeing the line of you and Satoru being walked in on.

God, what would even do in such a situation? Keep going? Stop altogether?

“Fuuuck,” Satoru breathes, the vulgar somewhat audible sounds of your bodies grinding and bucking together had you thinking with other body parts rather than your head.

Yeah, no shot were you stopping anytime soon.

“I should’ve known he was taken, Airi!” You hear a voice exclaim from down the hall. “I mean, look at him!”

Yeah, look at him.

A furious pink blush crawls up Satoru’s neck and hues the tips of his ears as his hips drive in and out of you at such a gruelling, slow pace. His mouth is slightly parted open and the harsh sound of his laboured breathing can be heard echoing off the room’s wall with each thrust he sends inside your pussy.

He looks positively debauched right now. 

His tie (if you could even call it that now) barely can hold itself together, and a few buttons of his linen white shirt are now loose— revealing the milky expanse of his chest. He can’t seem to control his facial expressions either because one moment pale, white brows are furiously pinched together as he obscenely stretches your insides, and the next moment pleasure is etched onto those angelic features of his.

A second voice chips in, who you assume to be the woman’s friend. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

You can hear the sulk in the woman’s voice when she mutters, “I guess…” 

You’re half relieved when you hear their footsteps walk past your door entirely, unsuspecting of the pure filth that was going on behind it. 

But deep down in you, tucked somewhere far away is the feeling of excitement, knowing that you and Satoru could’ve been sniffed out at any second had you been a wee bit careless and more loud

With the coast clear, you cry out as Satoru sinks his throbbing hard length deeper inside you. His cock expertly works you open, leaving you twisting and writhing in pleasure as you start to near orgasm.

“Feels good, right?”

“So good,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him impossibly closer to you. 

“Don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop, Satoru,” you beg him weakly, you feel like you’re about to explode. It’s too hot. It feels too good and a bundle of nerves in your core is ready to snap.

With one hand secured on your leg, supporting how it rests around his slender yet muscular waist, Satoru’s other hand comes up to palm and kneads at your clothed breast.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he groans, kissing you through your panting breaths. “You take me so well, just hold on…”

Giving into the pleasure, Gojo’s hips now snap faster into you, his big hands gripping and squeezing your ass possessively, pinning your hips to the couch.

Rocking harder and faster now, Satoru’s whimpers reach a whole new octave as he’s forced to pull out of you when his balls start to pulse threateningly, alerting him that he’s nearing his release.

Shuddering, Satoru strokes mindlessly and you gasp when something warm and gooey dribbles down your lower belly and toward your pubic bone.

“Agh! I—” He’s still pumping and there are small beads of cum weeping out the slit of his tip when’s rubbed all that he’s had left to give out. It drools off his dick and drips onto your lips. “I couldn’t help it…” he responds, knowing that he had nothing nearby to wipe you off with.

At least he had the sense not to come on your dress. 

Content with his performance, Satoru gives your butt one last cheeky pinch before tucking himself back into his pants. You close your legs. “We should do this more often.”

Shimmying your dress back to its proper state, you turn to him with a questioning glance. “What— What do you mean?” you ask.

You’re hyper-aware of his cum that’s beginning its slow descent down your leg. You need to take of that and fast.

Gojo points a tired finger between you and him, and then circling it around the room, he adds to this by saying, “Getting it on in public? I like it, it heightens the ‘experience’.”

You push him away from your body and mutter for him to shut up as you prop yourself off your back and into a proper sitting position. 

Throwing an arm across his face with his forearm shielding his eyes, Gojo laughs a little. “So, are we heading back in?” he asks you. “They must’ve cut the cake by now…”

You have the most insufferable boyfriend known to man. After this whole ordeal, he was still thinking about that fucking cake. 

“I can’t stand you, Satoru.”

thank you for reading :)

[nanaminokanojo]

MASTERLIST

Sukuna is pissed.

The reason? You moved away from him in your sleep when he wanted to hold you close.

In your own subtle ways, you've always complained about how unaffectionate he is. You didn't explicitly say it, but he did notice how your mood would shift, your pretty little smiles barely masking your disappointment when he would do or say anything remotely cold or mean. And now that he was giving you what you wanted, you just roll away from him, depriving him of your warmth and the affection he expects you to reward him.

How you even managed to escape four of his arms to find your own corner of the bed was a big puzzle to him. You've always slept peacefully pressed to his side on most nights, and you didn't really move much once he had two of his arms wrapped around your frail form. Perhaps you were doing it on purpose after he had evidently upset you during supper by dismissing you when you asked about his day. There was nothing to tell, and though he understands that your concerns came from a good place, he still refused to tell you of the horrors of the world he found himself so deeply embroiled in.

Sukuna, however, brushed off the idea. You wouldn't dare. Or would you? He was just protecting you. Why would you hold that against him?

He chose not to entertain the thought, thinking it was just you moving in your sleep. And so, he reached for you, gently placing his arms over and underneath you to pull you closer. But it hadn't even been a minute of him holding you when you started letting out these seemingly irritated noises and shortly after, you were turning your back on him.

"What –" He stopped himself when you breathed in deeply, half expecting to hear sobs if you were truly upset with him, but then, your breathing rhythm returned to normal. You were still fast asleep.

Sukuna shrugged, already feeling his temper rising at the thought that you could sleep just fine without him. The thought of it annoyed him, and that was an understatement. He decided to move closer to you then, but as soon as he did, pressing your back on his bare chest, you started squirming, a dissatisfied groan leaving your lips.

At that, he rose slightly on his elbow, taking offense. "Woman, what is your problem?" he demanded, making you lie down flat on your back, startling you. "Is something ailing you?" This time, he spoke gently, watching as you slowly blinked up at his frowning face like you haven't got a clue what he's talking about. And then you closed your eyes before favoring your left side, going back to sleep.

"You –"

"What?" you whined without facing him, annoyed that your sleep was being disturbed.

Sukuna scoffed. You've really done it this time. Nobody dared speak to him that way. "What now? You don't want me anymore? I thought you wanted –"

In one swift movement, he found himself being tackled onto the bed as you turned around and threw yourself against him, immediately finding your spot in the crook of his neck. His two left arms instinctively wrapped around you, keeping you cradled in them as you snuggled closer, planting a kiss under his collarbone as if to appease him before you were falling back asleep.

"You could have just stayed like this –"

"Shh."

Did you just shush him? And as if to punctuate it, you raised your hand, your fingers blindly yet tenderly brushing his lips and staying there.

"Wife, you are aware I have two mouths, aren't you?" he spoke against your fingers, fighting a smile.

You moved your head back to smirk at him as you threw a leg over his abdomen right where his other mouth was, your thigh preventing it from saying anything.

"There. Problem solved."

[bitterrfruit]

Simon forgets how strong he is

18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words

just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!

Simon forgets how to be gentle.

When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.

But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.

The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.

And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.

You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"

The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.

His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.

Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.

So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.

His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.

With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."

His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.

"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.

Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.

You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.

"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"

Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."

Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.

"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.

"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."

"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."

You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.

His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.

You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."

[lovelyghst]

just imagine ghost getting his Jacob's ladder piercing while he's dating you and after it's healed yall have sex for the first time and it's just like sensory overload

i know absolutely nothing about piercings, but this idea is simply too good to pass up. my brain is melting.

hmmm, thinking about ghost who, despite not being able to properly get off himself, is still so attentive to his sweet girl throughout the whole healing process; offering you his mouth and fingers whenever he notices your focus beginning to drift off and shift elsewhere, having you rub yourself up on his jean-clad thigh when you can’t seem to shake the burst of energy.

because while you never outright asked him for anything of the kind, he just knew.

and even if you were the one so insistent on following the piercer’s advice—taking each and every precaution possible in avoiding the risks that simon shrugged off as ‘not gonna happen.’—you still felt bad. though, he couldn’t resist your stern pouting for long, turning weak the moment you cocked your head and promised him a sweet treat when he’s all healed up.

so, of course, ‘whatever you say, doll.’

anything to put your pretty mind at ease. he is a soldier, after all. he can wait, even if it kills him. it got pretty damn close to it, too.

which is what makes the first time back so fucking good. that reunion, and the return of that glimmering look you get in your eyes every other time he presses his pink lips to your collar and gently hikes you up the mattress after a long time away.

and truthfully, he was done in the moment you tapped him on his shoulder and told him to guess what day it was.

“shit, baby—” he grits out with a heavy breath, eyes trained on your own as he watches you reverently lick up the underside of his cock. your fingers tighten around the base when his abs pull taut, tongue gliding over the cool metal.

taking your time in feeling each and every barbell leading to the tip, making him twitch in your hand at the hot and wet drag over his sensitive skin. a heavy breath seeps from his lungs, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold off. jesus, you’re too good to him.

a sweet fucking treat, indeed.

you giggle before taking the head of him between your swollen, spit-stained lips, reveling in the quick hiss he sucks in through his teeth as you whine at the familiar taste of his pre leaking onto your tongue. your other hand slips up his thigh while you squeeze your own together, your freshly done-up nails leaving little, pink crescent shapes in his thick skin.

“fuck— not gonna last ‘f you keep that up,” he warns, a struggle in and of itself, and it’s an utter miracle he doesn’t collapse to the floor when you only hollow your cheeks and suck in response. he hardly manages to stifle an embarrassingly whorish moan at that.

god, you look so pretty down there, on your knees for him. so fucking debauched, and so, so perfect.

the way your thumb toys with the piercings as you have your own fun, and how you preen in his hold like a sweet cat when he slips a hand to the back of your neck. he’s going to miss it when he forces himself to pull you away, frowning at the pout you give him as he’s lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to your bed.

“’m sorry, sweetheart… just too fuckin’ pretty for yer old man anymore— didn’t want it t’go to waste.”

he kisses your temple, mumbling his apologies in your hair. you hardly even register your bare back making contact with your sheets, so wrapped up in his hold, before he’s kissing his way down your neck.

“wanna fill yer pretty cunt,” he murmurs, and it’s nearly incoherent as his lips press against your racing pulse point. “make ‘er cum ‘round my cock… know y’missed it too, sweet girl. a proper fuck…”

he’s talking more to himself than anything, and a small gasp from you follows soon after when his arm is snaked between your bodies and his fingertips make contact with your swollen, little clit. won’t even stretch you out with his fingers; he’s had his fill of that over the course of the last month. let him feel how much you missed his cock.

“poor thing’s soaked f’me, baby.” he groans as he adjusts on his forearm and regains his bearings, dick twitching against your thigh with every noise squeaked out from your throat. “cunt’s gonna take me just right, lovie… so fuckin’ well…”

he rambles a lot when he’s needy, you’ve come to learn.

you whine when his hand leaves you to take his cock in a fist, your nails digging into his chest and shoulder when he presses the head to your messy pussy. just the tip in and you’re already seeing stars, the shared moan between the two of you raw and pornographic.

he’s gritting out his swears before you try to shush his dirty mouth with a kiss, and he accepts it greedily, almost too eagerly.

your body reacts to his, simultaneously craving more and trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation all at once. your brain is fuzzy by the time he’s nearly bottoming out inside you, ears deaf to the unabashed sounds spilling from your lips as the feeling of his fresh piercings dragging against your every sweet spot burns itself into your memory.

and before you can catch your breath, a thumb is being pressed up against your sensitive bud once again, your legs constricting around him involuntarily as you jolt with a cry. heat prickles at your skin, his teeth at your jaw making your spine tingle.

he’s telling you to cum, begging you to make a mess of his cock.

his hand picks up its pace, hips grinding against yours sloppier than ever as he pleads right up against your temple for you to use him, just finish him off, fucking cum for him.

you squeeze around his cock like a vice and pull him straight under with you, arms locked tight around his neck as your pretty cunt utterly wrecks him. making him throb and twitch, fucking himself dumb through his high and wringing him dry of everything he’s kept pent up for you. at least for now, anyway.

his and your panting rings out in the room as he sits back on his knees, his cock still hard as he gently pulls out of you. watching his pearly cum bead from your slit, your chest gradually slowing down within the time he takes to drool over the sight of you.

it’s not long before simon has you laying on your tummy with your head in the soft sheets, a pillow slipped underneath your hips to prop you up. not making you do an ounce of work as he uses your warm, pliant cunt as his sweet cum dump for hours on end.

fucking you gently, lovingly, all while trying his best to keep his weight off your back. he kisses behind your ear, cooing praises and choked grunts that make your tummy flutter with butterflies. you can only giggle into the pillow nestled in your arms as he makes up for all the lost time.

filling you with load after load, the number becoming lost on your fuzzy mind after a certain amount, until your belly is achingly full and his cock is numb from overstimulation. only to coax you onto your back, easing your limp legs apart to watch his cum leak from your pretty hole. pressing a flat palm to your lower tummy, sighing in time with your strangled noises as your sensitive pussy drips more of his spend. leaning forward and licking it all up like some starved mutt; groaning at the taste, arms tightening around your hips as he eats his mess out of his pretty girl.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji witnesses his son’s first steps and it nearly makes the grown man cry.

wc. 1k

tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama.’ life if gege just gave us what we wanted. ending is a bit rushed if you couldn't tell.

“gumi, look here,” you coo at your child who’s sitting in his playpen. you’re laying against some stuffed animals, too tired to move after doing all kinds of chores. the baby looks up at you with curious eyes and you take your chance to make a silly face.

megumi giggles and responds by throwing a small toy your way. it accidentally hits your head, though luckily it isn’t anything too heavy.

toji, who laid lazily on the opposite side of the playpen, watches the scene unfold. he grins once he sees you rub the spot on your forehead, “oi, megumi, careful with y’r mama.”

you chuckle, dropping your dramatic act. you ruffle megumi’s hair a bit before standing up. a yawn escapes your lips and you stretch your arms above your head—clearly in need of a break.

“i’m gonna take a quick nap, honey,” your eyes meet toji’s. your husband nods and sits up with a groan. he’s also sleepy, but he knows that you did most of the work today. he’ll gladly watch over megumi while you rest and regain your energy.

megumi starts to fuss the moment you step out of the playpen. his tiny hands reach out to you—the little boy clearly too attached to his mother. toji shakes his head and effortlessly picks his son up and puts him on his lap, “naw, y’re stuck with me buddy. mama’s gotta rest.”

megumi squirms around and whimpers. he’s clearly not interested in his dad at the moment. toji sighs and tries his best to keep the baby still, but to no avail.

“mama! mama!” the baby’s cries for you breaks your heart. you stop a a couple steps away and turn around with a pout. you notice how megumi is kicking his legs, thrashing around in toji’s arms in attempt to free himself.

you sigh and crouch down, “gumi, mama’s sleepy. . papa’s gonna play with you, okay?”

megumi, of course, does not understand what you mean. he thinks you’re leaving him alone and it causes him to wail loudly. you’re about to console your son, but backtrack when you notice how megumi’s starting to stand up on his own.

his chubby legs are barely holding his body weight up. the balance is hard to find for the baby, yet he still does his utmost best. he nearly trips from just standing.

even toji looks on with wide eyes and a hint of a prideful grin on his lips. he’s silently encouraging his son in his head.

“ma..ma,” megumi babbles. he almost topples over, but toji’s quick reflexes come in handy. a big hand keeps the baby standing straight. the dark-haired man carefully lets go again, however keeps his hand near his son’s body. just in case.

neither toji nor you could believe what was happening. you both watch in awe as megumi’s left foot moves forward—the right one copying that same movement.

your precious boy, taking his first steps right in front of you both to witness. it’s a heartwarming sight. you hold your breath and toji’s lips part slightly. your husband has yet to grasp why this scene in front of him makes him feel so. . . giddy on the inside.

“c’mon! come to mama!” you squeal excitedly and open your arms, encouraging megumi to your best ability. the tiny boy giggles and moves his limbs as fast as they could go. his chubby hands flail around as he quickly walks over to you.

toji stares at his family and that’s when it hits him; how much he loves this peaceful life. his son just achieved another great milestone that he had the honour of witnessing firsthand. it made him happy that he chose this path instead of the more ‘darker’ one.

it also nearly causes your husband to shed some tears from pure joy. but, toji didn’t want to seem too ‘soft’. even if he secretly is for his wife and child.

toji coughs subtly. totally not to get rid of the irritating lump in his throat. a ghost of a smile appears on his face while he got up, immediately moving towards megumi and you.

“good job, kiddo,” toji says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he stares down at megumi in your arms—the little boy getting drowned in kisses and compliments.

your ears twitch. there’s no denying it; the faint crack in toji’s voice. you give your kid a break from your overwhelming affection and tilt your head back. your eyes meet your husband’s.

you grin when you see how he quickly avoids your gaze. something he never does unless he’s. . . “gonna cry?”

toji rolls his eyes at your question. he ignores your teasing by trying to change the subject. he focuses on megumi who’s still going absolutely wild in your embrace—cutely demanding more praise and kisses.

“daddy can also give ya some kisses, y’know,” toji pokes megumi’s cheek, fascinated by the plush fat. the baby stops babbling the moment his dad talks to him. he looks up at toji and then back at the finger still prodding at his cheek.

megumi opens his mouth and doesn’t waste a single second. he goes for a playful bite, though his little baby teeth do no real damage, “yumm.”

you giggle at the way megumi frowns at toji, his teeth holding tightly onto toji’s fingertip. it’s time for your husband to take over the dramatics now.

“hey, that ain’t so nice now,” toji hisses and leans forward until his face is right in front of megumi—a similar frown on both the dad and son’s faces. they really do look alike now that you see them both from up close again.

megumi only bites down more on the finger in his mouth and toji reacts to that by feigning his anger. it’s amusing to see how neither of them gives up first.

but, it’s also rather cute to see how the father-son dynamic plays out in cozy family moments like these.

your eyes focus back on toji’s face and you can’t help but smile to yourself. he’s a good husband and father; always there for the both of you. his own way of showing support for megumi’s first steps is rather heartwarming. plus, the playful banter between the two never fails to make any moment all the more precious.

[cyberesc]

IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND.

pairing: Prohero!Bakugo x Prohero!Reader

synopsis: After every mission, Katsuki makes it a habit of checking you for injuries. It’s a routine that’s as comforting as it is embarrassing, especially when your friends start to get the wrong idea.

rating: fluff

The hum of the city buzzed in the background as you and the rest of your team made your way back to the agency. The mission had been a success—minimal collateral damage, civilians unharmed, and the villain apprehended. But the moment you stepped through the doors of the agency’s lobby, you knew what was coming.

Katsuki Bakugou, your ever-determined longtime friend, was already making his way toward you, his gaze sharp and focused. You barely had time to greet the others before Katsuki was in front of you, his eyes scanning you up and down like he was searching for something.

“Kats, I’m fine,” you started to say, but it was no use.

Without a word, his hands reached out and cupped your face, his palms warm and calloused against your skin. He tilted your head gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he examined you for any signs of injury.

It was the same routine every time you finished a mission. No matter how minor or major, Katsuki always insisted on checking you over himself, making sure you hadn’t gotten hurt in the line of duty. It was sweet, in his own way, but it was also… a little embarrassing, especially when it happened in front of your friends.

“Seriously, I’m okay,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up under his intense scrutiny.

“Just shut up and let me look,” he muttered back, his voice low but firm.

You sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. Katsuki was nothing if not thorough. His red eyes flicked over your face, lingering on a small scrape on your forehead that you’d barely noticed.

“This,” he said, brushing his thumb lightly over the scrape, “looks like it needs disinfecting.”

“It’s just a scratch,” you protested weakly, though the concern in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re getting it cleaned up.”

By now, you were well aware that the rest of your team was watching. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kirishima grinning like an idiot, Mina whispering something to Kaminari, and Sero trying—and failing—to suppress his smirk.

They’d all gotten it into their heads that you and Katsuki were more than just friends. It wasn’t hard to see why, what with the way he was always looking out for you, always making sure you were okay, but the truth was… well, the truth was you wouldn’t mind if they were right.

But Katsuki had never said anything to make you think he saw you as anything more than a teammate and a friend. Sure, he was protective, and sure, he got in your personal space a lot, but that was just how Katsuki was. He cared about the people in his life, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“There,” Katsuki finally said, letting go of your face with a satisfied nod. “No other injuries?”

“Nope, that was it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Good as new.”

“Hmph.” He gave you one last look, as if double-checking, before stepping back.

You exhaled in relief, glad to have your space back, even if you did miss the warmth of his hands. But before you could fully regain your composure, Mina was suddenly at your side, her arm slung around your shoulders as she grinned up at you.

“You two are just too cute,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Honestly, how long are you gonna keep us all in suspense?”

“Mina, come on,” you groaned, trying to brush her off, but she was relentless.

“What? It’s obvious! The way he looks at you, the way you let him fuss over you—” She glanced at Katsuki, who was glaring at her but not denying anything, “—you two are like a married couple already.”

“Shut it, Raccoon Eyes,” Katsuki snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t nobody asked for your commentary.”

“Oh, touche, touche,” Kaminari chimed in, winking at you. “C’mon, Y/N, you’ve got to admit, it’s kinda romantic.”

“Yeah,” Sero added with a grin. “You’ve got your very own knight in shining armor.”

You could feel your face heating up even more, and you shot a pleading look at Kirishima, hoping he might intervene. But Kirishima just laughed, clearly enjoying the show. “Hey, man, they’re not wrong! You two have some serious chemistry.”

Katsuki looked like he was about to explode, and you decided it was time to put an end to the teasing before it got out of hand. “Okay, okay, that’s enough!” you said, holding up your hands. “We’ve all had a long day, so let’s just… chill, alright?”

Mina pouted, but she finally relented, giving you a playful nudge. “Fine, fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook. We’re gonna keep an eye on you two.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful that the attention was finally off you, but when you glanced back at Katsuki, you found him staring at you, his expression unreadable.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—to diffuse the tension, but Katsuki beat you to it.

“Next time, don’t get hurt,” he said, his voice gruff but soft enough that only you could hear. “Can’t stand seeing you like that.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was nod. There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable that made your heart ache.

“I’ll try,” you managed to say, your voice a little shakier than you’d like.

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, before turning on his heel and heading toward the locker rooms. But before he disappeared, he glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze locking with yours. “Get that scrape cleaned up.”

You watched him go, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, and it wasn’t until Mina nudged you again that you realized you were still staring.

“See what I mean?” she whispered, winking. “Totally smitten.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands, but the truth was, you didn’t mind as much as you pretended to. Because even if Katsuki’s habit of fussing over you was a little embarrassing, it was also the highlight of your day.

And maybe, just maybe, one day you’d find the courage to tell him how much those moments meant to you.

© property of cyberesc 2024. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works and do not repost/copy onto any other sites.

[tarrynightss]

what happens when sukuna’s precious little jewel actually does get pregnant ???

I’m so glad you asked Anon hehe

Concubine!reader x Sukuna thoughts part 1 here

Tags; Pregnancy, Concubine!fem!Reader, smut below cut, breeding kink, size difference, bit of lactation kink

Sukuna is not surprised when it happens after all the hard work you both put into realizing his dream. He notices a subtle change in your smell, in the energy that pulsates around you when he caresses his hand over your body. A wide grin splits on his face as he lays his hand over your lower stomach, his chest sturdy against your back. He can’t help but nuzzle his face against the side of your head, inhaling more of your intoxicating smell. “It took.”. Those simple words have your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest, looking back at him to ensure you understood correctly. “You’re with child.”

He’s overjoyed with the prospect of having a baby, an heir of his own. He’s more affectionate than he ever was, taking time to settle you close against him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the growing bump on your stomach. He even caresses your hair and kisses you in an attempt to comfort you when you feel pain, all of it shockingly gentle for Sukuna. In his mind there’s a simple explanation. You did as he wanted, and you continue to do your duty well, ensuring his child is safe and growing strong inside you even when it hurts you, so you should be rewarded for it.

Sukuna has always been wary of others, but with the pregnancy he turns outright paranoid. With the amount of enemies he has he worries that one might now lash out and target you and your baby. He focuses more on maintaining barriers around the house, has someone sample your food in front of him before it’s allowed to be served to you, and you never sleep alone anymore, him always curled protectively against your side. He also decides to dismiss a large portion of his harem, not trusting them to have your best interest in mind. He knows how jealous humans can get, had seen women scratch each others eyes out just to get ahead of the other, and so the only other concubines allowed to stay are the ones you claim are your friends. He still keeps a careful eye on them, only truly allowing it because he knows that when the time comes, you will need women to aid you through it, and he doesn’t trust random midwives more than he trusts them.

Sukuna will spoil you more than ever, making sure you are comfortable in whatever way he can offer. The pregnancy is clearly taking a toll on you, your stomach having grown large and heavy, and he almost worries the size difference between you that excited him so might become the death of you. He carries you basically everywhere the last two months, wrapping you up in his strong arms and doing anything you need of him. It’s quite ironic; you used to be the one helping him get dressed, fawning over your master, and now he does the opposite for you. Though you know it’s out of necessity, it still makes your heart flutter.

That Sukuna is stressed out when you finally give birth is putting it lightly. He waits outside as customary, trying to appear stoic but panicking on the inside at your pained screams. As soon as he hears a baby cry, he barges in, watching as another concubine places the child against your bare chest. He quickly finds himself on his knees beside you, brushing one large hand over your sweaty forehead to comfort you as the other joins you in holding your baby. It’s a daughter, but she’s healthy and strong, screaming her lungs out for a minute more before calming down. You laugh, and he breathes in deeply, knowing you both made it. Relieve makes him bend forward and press a kiss to your forehead, leaning back just in time to see the child’s eyes open. Four in total, just like her father, but with the scarlet stare replaced by the lovely color of your eyes.

It surprises everyone, including you, how much of an involved father he is, holding his baby as often as he can, a large finger prodding at her pouty lips till she smiles and coos. When you apologize to him for not giving him a son, he stares at you blankly, gesturing for you to rise from where you kneel before him, putting one hand on your cheek as two others still cradle your baby. “I don’t need your apology. The child is healthy, and you will give me a son next time.” The surprise is evident on your face as your eyes snap to his. Not only is he being benevolent, but he also just said he wants another child with you. You were afraid he would discard you like a broken toy after this, no longer interesting enough to him, but it seems you still manage to hold your position as his favorite, bringing a smile to your face.

It has to be said that Sukuna can’t take his eyes off of you from the moment that tiny bump appears on your stomach. There’s something about it, about you, that makes every fiber of his being crave touching you. Maybe it’s that famous pregnancy glow, or maybe it’s the fact that he knows he’s the one who fucked a baby into you. You’re his, more clearly now than ever, and it excites him beyond his own comprehension.

Luckily for Sukuna, the hormones coursing through your body have you seeking him out desperately throughout most of your pregnancy. The first few months he fucks you like he wants to ruin you, rutting into you like an addict, but as soon as you really start showing he becomes more gentle. He wouldn’t risk seriously hurting you or his child, often seating you in his lap as he thrusts into you, his mouth lapping at your sweet neck. You still mewl so sweetly for him, so eagerly, and he already knows he might want to do this all over again after you’ve given him his first child.

Sukuna takes such good care of his little jewel, even massaging your poor sore breasts, teasing your aching nipples with his tongue. The changes to your body have him drooling all over you, his hands constantly on your growing breasts or belly. It becomes a guilty pleasure of his to touch you there, enjoying just having you on his lap as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, loving the way you squirm against him.

You find some of the changes quite embarrassing, especially when your breasts start leaking milk as you enter your third trimester. He only grins wolfishly when he notices the wet patches on the fabric covering your breasts, tutting as he pulls you to his chambers. “You need to relieve the pressure, little one.” And of course your benevolent master knows just how to do it, massaging your breasts till more drops come out, making sure he’s right there to help you through it all. This definitely gets far worse after you’ve given birth and your milk fully comes in, aching painfully to be released, Sukuna hot on your heels after ensuring your baby is fed to ‘help’ you.

[nanaslutt]

when your boyfriend asks you to cheat on him with his best friend

ʚ ft. cuck!Geto Suguru, Gojo satoru x reader

ʚ cont: established relationship, fem reader, cucking, Geto is a perv, cumming untouched, oral, dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, praise, pull-out method, dacraphillia

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

...."What?" You replied quietly, even though you heard his words loud and clear. "W-why would you want that?" You asked, noticing how much harder it became to keep eye contact. Geto had invited Gojo over to hang out, the three of you lounging around in the living area, hanging out, when you noticed Geto's demeanor change a bit.

He knew how much Gojo wanted you, it was obvious. Gojo would never say it first, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Of course, Geto was his best friend and you were his girlfriend, so he would never act on any of his deep dark impulses, but that didn't stop him from making innuendos here and there, maybe touching your shoulder a little too long, looking at your body in a way he shouldn't when you turned around, unable to notice him checking you out. But Geto did, he noticed it all.

Instead of being pissed at his best friend, all the little touches and teases, the almost advances he made on his girl, made his pants tight. Usually, he could bare with it, hold out until his white-haired best friend went home before he picked you up and fucked you on the couch right where you and Gojo were just sitting, but today was different.

Geto's mouth was running dry watching Gojo's fingers rub the couch as he laid his arm out behind you, relaxed. He knew Gojo craved to be caressing your skin instead, that's what drove him so crazy. The way his best friend kept dropping his gaze to your lips, your breasts, all of it, it was driving him mad. So mad, that he had to excuse himself, and you, from Gojo's company, pulling you into his bedroom where he spilled his deep dark desires, unable to keep them inside any longer.

"Fuck I don't know, I don't know," Geto said, covering his mouth with his hand. He kept it there for a moment, looking around the room in thought before he dragged his hand down his face and reached out to grab yours. "All I know is that whenever I think about him fucking you in front of me, it makes me so fucking hard I can barely stand it." He said, looking frantic, impatient. 

You dropped your eyes to his crotch and noticed the very obvious, twitching bulge he was sporting in his sweats, he was serious. "If you don't wanna do it just forget it, it's fine really I just needed to say somethin-" "How long have you been feeling like this?" You asked, cutting him off. You kept your eyes on him, fighting the urge to look away bashfully. Geto stopped his rambling, his mouth falling slightly open as he just looked at you. You didn't say no.

"So long baby, so fucking long. Can't help but think about it every time he's around you." Geto said, a blush biting the tips of his ears. You felt a sudden rush of heat flood down between your thighs at his shamelessness. It was a lot to take in so suddenly. To be honest you had never thought of Gojo in that way before, so having Geto confess something like this was a bit of a shock. It wasn't that you thought Gojo was ugly, or even thought he would be back in the sack, it's just you truly hadn't thought about it. 

Why would you have? He was Geto's bestfriend. But apparently, Geto would like it if you did think about him that way. "How... how do you know you really want this?" You asked, keeping your voice low and quiet, cautious for Gojo to not overhear as he was just in the other room. Geto stepped closer to you, using both his large hands to grab your waist, pressing your pelvis against his. You could feel his boner poke you just above your cunt, making your eyebrows knit together.

"I've dreamt about it baby, dreamt about him fucking you. You have no idea how much I think about this." He whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His words made you blush as you looked between your bodies at his hard cock, that he was ever so slightly rubbing against you. "Dreams are different from reality Sugu... what if..." You paused, wanting to find the right words before you spoke.

"Say me and Gojo really did it in front of you." Just the mention of the hypothetical had Geto nodding at your words and pulling his lip between his teeth. "What if you were wrong and you don't actually want this? I don't want to hurt you Sugu." You said, grabbing his face with both of your palms. Geto smiled and leaned into the touch. "You know I won't let anything happen if I'm not okay with it. I promise you though baby, with 100% certainty, that I will like it, I need it." He responded, easing your worries.

"Do you... think you can do it though? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable just for my interesting kinks." Geto said, his words making you huff a laugh through your nose. "I haven't ever thought about... fucking Satoru, but he's pretty easy on the eyes." You joked, "It should be fine." Geto groaned at that, his head falling forward and landing on your shoulder.

"I love you so much you know that? 'S gonna be so fucking hard not to cream in my pants just watchin' you two kiss." He whispered against your neck, his words alone riling him up. "Baby..." You said softly, running your hands through his hair. "Will Satoru be okay with this?" You asked, making Geto raise his head to look at you, a telling smile already on his face. 

Once Geto collected himself enough to not walk like he was hiding a bomb in his pants, the two of you left the small room he pulled you into and back into the living room, where Gojo was sprawled on the couch, legs spread far apart, arms around the back of the cushions.

You swallowed hard, trying to remember what Geto told you to do. You could do it, for him, you could do it. Gojo turned his head toward the two of you when he saw your figures renter the room. "There you are~ Was starting to think you two were getting handsy somewhere." Gojo teased. You kept walking toward him, not faltering in your pace, not uttering a word back, not so much as breathing. Geto stopped a couple of feet from the couch, just watching you with bated breath for what was about to happen.

Gojo lazily looked up to meet your face when his view of the TV was obstructed by your body. "What are ya-" His words were cut short when you placed both hands on his shoulders and plopped yourself down onto his lap. Gojo's hands jerked in front of him and just hovered inches from your hips, which were now straddling his. His mouth opened to speak again but he was promptly cut off when you grabbed his soft cheeks in your hands and pressed his lips against yours.

The white-haired man made a noise of surprise against you, his body going rigid. Gojo's eyes were wide as his brain tried to catch up to what the hell was happening. His eyes found Geto's, just on the outside of his peripherals, and he was met with his best friend's large frame standing just as still as he was, eyes lower than usual, arms crossed, and of course, a huge fucking boner in his pants.

Gojo caught on quickly, a small huff of a laugh leaving his nose just before you pulled back, looking at him uncertainty, like you were waiting for him to react. "I think I know what's going on," Gojo said, smirking mischievously. Geto stayed quiet, opting to slowly sit down on the couch next to him that faced the large sofa, housing his best friend and his girlfriend, straddling his hips.

"This a test or somethin' or is this for real?" Gojo asked, astonished. The tips of his ears started to grow hot, as did the rest of his body. "Does it look like I'm joking?" Geto asked, his shaky hand grabbing ahold of his bulge, not rubbing it, just putting some pressure on himself, his other arm laying on the arm of the couch. "Fuck." Gojo huffed, a smile still on his face as he looked between the two of you.

"So what do you want from me? Want me to fuck her? Is that it?" Gojo asked, finally closing the distance between his hands and your hips, grabbing them steadily, making you press yourself fully down on his lap. You winced at the feeling of his bulge poking against you, his mannerisms were so different that Geto's, but having Geto here made you feel a lot more comfortable. And you trusted Gojo, of course. 

"Yeah," Geto replied, nodding. Gojo's smile grew before he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at you, cocking his head to the side. "You want that too? Want me to fuck you while your boyfriend watches?" Gojo was already in this. He really could adapt to any situation surprisingly quickly. You turned your head to look at Geto, but your gaze was quickly corrected when Satoru gripped the bottom half of your face and made you look back at him.

"I asked you, baby." He smiled, his words teasing and light, but his touch rough. Gojo looked down at your plush lips before his eyes fell back on yours, his head inching closer to your face. "Want me to fuck you? Make you cum all over my cock?" He whispered, his hot breath tickling your face, making you whine quietly at his words. When you nodded coyly your consent, Gojo laughed, releasing your chin.

"Maaaan~ She's so fucking cute, this is gonna be so fun." Gojo chipped, rolling his head before he placed it back in front of yours. "Let's give that cuck a show then," Gojo whispered, his words not being missed by Geto's ears, making his cock twitch. You whimpered when Gojo pressed his lips to yours, a hum from him vibrating throughout your lips as his hand fell back down on your hip once more.

Gojo maneuvered the two of you to be laying down against the length of the couch, one of Gojo's legs hanging off the side, his foot placed firmly on the ground as you chased his lips, your body staying firmly against his as you were now on top of him laying down. Geto licked his lips, adding a bit more pressure to his cock as he watched Gojo's hands caress your body, teasing the skin of your back underneath your shirt.

"Let's get this off, yeah?" He whispered against your lips, letting you sit up to remove your shirt. You nodded, your eyes finding Geto's for a moment which were content and full of lust, before they were back on Gojo. Gojo ran his hands up your exposed skin the higher and higher you dragged your shirt up your body until your black lacy bra was exposed to his hungry eyes, the shirt being tossed carelessly on the floor.

"Oh fuckkk." Gojo groaned as he continued to greedily rub his hands up and down your body while you placed your hands on his abdomen, your ass firmly on his crotch. "Knew your body was hot but you look even better like this." He praised, thrusting his hips up against yours, his ass leaving the couch cushions for a minute. You felt your face erupt in heat and looked away, squeezing your legs around Gojo's body to relieve some of the ache you felt between your thighs.

"What do you say, baby?" Geto's voice rang into your ears, making you look over at him while Gojo's eyes stayed on you. "He complimented you, what do you say?" He repeated, his hand now slowly rubbing over the bulge in his sweats, matching the tantalizing pace of Gojo's hips rubbing against yours. Your embarrassment only grew getting called out like that. Looking back down to Gojo, his eyes were open wide, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to speak.

"Thank you, Satoru." You replied, finding it hard to meet his eyes. Gojo grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss against your wrist. "No problem baby." He replied, before releasing your hand and turning his head to look at Geto. "She's so polite." He said, praising Geto for training you so well. Geto smiled in return, nodding knowingly. "She'll even thank you after she takes a load down her throat," Geto added, his cock twitching at the thought.

This made Gojo audibly groan, his head rolling back against the couch, messing up his pretty hair. "Fuck I wanna see that." He groaned, long and needy. "You wanna show me what Suguru is talking about baby?" Gojo smiled sweetly, rolling his hips in circles up against your cunt, making your eyes flutter. You nodded timidly, feeling your body get hit with another wave of arousal. Gojo's smile grew in size, his cute dimples poking his cheeks.

Geto watched with bated breath as you slid down his body, pressing your thighs together as you sat on your knees between his legs, working on his belt. "You gonna jerk off to this or what?" Came Gojo's voice, cutting through the arosual clouding Suguru's head. Suguru shook his head, opting to continue to just palm himself over his pants while he watched you pull Gojo's pants down. "Not yet, don't wanna cum till you start fucking her." He said, arousal heavy in his voice.

Gojo made a sound of approval, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before he looked back down to you. "Oh! Didn't realize you got that far." Gojo giggled, watching how you held his crumpled pants midway down his thighs, staring at his long, pretty cock, with a pink flushed, dripping head. Gojo wiggled his hips, making his cock sway in front of you. "You like it?" He asked, cockily. 

"It's so big." You whispered, laying down on your belly between his thighs as you stared at it in awe. "You think so, baby? 'S it prettier than Suguru's cock?" He teased, glancing over at Geto who shook his head in annoyance. Gojo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you wrapped your hand around the head of his cock, rubbing his pre-cum against your palm. "They're both pretty." You complimented, smiling up at him.

Gojo bit his lip and pinched your cheek, watching how you slightly winced as you dragged your hand down his cock, rubbing his precum down his length. "Guess I'll find out if 'ur tellin' the truth when Suguru gets his cock out later." Gojo teased, sliding his hand back from your cheek to rest on the back of your head. You glanced over at Suguru to make sure he was still doing okay, and you were met with your boyfriend looking the most around you'd ever seen him, the sight relaxing your nerves in an instant.

"Suck his cock baby, show him how good that throat feels." Geto encouraged, gripping the outline of his cock through his sweats and stroking. You nodded and brought your attention back to the hard cock in front of you, throbbing against your hand. "Yeah, what he said." Gojo chimed in, making you want to roll your eyes. Such a Satoru thing to say at a moment like this.

You gave Gojo a few more strokes before you leaned in, your breasts resting on his upper thighs just below his cock as you stuck your tongue out. You flattened your tongue on the underside of his cock and tapped the head against it, continuing to stroke him off. Gojo groaned, watching your tongue wipe over the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum there. 

His smile started to fade the longer you teased him, pure arousal taking over his body. His jaw fell open and his eyes fluttered in his head when you finally wrapped your lips around his cock, immediately finding a pace as you bobbed your head on him, taking more and more cock into your mouth with each thrust.

Gojo's fingers curled into your hair at the stimulation, his legs parting in tandem. "Oh fuckk." He groaned, his head rolling back against the cushion before he forced himself to look down at the show you were putting on for him. Your eyebrows furrowed when you took him into your throat, fighting back gags. "Ffffuck- tight fucking throat-" Gojo praised, his hips jerking against your face when your throat contracted around him. "Takin' it like a fucking champ." He added, nodding down at you.

If your mouth wasn't stuffed with cock, you would've smiled at his compliment. "Feels good huh?" Geto added, squeezing the base of his cock through his pants, trying to resist the urge to cum already without even touching his cock. Gojo nodded dumbly, his hand just following your movements with its place on the back of your head. "Uh-huh uh-huh, shit-" Gojo's abs clenched and his back arched forward when you took him completely into your throat and hummed, shaking your head back and forth.

"Ohmygod- fuck oh my god Suguru-" Gojo whined, his toes curling at the feeling of your warm throat. "Can't believe you waited so long to let me feel this, s-shes so fucking good- I'm gonna cum already-" Gojo whined, his body jerking and twitching against the couch. Geto nodded in agreement, his eyes locked on the spot where his cock and your mouth met. "Yeah, me neither." He responded, reaching his free hand up to rub a few fingers around his nipples, giving him some other stimulation that wasn't as intense as his cock.

Gojo's breathing was so choked and rapid, sounding like he just finished running a marathon, mixed with long groans and curses of your name. "Holy fuck baby, I'm really gonna cum-" He groaned, adding his other hand down to grab your head, placing both hands over your ears. "Can I fuck your throat? Just a little? Huh?" He begged, nodding at his own words. Gojo felt his balls tighten with the need for release, he wasn't going to last much longer.

You nodded around him, stilling your movements as you relinquished control. "Good fucking girl, show your boyfriend how good you take his best friend's load." His words went straight to Geto's cock, making him have to grip his base tighter. It was almost humiliating how much Geto was into this, his most craved fantasy was happening right in front of his eyes, and it was so arousing it was almost too much to handle. 

You relaxed your throat and let Gojo fuck his hips into your mouth, obscene squelching and moans echoing into the room as he did so. You were used to this kind of treatment. Geto was usually a little rougher, and his cock was thicker than Satory's, so taking Gojo's cock, despite the length, was fairly easy.

Gojo pursed his lips around his teeth and groaned obscenely, sounding like a porn star. "Ohhhh fuck 'm cumming baby, cumming- oh fuck-" Gojo's groans and whines got higher in pitch as he was pushed to the edge by your tight throat. Geto felt his whole body tingle from his head to his toes, his brain feeling fuzzy, body feeling warm. He was too enamored by the scene in front of him to notice the familiar sensation racking through his body.

Gojo held your head down on the base of his cock, lips flush to his abdomen as he groaned long and loud, body jerking and spasming, back arched, eyes rolling back in his head, all as he released his thick load down your throat. Geto choked on a moan as his body doubled over, his thighs snapping shut. His hand that was playing with his chest slammed down on the arm of the couch, his fingers gripping the fabric of it for support as he came in his pants, a dark wet patch spreading on his sweats under his hand.

You fought back the gags that wanted to escape as you swallowed everything Satoru gave you, not wanting to waste a drop. Even after Gojo had stopped emptying his balls, he kept you down on him, letting his cock just rest in your warm throat, before he pulled you off a few moments later, allowing you to catch your breath. Gojo grabbed his cock and gripped it hard at the base, relishing in the aftershocks, his cock still hard and ready for more.

"T-thank you Satoru." You whispered, voice a little hoarse from taking his cock in your throat. "Fuuuuck you were right Suguru, she really does thank you for takin' cock down her throat." Gojo laughed, looking over at his best friend. Gojo's eyebrows shot up in surprise when he noticed Geto's fist over his mouth, legs crossed over one another, the wet patch evident on his pants. "Ohhohooo~" Gojo cooed, peeking your interest and making you look over at him as well.

"Came in your pants jus watching me fuck your girl's throat? That's kinda perverted Suguru." Gojo teased, caressing the back of your neck with his other hand. "Suguru..." You whispered, feeling yourself grow wetter between your thighs at the thought of Geto cumming in his pants. You cursed yourself for missing such a sight. 

Geto stayed silent, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. "Hope you got some more in you because I'm about to fuck her now." Gojo teased, a malicious smile spreading across his face before he looked back to you, his expression softening. "How do you want it pretty? Want it from the back? You like to be manhandled? Hm?" You felt your face grow hot at his words. You looked over to Geto for help, Satoru watching your gaze.

"Want him to decide?" He added, his voice quieter. You kept your eyes on Suguru as you nodded, the corner of Suguru's smile peeking out from behind his fist. Your boyfriend uncrossed his legs and tilted his head against his hand. "You like it from the back, don't you baby?" Geto said, his smile warming you up all over again. You nodded in response, waiting for him to speak again. "Satoru." He said, looking at his best friend now.

"You can't cum inside her cunt, that's the only rule," Geto said firmly, making sure his words were heard loud and clear. Gojo pursed his lips together, pouting a bit. "Fiiiiiine. Do I have to use a condom?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Suguru only shrugged in response, leaning back against the couch as he began to pull his sweats down. "Up to her." He said, bringing Satoru's attention back to you.

"What's it gonna be sweetheart? You want me to wrap it up? Or you wanna feel my cock rubbin' inside you raw?" He asked, watching how you began to untie the string of your shorts. "I can't help but notice you made one option sound a little better than the other." You snorted, pulling your shorts down your legs, revealing your cute black panties that matched your bra.

Gojo giggled, grabbing your hips and placing your panty-clad clit on top of his bulge, making you rut your hips against him. "I might be a little biased." He said teasingly, his cock already dripping pre-cum again, smearing against the outside of your panties. "No condom it is then." You replied, making Gojo bring his hand into a fist and drag his arm down, saying a dramatic "Yesssss." To which you and Geto both shook your heads.

"Cmere then baby," Gojo said, his demeanor suddenly changing into a more serious one. He pulled you against him, your legs slotting together as your hands fell on his chest, your lips connecting with his. He moaned quietly into your mouth, rutting his hips against your tummy, getting it wet with his arousal. Geto licked his lips watching the two of you as he fully pulled his cock out of his sweats, dragging his hand down his length torturously slow, rubbing his first orgasm down his cock.

Geto felt a sudden shock to his guts when Gojo cracked his eyes open and looked at Geto through the corners of them teasingly, his eyes finding his before they dropped to his cock, then back up to his eyes. He kissed you more dramatically, opening his mouth more against yours so Geto could see your tongues tangling together sloppily, the spit being exchanged between them. Geto picked up the pace on his cock, feeling himself strain against his hand the longer they stared at each other.

Gojo looked back at you and separated from your lips, your expression fucked out and needy already just from a little kissing. "Let's get to the good stuff, yeah? Don't think your boyfriend can take much more." Gojo teased, making you look over to Geto, who was steadily dripping down his fingers, watching the two of you intently, how Gojo was holding you. "Looks like his cock is about to explode, right?" He whispered, making you nod and whimper in agreement. 

"You were right, it is pretty too. I see why you couldn't choose." Gojo added, making you whine. Gojo tapped your ass before he spoke again. "Alright, up so we can switch. Wanna see that ass up for me." He smiled, to which you nodded and scooted over, letting Satoru sit up so you could take his place, your body perched against the couch on all fours before you leaned the front half of your body down, leaving your ass up for Satoru's viewing pleasure.

Gojo rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, stroking his cock slowly. "Fuckk, that arch is crazy." He praised, feeling his mouth water. "You get to fuck this pussy every night?" Gojo asked, grabbing a handful of the fat of your ass and jiggling it. Geto smiled and felt himself throb again, fighting the urge to jerk himself off until he came. "Yeah, just wait till you see her pussy." Geto felt so proud showing you off like this, you were the perfect girl, and he was more than happy to share and show off just how perfect you were,

"Let's see that pussy then." He said, tucking his fingers under the band of your panties and slowly pulling them down. You wiggled your hips back against him as your ass was exposed, bit by bit. Your head was forced to the side from the position you were in, meaning you were forced to look at Geto. The perfect view of him watching you intently while stroking himself off made you throb around nothing, excited to watch him cum while you get fucked by someone else. 

"Oh Shit Suguru," Gojo whined, dragging your panties down to your knees. He brought both hands to your ass and pulled them apart, forcing the folds of your pussy to spread for him, strings of your wetness sticking to yourself. You could hear Gojo's breathing pick up just from watching you. You felt so needy feeling his thumbs spread you open so close to your cunt without touching you, you needed to feel something soon or you were going to lose your mind.

Just before you were about to beg, you felt your ass part further before you felt Gojo lick a fat stripe up the expanse of your cunt, making a moan rip from your lungs. A hand shot back and tangled in his soft hair, pressing his head against you. "Ffff-uck-" You whined, your eyes rolling back in your head. Your shins kicked up and your toes curled behind you as Gojo wasted no time in burring his face in your pussy and sticking his tongue into your tight hole, sucking up all the wetness there.

Geto was caught off guard just as much as you, his hand speeding up on himself as he watched Gojo shake his head back and forth against your pussy, his cock throbbing heavily between your legs, dripping pre-cum against the cushions as he ate you out like a man starved. You couldn't help but wiggle back on him when you felt his tongue lap out and lick at your clit, making you see stars behind your eyelids. 

You don't know why you were so surprised at how good he was with his tongue. He was the sloppiest eater you knew and could put away four large ice cream Sundays in 4 minutes, and god if it didn't translate into the bedroom. Gojo pulled back with a gasp, massaging your ass cheeks in his hands, the bottom half of his face already covered in wetness. "Holy shit you taste good baby. Almost got lost in there." He giggled. Your hand released from his hair and fell back down to the pillow under your head, both your arms wrapping around it to ground yourself.

"I could eat you out all fucking day, but I swear my dick feels like it's gonna burst. Need to be inside you right now. I can eat you out properly another time, 'm sure Suguru wouldn't mind that, would he?" Gojo asked cocikly, hitting the dart right on the mark. Geto didn't answer, just licked his lips and kept his eyes on yours, staring at your fucked out expression.

"Yeah, he won't mind," Gojo said, answering his own question. Gojo leaned up and scooted closer to you, pressing his cock between the crevice of your ass. "Don't think I'm gonna last long," Gojo said, tapping his cock against your ass. "But then... neither are you two, right?" The white-haired man smiled all knowingly. 

Gojo rubbed his cock against the underside of your cunt, his hot cock stimulating your swollen clit perfectly. "Don't think I forgot about her. She'll get some attention when I get inside you." Gojo whispered, rubbing his cock back and forth a few more times against your clit before he pulled back and lined himself up with your cunt. Suguru watched with bated breath as his best friend took a few deep breaths and bit his lip, his eyes locked on where the two of you were connected.

His jaw fell open with the two of yours when Gojo slowly pushed inside, feeling little resistance thanks to how wet you were. His fingers dug into the fat of your hip as his head fell back, a loud groan leaving his lips. "So tight, s-so tight fuck-," Gojo repeated as his cock was sucked in by your tight, warm walls, so much tighter than your throat, if it was even possible. 

"How's it feel baby?" Geto spoke, his voice hoarse and deep with his arousal. "N-need you to tell me how his cock feels inside you," Geto begged, stroking himself faster. Gojo choked on his own moans and breaths as he tried to calm himself down, stilling his hips flush against your ass as he tried not to blow his load prematurely. "Suguru, s-Suguru it's so deep. F-feel it in my tummy." You whined, placing your hand on your stomach.

Geto groaned and spread his legs, feeling his cock throb at your words. "Deeper than mine? Huh?" Geto didn't know if he wanted you to say yes or no, he just wanted you to talk to him, to tell him how it felt. You waited a moment before nodding, averting your eyes. The dark-haired man found his answer when he had to squeeze the base of his cock hard to prevent himself from cumming at that moment. 

Gojo half smiles through his arousal at your answer before he rolled his hips into yours, fucking his cock even deeper inside you if that was even possible. "You're twitching around me like crazy, you want me to move now?" Gojo asked, using his thumb to pull at your opening where his cock was currently inside. "Please, p-please move Satoru." You begged, doing your best to fuck your hips back against him in the position you were in.

Gojo smiled before he looked over at Geto, who looked about halfway to losing his mind from being so horny. "You like hearing your girlfriend beg for another man's cock?" He teased, getting into Geto's kink to rile him up more. Geto nodded, his other hand joining the mix to play with his balls. "Heh, I can't believe my best friend likes to get cucked, and I never knew till now." That was the last words Gojo said before he started driving his hips into yours like a madman.

Moan after moan spilled from your lips, tears welling up in your eyes from the intense pleasure. Gojo kept true to his word and started rubbing quick circles against your clit, the wetness being fucked out of you making the sensation stronger. Geto rolled his balls between his fingers and jerked himself off to match Gojo's pace, slowing down or pausing entirely when he felt like he was going to cum.

"S-suguru, suguru-" You cried, your words coming out desperate and choppy. Gojo pouted behind you, his cock fucking into you rougher. "Hey, that's not nice. You shouldn't cry another man's name when I'm fucking you." He pouted, angling his hips to drive his cock deeper inside you, pummeling your sweet with every thrust.

"He's right baby, I'm right here, I'm here, but you can say his name its okay. Want you to say his name." Geto encouraged, making a smile creep onto Gojo's face, his fingers rubbing back and forth faster along your clit. "Fuck- Satoru, t-toru its so deep, feels s- good." You whined, tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. 

Gojo felt his cock twitch, he cursed himself internally for being so weak for you. He just started fucking you and already just from a few thrusts and cries for your name, he already felt like cumming. "I know baby, can feel how deep you're taking me, feels so good for me too baby." He groaned, wincing when you squeezed your cunt around him, a loud moan coming out choked from his throat.

The loud 'plap' sounds echoing through the room only spurred him on more, making him fuck you harder, deeper, wanting to hear you cry louder. A ring of cum had started to form around the base of his dick and dripped down his balls from how wet you were. Gojo's fingers on your clit started to lose their rhythm, going slow, then fast, jerking all over the place. It was doing it for you, so you had no complaints, but you knew Gojo was close.

Gojo rolled his head back, his hip's rhythm getting sloppy as well. Geto watched his eyes flutter in his head. Gojo looked like he was panicking, trying to calm himself down. It was obvious he didn't want to stop yet, but your pussy was just too good. "I know." Geto chimed in, finding Gojo's eyes. "Her pussy is dangerous, makes you finish so fucking fast. 'Specially the first round." He nodded, his balls tightening with his release.

Gojo groaned at his words. "Yeah, she's s-squeezing me like a fucking vice, and it's so fucking warm, f-feel like my cock is melting." He cried, his words rushed and high-pitched. "G-god I'm gonna cum." He whimpered, his body fighting to stay upright. His hips slamming against your ass felt so good, only adding to the pleasure he was already giving you.

The men's conversation was blurring in your head, the only thing your brain was focused on was cumming on Satoru's cock. "You getting close baby? Gonna cum on Satoru?" Geto asked, his cock throbbing against his hand. You nodded at his words, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, legs pressed firmly together as Gojo fucked you up to your orgasm. "R-right there." You whined, your back arching against him.

"Let go, baby, let go." With Geto's encouraging words, your orgasm crashed over you. Gojo clenched his teeth together when your pussy squeezed around him even tighter than before, pulling a wonton moan from his lips. He almost forgot Geto's rule only seconds before he came. Hurriedly, he pulled out his cock and started jerking himself off, making sure he continued rubbing his fingers over your clit, working you through your orgasm.

Geto came at the same time, white ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and dripping down his fingers, his legs spreading further as his body sank against the couch, his eyes never once leaving the sight in front of him. Your shins crossed over one another as your body was wracked with tremors. Your orgasm hit you so hard you were seeing stars.

Gojo groaned through his high as he jerked himself off over your ass, thinner ropes of cum decorating your ass and back. He came so much, maybe even more than the time he came down your throat. He had your cunt trying to milk him that entire time for that. "Ohhhhhh- ffuuuck." Gojo groaned, tapping the head of his cock against your ass as he started to come down, rubbing his cum on your skin.

You let your arch fall as you fell onto your side against the sheets, your body jerking every now and then. You pressed your thighs together firmly, keeping pressure on your sensitive, still throbbing clit. Geto wasted no time in tucking his spent cock back in his ruined boxers and pulled up his pants, walking over to the couch in front of him.

Gojo rested his hands on your ass and thighs, rubbing them soothingly. Geto crouched down by the edge of the cough and grabbed your face in his hands, making you peel your eyes open. You smiled the instant you saw his face. Geto leaned in and pressed a long, sweet kiss to your lips before pulling away and wiping the sweat and baby hairs from your face. "Good girl baby, I love you so much. Thank you, you did so well." 

You let his words relax your body further as you melted into the cushions, Gojo's warm hands caressing you and easing you even more. "Aww..." Gojo pouted, making Geto look over to him. "I'm feelin' kinda left out, can I get a kiss too?" Gojo teased, pointing to his pink, swollen lips. Geto made a noise of disgust before he directed his attention back to you, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Oh, so jerking off while watching me fuck your girlfriend is okay, but a kiss is too much? It's hard out here." Gojo pouted, only making Geto shake his head harder. "Thanks for doing this, and thanks for not coming inside her," Geto said, keeping his eyes on your relaxed face as he spoke. Gojo smiled softly, watching him caress you. "Yeah yeah, you pervert, anytime." He responded, ruffling the other man's hair. 

[screampied]

sukuna never says “i love you.”

to him, the words are meaningless. he’s been alive for thousands and thousands of years, of course he knows what it means. he’s not stupid, but for some reason—every time it comes out of your little human mouth, his heart aches. you say it so sweetly with the cheekiest grin on your face, not a single care in the world. he hated it. three words, eight letters of pure rubbish. at least, that’s what he thinks to himself. for sukuna, he expresses his love in a different way.

physical touch. flicking your forehead, teasing you, saying things he’d never say to you while you were awake. that was his version of love, he didn’t need those stupid, stupid words. or did he?

“love you, ‘kuna,” you’d pepper another kiss against his cheek. he tchs, the audacity for you to do something so embarrassing. he never says it back but you know deep down he’s got to feel at least something in that cold heart of his. he just has to, after all you did steal his heart in a way. and he stole yours. your eyes always had a glinting sparkle whenever those words would come out and he hated it. his response to you saying you loved him would always be the same.

“yeah yeah,” he gruffs. or a simple, “i know..”

but— there’d be a time where he’d regret not saying it back. a cold, cruel time where it’s just you and him, no one else. except, it would really just be him.

sukuna had a hard time at expression his feelings. it’s not like he hated you—despite his rough, barbarous persona.

he didn’t hate you but he did. it was complicated. it was a struggle trying to put it into words. all he knew was that he loathed how soft you made him, he noticed his behavior would change around you overtime. sukuna’s voice was get more gentle, his shoulders would relax, and he’d always finding himself flicking your forehead for some strange reason. it’s annoying,

you’re annoying.

the feeling was love though, it had to be.

had to be,

so the moment comes where he regrets not saying it back.

it’s something he’d continuously beat himself up over for. because now, here you are, laid all out near the ground in his arms. all four of his arms held you in a tight, cradling embrace and he’s got an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. sukuna’s scarlet red irises were blown and fearfully dilated. his thin nostrils flared up and his slit brows contort in panic and confusion.

sukuna ryomen was scared.

“brat. get up.” he murmurs, three simple words was all he said to you. three simple words but you could barely even hear them.

all you heard was a brief inaudible mumble. you saw his lips moving but barely any sound came out. your body felt crushed, the pain was excruciating. your limbs, they felt like they were on fire. getting up was the last thing on your mind and you’ve probably sone the most careless thing imaginable.

you took a hit for sukuna, a deadly hit that was powerful enough to cost you your life. it’s funny though—all the talk of seeing your life flash before your eyes, and now, being snatched into the inevitable end, you were starting to really see it.

“get up,” he repeats, and this time, a single tear falls right onto your cheek. you meet sukuna’s gaze. the king of curses was a mere mess right before your eyes. he was like this for just you. teary eyed and sniffling, he can’t stand this pain.

you’re being held in his lap and not once does his eyes leave yours. sukuna takes a while to speak again and it’s as if he’s carefully thinking of what to say. time was precious right now, but he didn’t wanna think about anything. his focus was solely on you, his favorite little human.

“can you hear me? say something.”

“you .. you’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning too much, ‘kuna.” you hum, a weak finger stroking against his cheek.

archons, for whatever reason, that little comment brought a smile to his face. you were so annoying to him and yet, he wouldn’t wanna be in anyone else’s presence. everything hurt though,

your body felt scorchingly hot, your pulse remains to ring through your ears and you were wheezing a bit. “hey, hey,” he watches as you try to cling onto his hand. sukuna didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say - all he did do though, was hold you. it was the least thing he could do. your hand was so small compared to his, his long fingernails gently tickling against your skin.

he didn’t have it in him to scold you for trying to protect him. as fragile of a being you knew you were, you did it anyway. you risked your life for him. sukuna let his guard down and you jumped right in the way without a second thought for yourself. that’s what love was, his heart bleeds at the recent flashback before a shaky breath leaves his lips. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. you can’t leave me like this, please.”

“i’m not l- leaving.” you reply, your voice weak and frail. sukuna knew that was a lie. the more you stared at him, how the look of worry on his face paints and marinates his features, he was really scared. you were his everything, his breath of fresh air, maybe even his one true love. “never gonna leave you, sukuna.”

and sukuna lays there with you on his lap. you seem still - too still. right before his eyes, he watches as your body’s temp run cold, final breaths making its introduction. everything was going so fast. he barely had time to react before he realized,

you were gone.

“no,” he whispers under his breath. the demon was at a loss of words. the feeling in his chest, it was indescribable. painful, and tight as he watches the light leave your eyes, something within him leaves also. a part of him. you were drifting away and there was nothing he could do about it. “no.” he repeats against, feeling a dull ache run cold through his body. sukuna didn’t know what to do. he’s seeing red, but perhaps that wasn’t just bloodshed and anger. maybe, maybe it was the one true feeling he was denying all along,

love.

his breaths become heavy once he realizes you’re actually gone. no movement, no cheeky replies, no random “i love you ‘kuna’s,” no nothing. the tear in his heart was enough to make him see the light with you. it hurt horribly, a lump in his throat builds up before he starts to weep. one tear comes then multiple shortly follow, landing past the thin fabric of his sown kimono and onto your lifeless body.

sukuna hated you. he hated how you made him so soft, so vulnerable, so weak. you came into sukuna’s life, stole his heart, and also broke it.

as his eye twitches, his smile had already faded once you left him.

for the first time in centuries, sukuna was defeated. his enemy wasn’t a sorcerer, a curse, or even himself who he believed was his true worse enemy. sukuna ryomen was defeated by four simple letters, love. not only did you leave him in tears, but you also left him with an engagement ring inside his right palm.

he was far too late, he was gonna propose to you. that way, he’d build up the courage to say those stupid, stupid words. opening up his right hand, he stares at the ring he wanted to give you way earlier before this incident even happened. sukuna waited too long, he’d actually plan this for quite some time but again, he was scared.

with a defeated sigh, he surrenders, glancing at you for one last time. no smile on your face anymore but he just used his imagination. there you laid, peaceful, almost as if you were asleep. taking a deep breath, sukuna gives you his last gentle forehead flick before finally telling you the words he’s been longing to say for years.

“i … i love you too, brat. never leavin’ you either.”

[seventeenpins]

sniff

pairing: worst!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3k summary: You catch Logan with your stolen panties. content/warnings: pervy old man Logan, panty sniffing, masturbation with panties, mutual masturbation, a whole lot of fantasizing, kinda sub!Logan a/n: Still deep in the trenches here, folks. The Logan brainrot has gotten out of hand. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for making me worse ilu 😘

Logan was a bad man. He knew that. Had spent years knowing that.

Sure, he’d saved this universe, but he still had his demons.

The first time he’d crossed paths with you, you’d knocked him out. You’re a pretty little thing, all sweet and soft. There’s no way you’d ever want a man like him, all anger and failure, grey in his hair, face lined with time and exhaustion.

But you were kind, and charming. Made him smile every time you saw him in the halls or in the laundry room.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But when he sees you in your leggings and a tight little top, every curve on display, he just can’t help it. He can't tear his eyes away.

Your ass jiggles as you’re bent over the washer, tossing your dirty laundry in the machine haphazardly, and you don’t notice when you drop a lacy pair of panties.

He should tell you. He should really tell you. 

Instead, though, he moves closer to you. Makes up some lie about this machine having been on the fritz. Gives the washer a little smack, the metal of the machine twanging against the metal of his bones.

And, as you thank him and turn back, he snatches up your lacy panties and slips them into his pocket. 

“You have a good day, now, sweetheart,” he tells you, and you turn to face him, a bright smile on your face.

”You too, Logan! I’ll see you round.”

He makes a quick exit, cock already hardening, panties burning a hole in his pocket.

When he gets back to the apartment, he slams the door behind him hard enough to shake the doorframe. He slips into the bathroom, away (hopefully) from the prying ears of Wade and Al, double checking to make sure he has the lock latched securely. He thinks they’re out. He hopes they’re out. If they’re not out, they’d better not say shit if they hear him.

With a quick tug, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, letting his cock spring free from its confines. He slips the panties from his pocket and sighs. They’re barely more than a glorified shred of lace. He holds them up, examines them. Do you wear this style every day, a little thong like this, or is it only for special occasions? Maybe you were wearing them for someone else, some little boyfriend?

The thought enrages him. He knows it’s unfair, that your life is none of his business. Maybe you are dating someone. That’s fine. You’re young and pretty and deserve someone good. Someone better than a man like him.

But fuck he would take care of you right. Wouldn’t stop till you were shaking and crying, utterly fucked out and satisfied, covered in sweat, the slick of your release all over both of you.

With that thought, he brings the panties to his face.

He takes a deep sniff and groans.

He could smell them already, smell you, but it was different from a distance. With your panties in his face, he breathes deep, tries to take you in, all you, only you.

It’s dizzying, the scent of you. The smell of your pussy is intoxicating and he wants so much more. He darts his tongue out, licking at the crusty gusset. He groans as he tastes you. The panties had been worn days ago, but as he sucks at them, he makes them wet again, slippery.

He fists himself with one hand, painfully hard to the point he’s dripping, and with the other, holds your underwear up to his mouth, soaking the fabric.

Then, he wraps the wet panties around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

God, he hopes no one’s home. He tries to quiet the sounds coming out of him, but he simply can’t. The feeling of your panties choking his dick is incredible, even better than he’d hoped when he nabbed them. His breaths are coming out in pants and growls, and he feels more like an animal than he has in a long, long time.

“Fuck-” he grits, imagining all the things he’d like to do to you. He wants to taste you, straight from the source. Spread your pretty little pussy and spit, mixing saliva with your arousal. He wants to fold you over, shove your face into the pillow and ass in the air, all for him to smack and grope at. Spread your cheeks and thumb your asshole. Maybe you’ve never taken a cock in the ass before, maybe he can be your first.

His mind swims with every filthy thought he’s ever had about you. He wants, he wants, he wants—

He wants to bite down on your inner thighs, leave bruises on that soft, soft skin. Plunge three fingers into your glistening pussy and take.

Logan can still taste you on his lips. 

It’s with that thought, and one more slick tug, and he’s spilling into your panties.

There’s a lot. More than he would’ve expected. He keeps coming, the jerk of his hips punctuated with heavy breaths and growls, sweat dripping down his temples and brain blissfully blank from his exertions.

Fuck.

The post nut clarity starts to hit, slowly at first and then all at once.

FUCK.

He should not have done that. 

Stealing your panties? Really? God, he really was just a perverted old man. You could never know, he’d have to find a way to slip them back in your hamper the next time you met doing laundry.

And despite that, despite the shame and guilt and absolute self loathing, he brings the wadded ball of panties to his mouth and licks one last tentative time, tasting both of you together on the flimsy lace.

It tastes like heaven.

Gingerly, he tucks his dick back into his jeans. Glances at himself in the mirror, and fusses a little, straightening out his disheveled appearance.

After one more look over himself, ruined panties balled up in his hand, he unlocks the bathroom door and steps out. 

He exclaims when he sees you, smile on your face, reclined on the sofa next to Wade. Fuck these fucking walls had better be soundproof. FUCK.

”Peanut,” Wade sing-songs, “We have company! This little morsel from down the hall was just telling me how she’d run into you earlier today. She brought us some muffins.”

He puts undue emphasis on muffin in a way that makes Logan blush, just a little.

”Just had some bananas that were past their prime and I made too many. After I saw you earlier I thought I should drop some off as a thank you!”

“A thank you?” Logan asks, suddenly confused.

”Yeah, for helping with the washer!” You frown, surprised that he’d already forgotten.

Logan hesitates to make eye contact, instead only grunting vaguely in your direction with a curt nod.

He shuffles over to the kitchen and grabs himself a beer. Much to his chagrin, the muffins do smell good. 

He’s not sure if you notice that he’s trying to ignore you, but you still seem cheerful.

”Well,” Wade sighs, “I’d better get going. I have a hot date tonight and I will not be late. Again. By more than fifteen minutes.”

”Say hi to Vanessa from me,” you tell him, and right as he’s standing you turn to him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” You ask, and Wade points you towards the door Logan had just exited.

”Have at it,” he says, and then in a stage whisper tells you, “But if you die, I’m not to be held responsible. Peanut was in there for a while and I can tell you from experience, a wolverine-dump is frightening to behold, even if it’s just the aftermath.”

You snort a laugh and move towards the bathroom as Wade tugs a particularly hideous hat on top of his heinous toupee. “Play nice,” he mock-glares at Logan, “We want more friends in this building who bring us delicious, delicious baked goods.”

With that, he slips out of the apartment.

It’s then that Logan realizes–the panties are no longer in his hand. He’d dropped them. He’d fucking dropped them!

It’s so fucking stupid. So unbelievably fucking stupid. He’d dropped the panties when he saw you, startled out of his train of thought.

And left them on the floor of the bathroom.

”NO!” Logan calls, and tries to get to the door before you make it there, but he’s already moments too late.

As he dashes around the kitchen island and towards the bathroom door, you’ve already shut the door behind you. At the sound of his footsteps, the door swings back open, and you’re standing there, panties in hand.

He physically recoils and then stares, deer in headlights.

You look at the bunched up ball of underwear and back up at him.

“Logan?” you venture.

He glares at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You can see the tick of his jaw, the dart of his eyes.

“Are these mine?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Logan gives one sharp nod.

“You seem to have made a mess of them,” you muse, suddenly feeling very, very warm. You should be angry. Hell, you should be scared.

But he stands before you, still looking at the floor, looking to all the world like a bashful child who’s just been caught misbehaving.

He doesn’t respond with words, only grunts.

You take a step closer to him.

“Logan, look at me.”

He finally does. He’s not sure what he sees in your eyes, but it doesn’t look like fear or anger. Instead, it’s almost a hunger.

“First," you tell him, "You’re gonna clean up your mess,” You're suddenly more bold than you know yourself to be, aching with it. “And then you’re gonna show me, and you’re gonna do it all over again.”

“I’m sorry, what–”

You take another step towards him, close enough to touch him. As he’s about to say something else, you take the opportunity to shove the cum-drenched panties right in his open mouth, shutting him up instantly.

He stands there, unmoving, panties half-dangling out his mouth.

“Good boy.” You say, and his eyes widen, mouth agape and panties nearly slipping.

Of all the scenarios he’s played out, for months now, this was never one of them.

He’d never realized how much he can enjoy surprises. The hunger in your eyes—it’s delicious.

He regains a semblance of composure and you guide him backwards. He stumbles blindly till the backs of his knees hit the sofa. He collapses with a huff.

“Go on,” you encourage, “You like playing with my panties so much, you get to do it for me.”

He groans, puts a hand to his mouth, and sucks at the fabric. 

It’s still wet, and full – full – of his cum. 

He slurps at it, pulls them out of his mouth and stretches the panties wide. Licks all over it, tongue running along the gusset where he can still taste the two of you together.

It doesn’t matter that Wade could come back home, that Althea may already be home. It doesn’t matter that he’s mortified; at the very least, his dick doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. He’s getting hard again, refractory period already practically nonexistent. He’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t matter, either. 

All that matters is the panties in his mouth, and your eyes on him, slight smile tugging at your lips as you watch.

”Do you make a habit of this?” You ask, and it’s more curious than condemning.

Logan shakes his head. “Uh-uh,” it comes out muffled through the mouthful.

“Don’t make a habit of stealing my panties, or don’t make a habit of stealing anyone’s panties? For all I know, you’ve got some secret collection. Got a pair of Wade’s briefs in the back of your drawer?”

The blush that blooms is pretty, flushing all down his bared throat. You desperately want to touch him, but more than that, you want to tease him. Humiliate him. Call him a dirty old man and make him sweat, and then show him that you want him anyway. That you have been wanting him.

You just didn’t think he’d fall so easily for the bait of dropped panties.

“Suck em clean,” you tell him, and he makes a half-strangled moan, slurping loudly against them.

He works at them with his mouth. It could’ve been comical but instead he simply looks feral. He makes a lewd, wet sound, and pulls the panties out of his mouth, dragging them across his teeth, saving every last bit of the mix of cum and reconstituted pussy juice that had been soaking them.

You take them from his outstretched hand and sniff them yourself. You see the way his eyes widen again, but he’s restrained. He holds himself back, stays still.

“I’ve gotta say, you do put on a good show. You can keep these,” you smile, and toss them back at him, smacking him square in the face.

“But these-” you slip your thumbs up your skirt, the one you deliberately chose to wear just for this purpose. You hook the waistband of today’s panties and slip them down, stepping out of them and handing them to Logan.

“You’re gonna show me exactly how you touched yourself with those panties you stole.”

“Hey,” he huffs, “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not,” you cut in, “If you hadn’t stolen my panties, you wouldn’t be showing me just how dirty an old man you are.” You wink, “And I like it.”

“Watch who you’re callin’ old, sweetheart.”

“Logan, baby,” you croon, “You ain’t the one calling the shots here.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you take another step towards him and grab him by the belt buckle. He buffers, opening and closing his mouth several times, never taking his eyes from your face.

He watches, awed, as you undo the buckle, pop the button, pull down his zipper.

You grin when you see he isn’t wearing any underwear himself and, with a swift, deft movement, you reach into his jeans and slide out his cock.

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. He moans as your hand wraps around him, pumping gently. It’s far too little pressure. He wants more. He needs more.

As if reading his mind, you snatch your panties from his hand and wrap them around his cock.

He whines, immediately overwhelmed. He’d barely dared to notice them when you’d placed them in his hand. Now, he realizes just how absolutely soaked you are. The crotch of your panties, (another lacy pair), is slick with your arousal.

“Show me,” you tell him. “Show me-”

Reluctantly, he tightens the grip on his cock and starts jerking himself. 

Against his own will, a ragged moan slips out. It makes your body hot and your pussy even wetter. You sit back on the sofa and spread your legs, letting your hand rest on your needy pussy.

Logan notices and, encouraged, wraps his fist tighter around his cock and strokes himself faster, his hips moving rhythmically.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, dipping two fingertips into your slick heat and swirling the arousal around your clit.

Little moans start to escape you, egged on but his ragged breathing. He starts muttering, worn and desperate; “Fuck, fuck, wanna taste that pussy. Eat you right. Smells so good, tastes so good, wanna make you cum on my tongue, hold you down, fuck you through it–”

The touch of your fingertips is exquisite. You’ve masturbated to the thought of him a lot. More than you’d prefer to admit. But seeing him like this, undone and aching, it hits you all the more. 

You sink into the fantasy. “Want you, Logan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gettin’ close now,” he warns. He should be embarrassed at the speed he's reaching his peak, but he's so drunk on sensation he simply cannot find it in himself to care.

You nod, and adjust the pressure on your clit.

“Wait for me,” you tell him. He groans, but nods. “Nearly there,” you assure.

You press tight circles around your clit working yourself up, closer and closer and closer to that high–

“Fuck,” you shout, suddenly overwhelmed by it, “Fuck, I’m— I’m coming. Show me, Lo, show me–”

You tip over the edge, cunt pulsing hungrily. You wish you’d had something inside you. Wish you’d had him inside you.

He lets out a ragged groan, followed by curses, and the most explosive ejaculation you’ve ever seen. The head of his cock is buried in your panties and he fills them, but his cum shoots out of the holes of the lace, spraying his spend across the floor and towards you. A single drop hits your cheek, and you nearly laugh, but the sound he makes–something primal and animalistic–sends another pulse through you and suddenly you’re coming again, untouched.

It takes a while to come down.

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his temples. Reality absolutely living up to the fantasy.

When you both catch your breath, you smile, sated and tired. You reach out a hand and, hesitantly, he hands you the ruined panties.

Mouth agape, he watches as you run a finger through the cum and dip it in your mouth, humming a pleased affirmation. Then, you step into the cum-drenched underwear and put them on.

He stares at you dumbfounded, burning with so many thoughts that he can’t pinpoint a single one.

“Next time,” you smile, standing up and pressing an unexpected kiss to his cheek. “You can just ask.”

You wink, half dazed yourself, barely able to believe everything had turned out exactly as you’d orchestrated it.

“I’m in Apartment 8,” you tell him, and then you’ve turned on your heel and stepped out the door.

Logan stands there, bewildered. He fingers the damp panties he still has in his pocket, and listens as your footsteps echo through the hallway.

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold you in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

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