#kisses his undercut

[togament]

Togame's undercut 😩🤌🏻🤌🏻

oh I have thoughts about his damn haircut 🥵 tysvm anon

a/n: i headcanon togame with an extremely sensitive nape. like, achilles heel type shit. he first discovers this weakness with you.

spicy stuff under the cut. 18+ stuff. MDNI.

‪♡

first time you’ve ever heard togame giggle was when you ran your fingers up his nape to the back of his head, getting a feel of his new cut.

-

“what d’you think, baby?” he asks, looking down at you so lovingly with his hands clasped around your waist. he gently sways you while he’s waiting for an answer. he just got his haircut and— fuck. if he looked good then, you’re ready to devour him right now.

might as well.

“lookin’ like a fucking snack is what I think,” you purr, eyelids heavy with need as you snake your arms around his shoulders with one hand grazing his fresh cut. you swear you can feel his hand grope your ass as you do, pulling you flush to him. his clothed bulge already pressing against your heat. he was always fast with it.

“hm. someone’s hungry,” he teases, pressing kisses along your cheek, leading down towards your jawline.

“t-that’s rich coming from you,” you manage to stutter, rolling your hips against his to regain the upper hand. little shit- you can feel him smirking against your skin.

his face is hidden in the space below your neck and he softly giggles before it dies down into a soft growl, playfully dragging his teeth along your skin.

“tryna eat me, doll?” he responds playfully. his hands are behind your thighs now, effortlessly hoisting you with your legs now wrapped around his waist. you were about to respond with some clever quip before your back hits the wall behind you gently his larger hand further softening the blow. you can feel him gently rut his hardness up into you.

“why won’t you take a bite.”

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

-

a/n: snuck in a sleep token reference lol kisses u if u get it

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

THE BACK OF HIS HEAD IS SO CUTE TO ME!!!!! NOBODY LOOK AT ME!!!!! AAAAAAAA (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) ♡

[crehador]

HI???

[daybreakrising]

v.autrin past ver. -- v.autrin current ver.

so i posted the one on the right last night but i was then compelled to tweak it to show v.autrin's previous look when he was originally alive, including the original colour of his eyes (hazel).

looking at it in both styles... i am loving the red hair. an excellent decision.

[kiwiwinjindouche]

I'm very slowly trying to catch up with everything, but I've been in a Dragon Age hole the past couple of months

Anyway, I've drawn the crazy inventor cuz it's been so long and it felt nice doing so

I love to see the improvement over time, even with more recent drawings (tho it's not really big)

[yandereshingeki]

CABIN EREN!!! NEURON ACTIVATION….. my favorite eren <3 my beloved my baby my bookie honey bunches of oats my cinnamon pumpkin

[milkochaa]

my obsession with tim drake came forth and tripled bc of a fic I've read at fucking 2am in the morning and I cannot stop,, would this be worse than my leon kennedy hyper fixation? It's possible bc I was down bad for tim since I was 14 or 15, u cannot take this away from me from my cold, dead fucking hands bro

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugh I have the biggest damn crush ever right now!!!

[litt1e-prince]

not tHE MOST EXCITING IMAGE BUT IDC IM DRAWING MONKEYS ATM- but i woke up and remembered its pride month happy gay

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, mıssionary, praise, brēeding, petnames, mdni.

nanami who always finds himself in your sheets and between your legs after a long day at work.

“think i want a baby, ‘ken.”

and he took those six simple words personally. nanami’s giving you slow, languid strokes, rolling his hips against yours. he groans at your nails clawing all down his back. as you briefly meet his gaze, you’re met with the most kindest, fawn eyes. all you saw in them were nothing but pools of love with a sprinkle of lust. “oh,” he huskily grunts, hearing the sloshing wet stretch deep into your cunt. he’s stunned for a bit before going deep into imagination. the thought of making your cute tummy all swollen and rounded, it makes him gnaw on his lip like candy.

“my love,” he swallows thickly, a familiar lump forming into the back of his throat. nanami leans into you, his rhythm growing more and more sloppy. you’re jerking back, an ankle of yours sliding down the red lines of his back and he grunts. “c- careful now, might give you more than just one.” and he could have came right then and there—all from relishing in your beauty. he’s never laid his eyes upon anything more pretty.

your knees then get righteously shoved up to your chest. soft, browned eyes flicker at the valley between your breasts before glancing back toward your shimmery spit-slicked lips. you moan, tossing your arms over his shoulders. “i missed my girls,” he groans, stuffing his face between your chest for a moment. your breath immensely hitches at the feeling up him licking a single stripe, still deeply plummeting such inches in and out of your weeping cunt. “they missed me too,” he purrs in a raspy coo, speaking to your tits, and that’s when he latches his plump lips against your perky nipple for a short second. “m-mh.”

the air felt hot — humid, feverish even with each breeze that passes. as warm, kinetic bodies clash against each other at individual hyper strokes, he pries himself off of you. nanami’s jaw tightens so much from your soddened grip that it almost aches. “sweetheart,” he hisses, peering his eyes down to see the milky white ring already coating around his base. it’s probably been hours, hours of you prettily sprawled out for him with your legs open. docile, tawny irises lovingly gaze into you as a thumb of yours strum down his neatly ruffled undercut. “f- fuck, i want you so bad. missed my girl. missed my pussy.”

“she’s missed you too ‘ken,” you pull him into a hot kiss, tasting the mint that lingers on his breath. and as his thrusts grew more sloppy, you whine, feeling his jutting cock kiss against your most sweetest spots. your heart flutters, slithering its way around his waist in a secure lock. “fuck me kento, d- don’t stop, pleaseee.”

“never gonna stop for you, my love,” he huffs, chest heaving in and out. the more he stares at you, the more he falls in love.

through glossed eyes that shimmer with such infatuation—he’s taking in your beauty, your fervor.

nanami loves more than anything to just gawk at you, watching as your eyes droop, your neck crane, and even the way your brows crease into a furrow due to such rapturing pleasure. only he could make you feel this way—you and him both knew that. nobody knew your body like the back of their hand except nanami. your body was his personal canvas, he’s always loved to decorate it and paint it with various, chaste kisses.

to him, you were art. he’s hitting you deep, blurbs and blurbs of whimpers dragging out of your throat until it sounds like inaudible meaningless babbles. so pretty,

repeatedly, the base of his cock perfectly hits against there, leaving you with your jaw hanging open and your entire body being stuck into a limited dimwitted state. he fucks you silly every time, you whimper as a lightening pulse from his cock twitches inside of you, plugging you full.

over and over and over,

nanami blows into your mouth, and you hear a throaty chuckle before he presses yet another wet kiss against your lips. “wanna see you nice ‘n plump s-so bad. gonna give you triplets, my sweet.” and you’re just stupefied, barely a single thought was stored up into your empty, vacant brain. nanami sucks against your bottom lip, still steadily rocking his way into your sloppy cunt. you feel the juncture of his hips mercilessly thrust its way into you raw and you gasp. “right . . here?”

pleasure overtakes you so good that you barely even noticed he was talking to you. you’re too busy moaning your head off and a soft smile pierces against both sides of his lips. a few faint dimples poke against his skin before he grabs your chin. “sweetheaaaart, ‘m talkin’ to you, hey,” and once your eyes meet his mid-thrust, his heart swarms up with love and desire. “there we go. atta girl, yeah. ‘s this spot? this feel good?”

“y- yes,” you whimper, nodding eagerly. he was so big and thick, the prolongated stretch had you drooling. nanami glances at your hand. gingerly bringing it toward his lips, he kisses it, giving it a tender mwah. “kento, ‘m gonna cum a-again.”

“i know, pretty,” he groans, grabbing onto your hand. giving it a firm squeeze. you do the same, interlocking a bundle of fingers with his. his grip was gentle and warm, frantic heartbeat haphazardly picking up speed the more you get a feel of his familiar touch once more. nanami’s always slow with you,

he doesn’t wanna rush this — he hadn’t dreamt of it. already feeling you tighten around him, he invades a strip of your sensitive neck with a plethora of passionate, amorous kisses. “you always taste the same,” and you moan, sobbing cunt gripping down on him so good that it whimpers out a pitchy squelch of its own. his lolled twitching tongue licks against the edge of your shoulder blade once more and your back arches in ecstasy.

he’s never been more in love, with your body arching up backwards at his sweet, sweet hits, you were so close to becoming undone. every pivot of nanami’s hips snap you back to reality before you whine out a needy mewl, tangled digits combing through his unkempt, blond strands. “kento, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“together, my l-love,” his voice falters, and his adam’s apple starts to bob. each delicious thrust of his collapses into your body in such mirroring sync. the rapid, frenzied movements were in complete harmony and beads of running sweat sticks against each skin. nanami gruffly groans, preparing to get milked again, you always did it so so well. squeezing his eyes shut, both broad hands cling onto your hips as he grinds against your core. “c’mon, make a mess on me. ‘m gonna clean you up, promise. give it to me, please.”

your moans were so harmonic, each sound that left your throat coming out to be more elongated. with his cock pounding in and out, he starts to slow his pace down — seeping his teeth into your tender collarbone softly. sharp tips of your fingernails continue to paw at the beefiness of his biceps before within seconds, it happens.

with your lips forming into a lewd circular shape, you’re creaming all down his thickset of a shaft. “kentoooo,” you whine out, feeling your soaked walls clench all around him. he holds you tight, allowing you to form into a puddled mess before he shortly follows. nanami groans, tossing his head forward before a translucent ring bubbles around his heavy base. it comes out in oozing spurts, hot cum pouring into your womb raw.

“ngh, always have me bein’ such a mess for you,” he grunts, pretty arched brows curling up together. nanami sucks at the air, witnessing as your legs grow numb, gluing against his skin. “ah, ‘s gonna be a lot. hold still ‘n take it. take it like a good girl,” and he leans into you, cupping the curvature of your face. “make me proud, baby. thaaaaat’s it. eyes on me, eyes on kento.”

nanami feels a wave of drowsiness dawn over him as he stills himself inside of you. he’s panting right with you, a thumb hooks a strand of hair back toward your face. a school of butterflies flutter inside of you as he’s still dumping a sticky load of velvety thin ropes into your greedy pussy. it’s deeply spewing down alongside of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. “i- i love you ‘ken.”

“i love you more,” he whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face. he hums at the tiny pout that’s displayed on your lips. you’re underneath him, succumbing into such an orgasmic state that you could barely keep your lashes open. nanami’s not moving anymore but he’s still buried balls deep. a big clammy hand ghosts over your tummy before he nips at your chin. “you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy,” and with a final kiss, you feel him slowly lifting up your leg, tossing it over his shoulder.

and as you gasp, watching him switch positions— nanami then pulls out a wedding ring, sliding it over your bare finger. “but you’d be an even prettier wife.”

[slvttyplum]

rubbing on satoru’s undercut while he’s eating it or deep inside you… walk with me, you have to see the vision. 

when he’s not wearing his blindfold, his hair just falls, and it’s so fucking hot, but what’s even hotter is when he’s swirling his tongue around your folds and clit and your hand slides under his hair and touches his undercut. 

he loves that shit. the first time you did it, it sends chills then tingles down his spine, and his dick stood up, it was like a sensory thing, and he liked it so much, he felt like a dog. 

the only thing he needed was a “good boy” to go with it, and he’ll be living til one hundred. 

it was one of those things that only you did. before he met you and had relationships and hook-ups, no one ever touched his undercut; it’s almost like it wasn’t there, but with you, it was always there. 

whenever he went in for a kiss you’ll place your hand right there, while he was eating your pussy, it was right there, while he was laying on top of you, it was right there. 

something he barely paid attention to because it wasn’t acknowledged was something he thought about all the time because you touched and rubbed it all the time. 

any time he was missing you, he would always slide his hand under his hair and rub his undercut, and your pretty face would come to mind with all the memories of your hand on it. 

there was something so sensational about you rubbing on his undercut and your hands sliding down to his back. as much as it turned him on it always brought him comfort over time. 

even while sucking on your breast, his tongue swirling on your areola, his hands down your pants, and his fingers pumping inside of you, his eyes would flutter shut from how good it felt. 

or when he was deep inside you and his tip making contact with your sweet spot every time as he moaned and grunted in your ear as your walls clamped on all sides of his length, if your hand grazed his undercut he would cum. 

it’s like you had him under your spell. 

[satoruoo]

"you're doing it wrong, baby."

the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.

"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."

in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.

hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.

you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.

his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.

you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.

"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"

another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.

you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.

you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.

"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.

he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.

"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.

satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"

"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.

there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.

you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.

he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.

you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.

"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.

(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)

satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.

"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.

"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."

you were going to be the death of him.

tagging: @sad-darksoul

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[pseudowho]

"Kento...can I...can I paint you?"

Kento glanced back over his shoulder, sleepy, to where you sat massaging knots out of his back. He didn't know why he'd bothered perusing his shelves beforehand; your hands had moulded and made him heavy, and he sunk, unbidden, his book forgotten and his eyelids made of lead, groaning in bliss.

Your eyes traced Kento's back...his arms...his hands. All ripped and reformed, broken and made stronger, the scars (both old and new), criss-crossing him, his life-story turned roadmap.

At some points, Kento's body seemed as though it would last centuries and end up in a museum somewhere, with futuristic admirers who did not know him as you did. At other points, he was just a porcelain man, full of cracks, to be handled with care lest he break.

Kento hummed; a cover-all rumble, unsure.

"...paint me?" He teased, a coy half-smile on the corner of his mouth. "Like one of your French girls?"

You laughed, kissing his shoulder blades, still stroking those seams of pink flesh with your fingertips. He shuddered, the hairs on the base of his undercut standing on end.

"Not quite...do you trust me?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Then just...close your eyes."

Kento huffed through his nose, leaning forwards on his elbows and clasped calloused hands. He heard you rattling around behind him, the tap running, the soft dompf of you resettling on the sofa. More rattling, and your quiet voice.

"Stay still..."

Kento jumped, shivering as the tip of a fine, wet brush licked at the skin on his shoulder blade. He hummed again, dubious.

"Oh...you meant paint me."

"Semantics."

"Bless you."

You laughed at his gentle idiocy. "Keep still."

In truth, as your brush traced idle patterns over his shoulder, his arm, and his hand, Kento didn't need to be told to keep his eyes closed even once. He meant it when he said he trusted you; and he meant it when your presence rocked him to sleep. Time lost meaning as he dozed, sat like The Thinker as you finally removed your brush from his hand.

"There. All done."

Kento opened his eyes...to art.

Patches of the back of his hand had been brushed matte with a soft jade green, fading out against peach flesh. Through the jade, where pink seams had once scored the skin, they now ran golden, liquid beauty joining the edges of his pain and history. And it was...lovely.

Kento swallowed thickly, laid bare beneath your eyes. He gently flexed his hand, seeing how the green and gold flexed with him, held together by your very own repairs. He tracked more and more patches up his forearm, his bicep, over his shoulder...

Kento was quiet, stoic, vulnerable. He whispered, as you took lamplit photos of your work. "I adore you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Christmas had come and gone, and still, Kento did not allow you to touch him as he once did.

The air between you was as taut as the flesh of his left side. You washed the dishes, and he dried, kept company only by the hush of the taps and clink of the plates. Kento reached for a mug with his left hand, and, numb-fingered, dropped it with a spitting curse, to where it shattered beyond repair around your feet.

Barefoot, and pausing with an oh!, you lifted your foot as if to move, and Kento berated you, growling, snapping.

"Stay where you are."

"Kento, it's alright, I'll get it--"

"No. It's my mess. My fault. Sit down."

"Really, it's fine--" Your words cut off with a squeak, as one strong arm looped around your waist. Kento grunted as he lifted you out of the shards with ease, to his body, only to drop you to safety the moment your hands began to brush his bare chest.

"Sit down." Kento rumbled, dark and sullen, his one good eye glowering at you beside the patch. You prickled, rejected. You refused to sit. Watching Kento, as he finished vacuuming, your eyes drifted without thought between him, and your paint set in the chest beneath the kitchen cabinet.

On his way over to the sofa, Kento spotted you, and scoffed, hissing with pain as he dropped himself to sit. He sneered, nasty.

"Sorry, my love. Not enough gold in that box to repair me."

You gritted your teeth, your mouth twisted in disgust, tears in your eyes. You pushed your chair away in a tearful rage, and padded over to Kento, fast, determined.

The briefest flicker of alarm crossed his half-burned face as you straddled him, trapping him to the sofa with a hand on each cheek. You spat, forcing him to see you, gripping him down as he writhed to get away.

"Then I'll break into palaces. I'll rob museums. I'll be a thief in the night. Because they don't deserve it, not like you do."

Kento cursed at you, twisting like a rat in a trap, and you held on tighter, sick of being pushed away, and you forced the words out of you as tears spilled over to drop onto his chest.

"And if there's not enough gold there then I'll melt myself down, but you don't need gold because you're not broken--"

"--get off me-- let me go--"

"No." You cried, looping your arms around his neck, your core pressed to his. The air stilled, his rejection rejected.

You panted, your shoulders heaving, weeping into his neck. Kento and you sat this way in silence, the tap still running and forgotten, your sniffles muffled into his neck. You felt him soften, his hands coming to rest on your hips, stroking you.

Kento's voice was thick, agonised. "You...deserve someone whole."

"I don't want them. They're nothing to me. It's you, or no-one."

Kento's teeth bared, his face stinging as it crumpled, salty tears washing away the grief. He gripped onto you, the fracture not breaking under stress; the bond, golden.

And when you finally did paint him, how he shone.

[icepip]

"fuck," yuji groans, head falling back against the couch as you roll your hips just right. "i'm — haahh — not g'nna last if you do that again."

his fingers dig into your skin, sure to leave bruises with how desperately he's gripping at you. despite his words, he doesn't want you to stop, the feeling of your tight pussy around him making his head spin and his cock ache. he wants everything and anything that you'll give him.

your hands rest on his chest as you steady yourself to rise up on his leaking dick before sliding back down. he's thick, and the stretch burns so good when you're on top of him like this. bigger — practically in your lungs as you pant and chase your oncoming orgasm.

as his swollen tip keeps nudging against that gummy spot, a hand snakes up to grab the back of his head. fingers threading through his undercut, you pull him forward to share a sloppy kiss. neither of you are able to properly move your lips, mostly just breathing heavily into each other's mouths as he bucks his hips into you.

yuji whines as you squeeze around him, his head hanging forward and mouth attaching to your collarbone. it's so much, too much, but he needs it — craves it.

"gonna-" he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. "fuck, baby, gonna cum, i'm gonna cum."

his hips still and his grip on you tightens when he reaches his climax, thick cum spurting from his tip and coating your walls. ever since you let him finish inside, he's never done anything else, claiming that nothing could ever feel as good as your cunt milking his cock.

you follow soon after, his orgasm tipping you over the edge as well. yuji hisses at the slight overstimulation on his spent cock, but helps you ride it out, his thumb slipping to rub at your neglected clit until you jump at the touch.

but he doesn't pull out. despite the exhaustion settling into your bones, you both know that you're not done yet.

[yuujispinkhair]

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Lots of fluff. Minors don't interact. Divider @/cafekitsune

Just cuddling in bed with modern!boyfie Sukuna. It's late at night, and you're both sleepy, but the dim indirect lighting is still on, bathing the bedroom in a soft, warm light. Sukuna is only in his black boxer briefs, and you wear panties and one of Sukuna's shirts with no bra beneath. The two of you are entangled in a warm embrace, cuddling and sharing tender, deep kisses. Everything feels so warm and cozy and a bit hazy because of how sleepy you are.

Your hands travel lazily over Sukuna's gorgeous body, caressing his broad back and his biceps. Just a light touch of your fingers to his firm muscles and tattooed skin because you love to be gentle with your bad boy. And you feel Sukuna's hands on your body, too. Slipping under your (his) shirt, caressing your waist with a matching tenderness. Your bad boy, who can be so rough with everyone else but who is so gentle with you, so soft only for his girl.

You feel sleepy but so happy with your boyfriend so close to you, his tall, strong body making you feel safe, his lips, which can say such rude things to others, moving so gently against yours and murmuring sweet nothings against your skin.

Those slow, deep kisses while your bodies are pressed against each other like that could easily lead to sex. But tonight, you both just enjoy this closeness, the intimacy of sharing those tender cuddles before falling asleep. Sweet, secret moments shared between the two of you. Moments that Sukuna would never share with anyone else. This side of him is only for you.

You only stop kissing when you are both too tired to continue. Your eyes fall shut, your breathing calms down. And Sukuna snuggles against you, lying half on top of you, resting some of his weight on you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him and caressing his tattooed skin.

You can feel him smile against your skin, where his face is buried in the crook of your neck. A soft, contented hum is heard when you scratch his undercut. You smile sleepily and turn your face to kiss the top of Sukuna's pink hair, overcome with how much you love him and how gently you want to treat him. Your feelings for him are evident in how tender you sound when you whisper,

"I love you, Kuna."

Sukuna's happy sigh, followed by a murmured "I love you too, princess," in that sexy, sleepy voice, is the last thing you hear before drifting off to a peaceful slumber.