「 can you keep my secret ？」

satoru gojo had been your best friend for years.

years that became inside jokes, shared playlists, late-night diner runs, and an entire shared google drive folder dedicated exclusively to digimon lore, rare cards, and that one powerpoint presentation you two made at 3 in the morning explaining why each of your favorite digimons was the better one. he was the messy blue-eyed disaster of a nerd who stole your food, called you at unreasonable hours to debate whether digimon adventure 02 was peak or mid, and somehow always knew when you needed company without asking.

he was your best friend.

he was also, inconveniently, the most attractive man you had ever seen in real life. even though you knew you shouldn’t think of him that way. six-foot-something of white hair, ridiculously long legs, and a body that looked like it had been designed by someone who hated the concept of subtlety. you had trained yourself not to notice. mostly.

you had a boyfriend. a… perfectly decent, normal boyfriend who did not own a single digimon card and who thought “agumon” was a brand of energy drink. things were fine. fine was good. fine was safe. fine was… boring.

you hadn’t even been together for that long and you were already thinking about breaking up. more than the usual.

which was why the accident felt like the universe personally deciding to fuck with you.

your phone buzzed twice in a row while you were half-dressed on your bed, having just stepped out of the shower.

one text from your boyfriend.

baby ♥︎ : babe. you home? miss you. send me something cute 👀

and one from Satoru, sent thirty seconds earlier.

satoru : yo send me that screenshot of the digivolution chart we were talking about earlier i need it for smth

you were still damp, towel discarded somewhere on the floor, and your brain was still stuck on the post-shower haze of a very steaming hot shower. you opened the camera roll, selected the most recent photos—ones you had taken for your boyfriend last week and never sent, probably forgot or got distracted—and hit send on the first chat that popped up.

then you switched to the other chat and attached the digimon screenshot.

you hit send on both without double-checking.

two minutes later you realized the mess you made.

baby ♥︎ : babe i don’t play digimon baby ♥︎ : …is this a bit?

and then, almost simultaneously at the same time you got a bombardment of messages.

satoru : . satoru : … satoru : what satoru : the satoru : fuck

you stared at your phone. the blood drained from your face so fast you got lightheaded and had to sit down. you scrambled to open the right chat, saw the three images you had just sent him—sexy lighting all dim and shit, fully nude, one of them with your hand between your legs—and your soul left your body.

you : OH MY GOD you : SATORU you : THAT WAS NOT FOR YOU you : DELETE THEM RIGHT NOW

his typing bubble appeared. then disappeared. then appeared again. then disappeared. appeared again.

satoru : i satoru : cannot satoru : unsee that satoru : i’m so serious right now i’m forgetting my morals

you buried your face in your pillow and screamed into it. your boyfriend was still messaging, confused and slightly offended about digimon, and you hastily sent him a “sorry wrong chat lol” and then made up for it with the pictures initially meant for him. h seemed to buy it. small mercies.

then you went back to the bigger fish you needed to fry. a fish named satoru.

you : i’m so sorry. i was texting my bf at the same time and i totally mixed the chats up. please just delete them. i’m dying.

there was a long pause. he didn’t text anything. just the read receipt.

satoru : deleted satoru : …sort of satoru : i can’t get them out of my head though .. satoru : also satoru : you look really fucking good

you should have left it there. should have just laughed it off—even though that isn’t quite possible given the humiliation— you should’ve just changed the subject to digimon or something else that would get him to nerd out, and never spoken of this again.

you had a boyfriend. satoru was your best friend. the two of you had shared a bed platonically more times than you could count during sleepovers and post-exam crash sessions. crossing that line was a terrible idea.

your body did not care. fuck, your body didn’t give a shit.

heat pooled low in your stomach the second you read those last four words. you shifted on the bed, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were still naked under the sheets.

you : satoru you : don’t say shit.

satoru : i’m trying not to satoru : i really am satoru : but you just sent me these crazy fucking pics and i can’t get them out of my head so i’m sitting here in my sweats with a problem

you bit your lip. again every rational thought, you found yourself typing. you shouldn’t… ah, fuck it.

you : …what kind of problem

the reply to that came almost immediately. a photo.

it was dimly lit, taken from above. satoru’s long legs stretched out on his bed, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. the outline of his cock was definitely there—thick, heavy, and already hard enough that the fabric was strained tented. the head was clearly defined, a dark shadow against the soft gray material, and it looked… big. bigger than you had ever let yourself imagine.

your mouth went dry.

you : shit.

satoru : yeah satoru : that’s what you did to me satoru : in like 30 secs

you should have stopped. you knew you should have stopped. and instead you stared at the photo for a long time, pulse thudding between your legs, fingers flying on the keyboard.

you : you know i sent those on accident. you : but you’ve already seen it, so.

satoru : so… satoru : ?

you : so you : maybe you : you should show more than just the outline

there was a beat of silence that felt like it lasted a year. because for those few seconds, he was contemplating whether he wanted to be a total piece of shit and aid and abet in your infidelity.

then another photo arrived.

this one was way clearer. he’d pushed the waistband of his sweats down just enough to free himself. his cock was flushed dark at the tip, thick and heavy against his lower stomach, a vein running along the underside. he was bigger than your boyfriend. noticeably. your thighs pressed together on instinct. you were already soaked at the sight of it.

you’d never seen a dick this pretty before. how is his dick pretty?

satoru : your turn satoru : if you want satoru : no pressure obv satoru : but fuck i really hope you want to

you hesitated for exactly three seconds before you flipped the camera around. you were still naked. your skin was warm from the heat of the shower. you took a photo lying on your back, one knee bent, the other leg slightly open so he could see the wetness already gathering between your thighs.

you snapped a shameless picture and sent it.

satoru : jesus fucking christ satoru : you’re soaked satoru : is that for me?

you : it shouldn’t be. you : i have a bf.

satoru : i know satoru : and i feel like a piece of shit satoru : but i also can’t stop looking at you satoru : and i really want to know what you’d sound like if i was the one making you that wet

your fingers drifted lower almost on their own. you took another photo—this time with two fingers sliding through your folds, shiny with how turned on you were—and sent it before you could talk yourself out of it. before you could make a decision that isn’t going to totally fuck up your relationship. but… fuck it, right? your relationship’s in the dumps anyway.

you : i shouldn’t be doing this. you : you’re my best friend. you : i mean shit we practically grew up together

satoru : and you’ve been looking at me like that for most of it satoru : don’t pretend you haven’t satoru : you’re not exactly the most subtle person

your face heated up you could practically feel it warming. fuck… he wasn’t wrong.

you : shut up. you : your dick is ridiculous btw you : I didn’t expect… yknow

satoru : didn’t expect what satoru : say it

you : i didn’t expect it to be that thick. you : or that long. you : i’m a little bit scared and a lot turned on and I hate both of those things right now.

feeling emboldened, satoru sent another photo. his hand wrapped around himself this time, stroking slowly, the head glistening with pre.

satoru : i’d go slow satoru : if you ever let me satoru : i’d get you so wet first that taking me wouldn’t hurt at all satoru : i’d eat you out until you were shaking and then i’d push in inch by inch and make you feel every single one

your breath hitched. fuck fuck fuck. this is so wrong—so terribly wrong. you’re getting off to your best friend while your boyfriend’s probably getting off to you. you didn’t know which was worse—that you were this turned on or that you didn’t care you were—you pushed two fingers inside yourself and took a short video this time—just a few seconds of the wet sound and the way your hips rolled up to meet your own hand with a few whimpers in the background. you sent it with shaking fingers.

you : fuck satoru you : i’m so wet for you

satoru : yeah satoru : that’s it satoru : keep going satoru : tell me how good it feels

you : it feels good. so good. i keep thinking about how much thicker your fingers would be. or your dick. god I shouldn’t be thinking about your dick.

satoru : but satoru : you already are aren’t you satoru : and i’m over here touching myseld thinking about how wet you’d be satoru : how pretty you’d look stretched around me. i bet you’d look so pretty.

you were properly fingering yourself now, two fingers, middle and ring, messy and desperate. another photo of your hand working between your legs.

you : i’m so close already. i want to cum for you so bad

satoru : come for me then. record it pls satoru : i need to see satoru : please

you did. oh, yes you did. you came with his name half-swallowed in your throat, thighs shaking, phone still recording the last few seconds of it. you sent the video without thinking, still breathing heavy and coming down from your orgasm.

there was a longer pause this time like he was busy (you wonder why).

satoru : fuck satoru : fuck fuck fuck satoru : i just came so hard watching that satoru : it’s all over my stomach satoru : you have no idea what you do to me

you lay there breathing hard, phone clutched to your chest, the aftershocks still rolling through you. reality was already starting to creep back in—boyfriend, best friend, years of history, the fact that you had just crossed a line you couldn’t uncross.

you : we probably shouldn’t have done that.

satoru : i know but we did. satoru : and i don’t think i can pretend i don’t want you now

you stared at the ceiling for a long time.

you : …I’m keeping the pics

satoru : good satoru : because i already saved every single one you sent me satoru : and i’m going to be thinking about them every time i jerk off from now on satoru : idc if ur my bsf

you : fuck this is going to be a problem, isn’t it.

satoru : yeah probably. satoru : 100% your fault satoru : now go text your bf before he gets suspicious satoru : and then maybe… text me again later satoru : if you want. i gtg clean up. cya

you didn’t answer right away, but you also didn’t put the phone down. you couldn’t.

and when your boyfriend messaged again asking if you were free this weekend, you told him you had plans.

you just conveniently forgot to mention with who.

the next evening was, in theory, completely normal.

your families had been doing this for years—the whole rotating dinners, shared holidays, the occasional “we should all catch up” that always ended with you and satoru fighting over the last of whatever dessert your mom made (she makes a mean dessert) and your little sister declaring him her favorite person who wasn’t related to her by blood. the gojos were coming over. nothing new…. nothing strange.

except everything was strange now.

you had spent the entire day pretending the night before hadn’t happened. you texted your boyfriend something bland and affectionate but kept it to a minimum because texting him made you feel guilty. you went to class. you stared at the back of satoru’s white head three rows ahead in the lecture hall and definitely did not think about the way his cock had looked in his hand or the way your own fingers had been shiny when you came for him. You failed spectacularly at the last part.

by the time the doorbell rang at 6:40, your stomach was a knot of dread. what would seeing him after that even be like?

satoru walked in first, taller than both of his parents, glasses settled on the bridge of his nose. he was wearing a soft black sweater and baggy jeans that seemed to suit him unfairly well. when his eyes found yours across the entryway, the smile he gave was the exact same one he’d been giving you since you were fifteen.

“yo,” he said, easy and bright. as if nothing happened. nothing at all. “brought the good wine. your mom’s gonna love me even more.”

your mother laughed and took the bottle, charmed, of course. your father clapped satoru on the shoulder. mrs. gojo pulled you into a warm hug and told you that you looked lovely. mr. gojo asked about your midterms and your plans for after college. everything was totally normal.

everything was a lie.

you sat across from him at the dining table. directly across. your mother had done the seating the way she always did—alternating families so conversation flowed easier. which meant every time you lifted your eyes from your plate, satoru was right there. gorgeous white lashes and pretty blue eyes that kept catching yours and then sliding away like nothing was wrong.

your boyfriend’s name came up once. Your mother asked how things were going. You choked out a “good” and stuffed your mouth to avoid talking about him. satoru’s fork scraped against his plate for a second. no one else noticed.

conversation went on the way it always did—work, school, the new restaurant downtown, whether your little sister was allowed to get her ears pierced yet. satoru was charming. he made your dad laugh twice. he refilled your mom’s wine without being asked. he stole a piece of broccoli off your plate when no one was looking and popped it into his mouth.

you kicked him under the table.

he didn’t even flinch. just looked at you with that same open, friendly expression and said, “what? you never eat the stems.”

you just rolled your eyes and muttered a grumpy “whatever.”

dessert tonight was your mother’s lemon tart. satoru took two slices and somehow still looked innocent about it. your sister chattered at him about some anime she was watching. he listened. genuinely listened and actually engaged in conversation with her. satoru made for a good best friend, a great older brother figure for your sister, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d make for a good boyfriend. you shoved the thought away instantly. you watched his mouth move as he talked to your little sister and remembered, vividly, the way he had described pushing into you inch by inch.

you stood up too quickly when the plates were cleared, looking for any excuse to get the hell out of there.

“i’ll help with the dishes,” you announced.

your mother pointed at satoru, all playful and sweet. “satoru, darling, make yourself useful for once.”

he chuckled and stood immediately, all long limbs and easy grace. “yes, ma’am.”

god, no… the last thing you needed was to be stuck doing dishes next to him.

the kitchen was only half-separated from the dining room by a wide archway. voices and laughter still carried through. you and satoru ended up side by side at the sink—him rinsing, you loading the dishwasher—close enough that your shoulders almost brushed every time one of you moved.

for a full minute neither of you spoke.

“you okay?” he asked, not looking at you and instead focused on the task at hand.

you stared at the plate in your hands. “define okay.”

he huffed a soft almost-laugh. “fair.”

another pause; water still running. the low murmur of your parents talking about summer plans. something about a beach house together. you’d have to find a way to get out of that.

“i kept thinking about it all day,” he said, still so quiet only you could hear. “in class. the walk over here. when your mom hugged me just now i felt like the worst person alive.”

you stacked another plate with more force than necessary. “you are not allowed to say things like that while my entire family is in the other room.”

“i know.” his voice was lower now. “doesn’t stop it from being true, though.”

you risked a glance sideways. he was staring at the sink, jaw tight, the tips of his ears faintly pink. the black sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows to avoid getting them wet. you could see the flex of his forearms as he rinsed a glass. you remembered those same hands wrapped around himself last night.

heat coiled low in your stomach, unwanted and immediate.

“satoru—”

“i know,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “boyfriend. best friend. family. i know all of it.” he shut the water off and dried his hands on a dish towel, movements careful. “i’m trying to act normal. i really am. but you keep looking at me like you’re thinking about the same thing I am, and it’s making it really fucking hard.” his voice lowered as he turned to face you, a cheeky look on his face, “it’s making me really fucking hard.”

you swallowed and instantly tried your best not to conjure the image of his dick. “i am not looking at you like anything. and stop talking about your dick!”

he finally turned his head. peeked at you through the rim of his glasses before pushing them back up with his middle finger. “liar.”

the word was soft. almost fond. like he thought you being flustered was cute.

from the other room your mother called, “you two almost done? we’re thinking about tea!”

you both answered at the same time—“almost!”—and the perfect, practiced synchrony of it made you chuckle just a little.

satoru stepped a little closer under the guise of putting the dish towel away. close enough that you could smell his cologne. close enough that if anyone walked in right now it would look just a fraction too intimate.

“i meant what i said last night, y’know,” he murmured. “about not being able to pretend I don’t want you. but i’ll try. for tonight. for them.” his gaze flicked toward the dining room, then back to your mouth for a half-second too long. “just… maybe don’t look at me like that again when we’re alone. i’m only human.”

you should’ve stepped back. you should’ve laughed it off or told him to shut up or reminded him that your boyfriend existed.

his mouth curved into a knowing, teasing smirk. “besides, you’re the one who started it. all i asked for was the digimon chart.”

your face burned. “you know that was an accident!”

“happy accidents,” he shrugged.

footsteps approached. your sister’s voice, loud and bright. “mom says if you don’t hurry she’s giving satoru your piece of tart!”

you both instantly moved apart like you’d been burned. by the time your sister poked her head into the kitchen, satoru was leaning against the counter with his usual lazy smile and you were wiping down a perfectly clean section of the island.

“coming,” you muttered.

satoru ruffled your sister’s hair as he passed her on the way out, easy and big-brotherly, and she squealed and swatted at him. he glanced back at you over her head for just a second.

the look he gave you was quick. full of everything you weren’t allowed to say out loud with both families in the next room.

you followed them back to the table with your heart still racing. you majorly fucked up. astronomically, even.

tea was poured. conversation resumed. your sister brought up digimon unprompted and satoru launched into a passionate defense of the original adventure timeline like nothing in the world had changed. like you hadn’t seen his dick and he hadn’t seen you touch yourself and you both hadn’t cum to the sight of one another. what a fucking mess.

you laughed at the right moments. you passed the sugar. you let your knee brush his under the table once—accidentally, of course—and felt the way he went very still for half a breath before continuing his sentence without a single stumble.

one thing you knew for sure? you needed to break up with your boyfriend. asap.

i wish satoru was my best friend (who i fuck on a daily basis) there was supposed to be smut but i can’t lie i got too lazy and didn’t feel like writing it so there’ll probably be a part 2 LOL

“O-Oh! That— That’s too much!” Aizawa has you screaming, head tossing back into the rubbery yoga mat so graciously placed beneath you, shoveling his long veiny cock down your tiny pussy without a warning, your wobbly thighs shaking in his grip. “You know I can’t s-stretch that deep Sho.”

He had easily rid you of almost all your clothes, nimble fingers undressing you to a half-naked state, tits spilling out the discombobulated mess you once called your sports bra now tangled at your waist.

Conveniently, he swiveled you out of your panties and shorts in one go— skillfully keeping the bright pink resistance band you were just using on your own up your thighs.

Aizawa used it to his advantage; the silicone band pressing up to the squishy part of your thighs, pushing them further and further into your chest ‘til your pussy poked out between them, using the flimsy elastic to keep you from squirming out of his grip.

Folding you into the meanest mating press known to man and knocking your thighs into your pebbled tits with each slow stroke he drove into your cunt— it was fair to say this isn’t exactly what you meant by ‘stretching’.

Hoping your athletically built husband would go easy on you for indulging in his free time activities and losing said hope just as quickly, you struggled to keep up with the invigorating shock force of his thrusts shaping your tight walls, cock stretching the elastic muscles deep inside your core.

“Yeah you can’t,” Aizawa tuts, reeling his hips back and burrowing deeply into your cunt, long tendrils of onyx curls hiding the slight smirk on his lips when you're squeaking at the sucker-punch to your gut, “good thing you’ve got me to work on it.”

“Shouta! D-Don’t k-know what I’d do without you.” Nails scratching into his biceps, he’s holding himself with one hand over your head, balancing himself on his talented fingertips and fucking himself balls deep into your pussy-lips, skip slapping echoing off the concrete walls.

“I know,” he’s growling, peering up at you just to get a glimpse of your cock-drunken face, free hand running up your warm cheek, “me too.”

It’d be a sweet sentiment if he wasn’t fucking you so mean; legs burning at the way he pushes them even deeper into your lungs, middle and ring finger dipping into the gap between your lips, the cold material of his silver wedding band salty on your tongue.

Your eyes roll into your skull, feeling him fuck your throat with the same brutal pace of his hips, spit gathering in your chipmunk cheeks. “So deep!” Babbling out of your smothered mouth, he lets up slightly, strokes slowing as he adjusts himself, salvia soaked hand tracking past your belly button to the underside of your thigh.

“Deep, hmm?” He runs his hand up your hamstrings, ghosting the extended muscles tensioned beneath his grazing, and stopping just below the stretched out lips of your entrance. “Does it feel deep here?”

His hand keeps going, spittle covered fingers finding your clit and swiping circles around it, watching your thighs begin to shake. “Feels quite tense here, you should relax.”

“Right there— oh Shouta! P-Please don’t move!” His dual movements send pin-pricks right down to your womb, eyes rolling into the back of your head and tightening—

“—Shit! Can feel you clenching…” he’s cutting you off with an intoxicating grunt, cock-head oozing and oozing messy rivers of pre that show just how bad he needs you, the tight walls of velvet sucking him in skin deep. “…do you feel that?”

It’s a question gauged by the way you’re choking him alive, large hand stretching out the full length of your torso, thumb pressing into the small swollen bump at your navel all whilst keeping his fingers on your clit, veins flexing. “Feel it in your core, baby?”

You’re sure the bumpy pattern of the yoga mat is imprinted on your back once he’s pressing the bulge, touching his cock punching into your g-spot from the outside. You can hear his breathing becoming shaky, his one armed plank beginning to falter.

“Since you can’t seem to relax by yourself, I guess I’ll help my wife out—” Aizawa can barely get out his words through chattered teeth, fingers quickening on your clit as he’s the first one to fall apart, fucking himself through his orgasm seeping into your addictive cunt. “—at the expense of myself.”

“A-And your workout!”

⋮ ⌗ INGENIUMS ENGINE STALLED… CAN YOU FIX IT?

It was as if everything was going horrifically wrong for Tenya Iida, or technically- Pro Hero Ingenium.

You see, ever since he claimed his shiny new position on the official Pro Hero Billboard Charts, his life quickly went downhill. Feeling instantly cursed, the number ‘13’ instantly casted a cruel spell of bad luck over his head like a bad omen.

Sure, he wasn’t one to believe in superstitions, going off of factual evidence instead of illogical reasonings especially such silly ones established in western societies like this; yet the unlucky one and three has cursed him in vain.

It began to tarnish his career too. Tripping over his own two feet and the sudden depletion in his usual successful hand-eye coordination drills, everything caused him an issue, the movements that once came easy to him now seemed difficult.

He tried his hardest kept up with his image, helping on whatever important duties he received like any Pro Hero should, trying his very hardest to ignore the sickly feeling in his heart when he’d miss out on capturing an easy villain, or how he found himself caught in a thunderstorm on his morning jog. Showing face when it counted and putting on the flattest of smiles daily now, Tenya was falling apart.

After a hard long week of misery and unnecessary suffering, all Tenya wanted to do was come back home to sulk away inside his study in hopes of forgetting all about the day he just encountered, yet he felt a little funny in the chest, as if he was neglecting something.

Or someone.

Up until now, he believed the two of you were on the same page about this unspoken bad luck streak. This line of work is difficult even for the best of the best, and his job would occasionally halt the budding romance between the two of you, but now he’s unsure.

Watching in the corner of his glasses as you came crawling into his lap, grabby fingertips pawing and groping at his pecs perfectly filling out his XXL powder blue compression t-shirt, you were pouting at him.

Lip just quivering in the saddest frown he’s ever seen you sport, heart and soul pouring out all your pent up frustrations with him, voice all airy as you shamelessly begged for his attention.

Tenya felt terrible. Ignore you? How could he? Face turning pale when the uncomfortable stomach turning feeling of impending doom roaring inside of him, Tenya already mentally preparing for the worst.

Until your pussy hovered over his lap, the warm beating of your clit so strong he could feel it pulsating on his tree-truck thigh as you began to rut into him.

You weren’t going to leave him!

You needed him!

Tonight he felt as if his un-lucky streak finally cane to a staggering end— because if watching you pepper kisses up and down his neck meant some other worldly being found away to curse him out of all people, he’d wish bad karma upon himself for eternity.

.

“Ohhhhhh!”

All your limbs feel hot. From the way Tenya’s Herculean chest presses deliciously into your back to the feeling of his sculpted v-line knocking your ass down the mattress, it’s like you can’t seem to get enough of him tonight.

You should have known you were in for it when he slung you ever so kindly over his muscular shoulder, lugging you to the bedroom as if you weighed absolutely nothing, tossing you face down into the mattress springs and ripping your baby-pink shorts in half down your sticky thighs.

The six-foot-seven giant hovered over you in utter disbelief at how gushing wet your pussy was, a large hand squeezing over the base of his shaft just to measure how humongous he looked on top of you, and just maybe, where his tip would hit inside of you.

The greedy inches of his lengthy cock fully covered the full expanse of your back, strawberry-milk shaded tip weeping all over your soft spine in excitement at stuffing you full.

Thankfully, fitting his coke-can girth inside of your tight pussy took little effort with how long you’ve been waiting out for him to fuck you, whatever issues he’d been going through taking priority of your neglected princess pussy, and tonight? You wanted to be spoiled rotten.

“H-Harder!” You’re purring from beneath the pillows, drool gathering at the side of your squished cheek, arching your back to meet his chubby inches halfway, skin slowly sticking together as he fills you to the brim.

Cock drunk was an understatement, words slurring together in confusing strings of emotions before your brain could even process them falling from your lips, begging for whatever Tenya could give you.

“Harder! Baby I—” Tenya could feel his throat go dry, glasses fogged up from how hot his cheeks felt, steam practically pouring out his ears in sexual frustration. He was showing restraint. “—I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever hurt you.”

Oh and could you hear the slight strain in his voice, obviously holding back from using you, an accidental slip up here and there cracking his resolve. The idea of being ravished by him drives you nuts. “But I want it! Been so stressed at work ‘n workin’ so hard protecting everybody and—mmhf! T-Think you deserve it!”

“Deserve it?”

It’s as if it’s his brain that’s blown a gasket, feelin’ the engines on his claves practically buzzing as his hips suddenly reel backwards, pulling his cock all the way out of your syrupy lips and puuuushing back inside with a ‘plap!’ stretching you so wide it’s fucking you numb.

“Thank you—” he’s dragging out his syllables, hips sculpted by the years and years of vigorous training only working at abusing your poor pussy. He can’t slow down when you feel this good, smooth insides of your drenched cunt pulling him so deep he’s swabbing at your cervix like he just put all in on red and won. “—Oh, thank you- thank you, baby!”

“Wait!” You’re pleading, sensitive body so sore already, struggling to keep up with the pace brutally flattening you into the sheets and ridding you of the last of your movements. “I c-can’t! ‘s too much!”

Tenya’s hands fall to your ass, gripping you so hard you just know you’ll feel the outline of his fingertips in the morning. “T-Too much? I’m sorry I— oh baby, I’m just getting started.”

He’s movin’ you around like a flimsy little doll, body pulled and tugged at Tenya’s will, locked in place like his personal pocket pussy, using your warm tight entrance to burn off his bent up unlucky frustration.

Each hump of his meaty thighs presses you farther and farther away from him, lousy noggin’ just barely knock, knock, knocking! at the wood grain headboard and making you dizzy.

“Where are you going, honey?” Tenya questions, large bulging bicep coming up in front of you and pressing down, pulling your lazy body upright, stars prickling in your blacked out eyesight.

He’s just too damn big. Tensed forearm wrapping around your sticky throat and squeezing into the either sides of your windpipe, lungs gasping for air as the humming sounds of air begin to exhale out your chest.

Tenya realizes his mistake, his luck falling flat on his pink nose and apologizing, arm tensing off your neck. “Sorry— sorry! Gettin’ distracted, honey—”

“—No! Don’t you fucking move!” The feeling is almost as electrifying as his cock greedily pounding into your g-spot. You beg for no mercy, mind fuzzy as you gasp for air, ass snapping back to chase his cock, poor puffy clit throbbing for attention and rubbing into the sheets like a fiend. “Need you to keep ugh— need it! Need you!”

“Oh my honey, a-are you sure? Don’t hurt yourself ‘cus you’re getting desperate.” Tenya stills, watching as your hands grip at his thick forearm, placing it back to the column of your throat, fingers digging into his elbow and hinging your face back in a headlock.

“I’m sure— fuck!” You’re mewling, voice hoarse from how eagerly it scratches at your esophagus, hips rolling into the dark patch of hair at the base of his cock.

Leaning over your sticky back, Tenya glues himself to you, hips gyrating so fast you can’t meet his rutting thrusts, pressing his lips into your clammy cheek. “How did I get so lucky?”

⋮ ⌗ SHOTO HAS BABY FEVER? YOU WONT SURVIVE!

You should have never offered to hold Natuso’s new born son in front of Shoto, scooping the teary-eyed infant into your arms as a last resort to soothe the boy out of his febril crying fit.

It was as if you were a natural, gently running your bare fingertip down the side of his pale peach-fuzzed cheek, working your unknowing motherly magic on him until he completely stopped fussing, loud screams smoothing into little hiccups of slumber.

You didn’t mind holding him the rest of the visit, ignoring the way your boyfriend watched your every move; chalking it up to him being overprotective of the infant. Little could get in the way of letting the tired boy sleep his worries away safely on your lap, even going the extra mile to leisurely rock a slow rhythm in the rocking chair.

You could feel Shoto’s presence lingering on you for the rest of the day, eyeing you down like he had so much to say yet nothing to acknowledge all at the same time, fighting the urge to tell you just how much he loved you.

Loving you enough to picture you holding his son instead, a perfect blend of the two of you in a chubby faced baby, with eyes like his and a caring personality like yours. It was all he could think about as wobbling knees practically gave out the moment you placed a soft kiss to his nephew’s forehead.

Shoto would be an amazing dad, refusing to follow in his father’s footsteps, he’d prioritize his family over his job, making sure to put you and his son first. He could picture it so clearly, stepping up and taking care of your growing family, quietly showing off his pregnant wife to allll his friends and protecting you from any harm that dares to come your way.

He almost successfully avoided his feelings from boiling over the surface of his syrupy belly until you joked along with him on the ride home, your pupils wide and smile warm as you casually teased him about giving his adorable nephew a cousin to grow up alongside.

.

“Sh-Shoto! You’re making a mess!”

Cum spilling out from your cunt each time you lifted off of his hips, white beads of cream drifting all over the expanse of his thick thighs as he filled you round after round, your womb a target for Shoto to breed.

Like a big fat ‘X’ marking the spot on your belly, Shoto set his mind on spilling into it, holding your words close to his heart. Deliriously hiccuping over his words as he pounded into you relentlessly, he was determined to stuff your elastic pussy with load after load, making sure it stuck.

He started fucking your hours ago, starting in the living room on top of you and somehow carrying your delirious cum filled body into the shared bedroom, ploppin’ you on top of his lap to continue his mission, fully expecting to fulfill your wish.

“No…” he’s shaking his head, brows heavy over his heterochromia irises whilst he watches the way you’re plopping down on his cock, creamy rivets smearing over his pelvis. “… no I’m not.”

You slow your agonizing movements down, catching a break from the constantly pounding at your cervix, yet the feeling of a finger poking at your entrance shocks you, body jerking in overstimulation once he’s collecting the sap leaking out your slit, swiping it back over his cock for your suctioning cunt to lap at.

“Don’t let me stop you, I— we can’t let any of this go to waste.”

Shit.

Big mistake.

Quite the mistake fucking you raw that is. Everything feels so much more intimate— far more real than any previous times he’s busted nuts behind the latex barrier of a condom. It’s enough to drive the two of you wild, feeling every twisting vein over his cock pressed up inside you, down to the way his red tip throbs at your cervix.

Your legs are getting tired, muscles aching at the urgent pace he’s set for you to follow, his hands so big they rock you over his heavy shaft. Shoto doesn’t let you slow down, forcing your limp body to fall into his chest, smushing your nose into the clammy skin on his sticky neck, “I’m tired Sho—”

“I know but— shouldn’t we at least try one more time?” He’s questioning you, cutting you off to buck into your pussy, his left hand spaying over the little lump at the bottom of your belly, “need to make sure it works, right?”

Heat begins to bloom over your stomach, palm warming up enough to send heated tingles down towards your sensitive core, heartbeat thumping in his fingertips.

“O-One more?” You shake out, meeting his gaze down at your belly, placing your much smaller hand over his larger one, “promise?”

Oh does the idea of filling you until he’s shooting blanks entice him, his whimpering cock beginning to freakishly sob at the idea of breeding you ‘til you can’t move, a streamline of tacky pre dribbling all over his head and past your g-spot, colliding with the wobbly knot he’s grown to adore.

It was most likely a half-truth when Shoto nodded his head, colossal thighs spreading so wide you almost fall off of him, legs unable to wrap around such a stocky frame. “Mhm— maybe.” His arms reach behind you, two hands flat to your bare back to regain control over your pitiful excuse for being on top, bucking his hips up into your pussy just how you like it.

A sharp wail cries through your chest when your fingers snake down to toy with your clit, rubbing mighty little circles around the bud, feeling Shoto angle your back into an arch, mushroom tip digging into your g-spot.

“D-Do you want me to cum inside? Again?” He’s asking so nicely, although he already knows you both know the answer.

“Again shit— please don’t stop— don't stop!” Your destroyed pussy’s absolutely ready to guzzle down another round of seed, body clenching down on demand at his request, greedy cunt starving.

“Don’t stop what? Tell me…” Shoto grinds upwards, pressing his dick into every gooey spot inside of you, staring at you with the softest love drunken gaze you’ve ever seen. “…tell me what you want sweetheart.”

Oh does poor Shoto desperately need to hear you mutter those five letters out from your drooling lips, mind going wild with thoughts of you pregnant, the simple domesticated life he craves so damn close he can almost taste it.

The uncle title suited him well enough, but not as good as the one echoing in his eardrums.

“W-Want your cum!” You murmur, eyes rolling into your head as the impending release begins to zap through your clit, and just before you and Shoto come together for the final time tonight, you give in, whispering in the shell of his ear. “Wanna make you a daddy.”

⋮ ⌗ RED RIOT GOES PUBLIC WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND?

You seemingly didn’t prepare yourself for the first public outing with your Pro Hero boyfriend enough, miscalculating just how ‘famous’ he actually was as you stepped out of the sleek black car into a crowd of people swiftly surrounding the two of you.

Oh just imagine it, the plethora of random blog posts plastered with the worst possible pictures of Red Riot’s brand new relationship— your squinted face batting the cameras away in pure agony, shuttering cameras flashes so bright it blinds your pupils and makes you delirious, the over-exposed, highly detailed pictures taken in the worst angle possible. Horrifying!

Thankfully, Kirishima was on you in an instant, puffing up his chest and sending a piercing gaze over anyone who got too close to you— his woman, making sure his hand stayed flush to the curve of your hip, keeping you secure to his thumpin’ heart.

Thriving in the heavy atmosphere, he made sure to wave on occasion, throwing a smile up for the cameras and gently declining any signing of hero memorabilia, focusing on solely protecting you. Like a shiny teethed doberman, Kirishima was more than happy to be your guard dog of the evening.

Instantly overwhelmed, tunnel vision ran rampant through your body, focusing on the pathway towards the restaurant your boyfriend so graciously called in a last minute favor to get a reservation at, trying your very best to run through the doors and hopefully ignore the growing commotion around you.

That was the plan of course, until a crazed ‘fan’ came running up the sidewalk, successfully running between the two of you, holding a thick stack of glossy pictures of your muzzled pro hero from his most recent photo shoot. He was unashamedly begging for his autograph, poppin’ the cap off the blue sharpie and shoving it in Kirishima’s face, disrespecting you in the process of begging Kirishima to sign something, or anything.

Probably just to end up reselling the autograph on eBay anyways.

Something inside of Kirishima snapped in an instant. Eager to shield you from getting hurt, his body moved faster than his mind. His towering build began to tense rock solid, sculpted muscles flexing and sharpening. Using his quirk to his advantage Kirishima easily pushed the man away for the two of you, mumbling under his breath something about not respecting the woman around him, physically stiff-arming him in the process.

You couldn’t hide the cheeky smile spreading on your lips as you watched him publicly protect you, pussy clenching around nothing when Kirishima resumed his dominance, moving you and him through the crowd with a strong hand gripping the side of your hip.

The next five minutes moved in a blur, Kirishima leading you into the restaurant doors with an unmistakable hunger in his eyes, one so excruciatingly hot and bothered that the two of you missed your dinner reservations, passing down the extravagant dining room donned with the fanciest of silverware for a far more secluded spot in the restaurant.

.

Hidden between the tiny family restroom stood Kirishima pressing you up against the bathroom wall, hips thrusting his rock-hard cock past your chubby lips and plugging up your tight drooling hole.

From the sounds echoing off the empty walls to the gilded mirror fogging with the friction thickening in the air, it was clear Kirishima felt full of adrenaline.

Furious hormones running rampant in his body, blood rushing straight down to his curved cock head, angling his thrusts to probe at your g-spot just right, burgundy silk dress hiked up past your belly and black lace thong pulled to the side to slit his fat shaft inside of you, bumping your back against the cold surface with each full thrust he shoved inside of you.

“Oh! Eiji! H-How are you sooooooo—”

“—Sooo deep?” He cuts you off with a sleazy laugh, shark teeth grinning as he bites down on the throbbing pulse point in your neck, sucking the skin in his mouth, tongue swiping over the soft surface and grunting once he’s tasting your pheromones.

Your eyes roll backward, mouth agape as he fucks you dumb, words slurring. “So deep!”

And deep he was. Cherry-hued tip swirling over each empty spot of your cunt, ballooning up inside of you to carve out his bulky shape permanently, claiming your raw cunt like it was an award for being such a great hero protecting his pretty baby.

“Cus I was made for you, baby.” He’s groaning, fingertips dimpling into the flesh of your thighs, propping you up even higher on the wall, purposely making sure you can hold his ferocious gaze as he continues. “This cock? ‘s alllll yours.”

Kirishima proves it with each thrust, the passion unmistakably fills you fully down to the very base of his pelvis, cock so deep you can feel it in your beating chest.

He’s almost as fucked out as you are, crimson strands of hair sticking out every which way on his sweaty forehead, the prettiest rosy hue spreading over his sloped nose bridge, it made you melt.

Watching as you stare at him, his carmine irises practically shift into the cutest cartoon hearts, taking in the adorable view of your fucked-out face, calloused thumb running along the side of your drooling mouth. “Feeling good? Don’t hold back, y’know I’ve got ya.”

Body held up with the strength in his palms alone, Kirishima fucked you deep into the wall without breaking a sweat, letting you sit there and take it all prettily; limbs like jelly as you succumb to his pleasure. “Yes! Mm— all yours Eijirou!”

“Gotta give my fuckin’ girl all of me.” He tuts, drilling his length into you at an alarming speed, milky shaft perfectly curvin’ in your cunt, jolting pleasure roaring in your core. “Making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

So big and tough. Muscles meant to protect you from danger being the very same ones that flick at your clit, two digits messily drifting between where the two of you meet to rub delicious figure eights into the gummy flesh.

“T-They already know! I- I’m yours!” You scream, hands flying up to nip at his deltoids, skin pressing into the his maroon shirt— the perfect shade to match your now disheveled dress.

“They do?” He’s grinning, pinching your clit between his fingers, laughing when your cunt flutters around him, watching your sensitive body squirm.

You can barely speak, giving him a wobbly nod with your lazy head, legs wrapping tight around his hips, keeping his fingers tight on your cunt.

“You really sure about that, sweetpea? Maybe we should remind them just how manly I am.” The urge to let everyone outside hear your moans trickles throughout him, giddy at the possibility that everyone will know he’s the one fucking your brains out, the idea making his cock jump. “Tell them, tell them— who’s making you feel this good, baby?”

“E-Eiji— fuck!”

“Nuh-uh, try again, sugar.” He corrects, face nuzzling back into your neck, this time kissing the raised flesh. What’s my name? The name they’re screamin’ out for.”

Your mind blacks out as you cum, falling headfirst into your white-hot high. Screaming at the top of your lungs so hard it hurts, the pleasure takes over every last sense of rational left inside of you; lips only spewing one thing.

“R-Red Riot!”

You chuckle at his suggestive words but pay no mind to it, eyes still fixated on the gun in your hands, "Sukuna, can you please stop groaning like that. It's kinda distracting." You scold harmlessly.

His voice is a bit deeper and huskier than you know it to be, "But it feels so fucking good."

Sukuna’s heavy arm drapes over his mouth to conceal the moan that threatens to escape him and alert you of his aroused state. He hopes you think all his shifting and bratty huffing is from the pain and not the fact that he's so ridiculously turned on right now.

"Someone could walk in and think I'm in here giving you a blowjob or something,” You snort before lifting the machinery away from his skin for a moment to check your work, "Should've warned me about your pain kink before setting up this appointment with me."

Sukuna moves his arm and smirks down at you, hand snaking down to his crotch just to cup his current issue in hopes of hiding it from you. The pain felt way too good this session.

Then your gun dives into a specific bundle of nerves that cause a moan to finally leave him. You weren't new to this line of work, you were used to some of your clients having that kind of reaction but... Sukuna had never been the vocal type, especially when he breathes out a whorish, "Ah, h-harder…”

The man just couldn't help himself.

Which is exactly why you stop for a second and look up at him, trying to see if you really heard what the hell you just heard. Scoffing, "What?"

His adam's apple is bobbing in his throat and you could see how tense his jaw was from the pain, eyes hazy and glaring down on yours. You weren't gonna say anything else until you just so happen to drag your gaze downwards and-

Oh.

That plump outline of his hard cock was not hidden well under his big hand. He couldn’t hide that thing no matter how hard he tried. Well, that and the way he was literally palming his shaft to provide himself some sort of relief like you weren’t sitting a few centimeters away.

As if this was supposed to be normal, he merely cocks his chin at you and where you’ve got your tool pointing, grunting, "Right there, press-,” The tattoo-gun sinks into his skin before he gets to finish and you watch his cheeks flush with red and his lashes flutter in pleasure, “Fuck, harder..."

Now, this is not how you normally handle these kinds of situations but then again, not many of your clients sit here and talk you through the tattooing process all sexually like he was currently. So, you press the needle into him with a little more pressure, not enough to cause significant damage or anything but, y’know, just to satisfy the guy a little. "Like that?" You chuckle, finding this whole thing funny above anything else.

Sukuna’s eyes widen before rolling back, hips bucking up into his palm as he throws his head back again and groans out, "I'm gonna cum.."

Caught off guard by the fact that he’s being so deadass right now, you blink. "Sukuna, what?" He angles his head to look down at you again and his mind blanks.

You’ve pulled your tool away from his leg and you’re fully facing him now, sitting one head-pull away from his aching cock and… looking down at it. Jaw slacking and hand tensing around his bulging erection, "S-Shiiit..." He nearly whines, trying to squeeze his dick a bit tighter to stop himself from cumming. There’s no way he was about to blow his load just from one measly look from you-

"Are you serious right now?" You scoff, annoyance coating your tone in a way that has his cockhead drooling even more.

Sukuna chuckles, "Uhuh, keep lookin at me like that,” He says boldly before fully stroking his length through the slicked of his shorts, “M’almost there..."

"Gross.." You say harmlessly before you place your gun down and then push up on your knees. His brows furrow as he watched the way you force his hand out of the way to replace with your own, gorgeous fingers wrapping around the bobbing outline of his cock.

He sits straight up and moans way too loudly for his own liking. "Fuck, wait-, I’m—“

He doesn’t even get to finish before you feel him twitching profusely underneath your palm, having hardly been touched. You giggle and then lift your hand to watch the wet spot on his shorts spread—indicating that he just came from a single touch.

To which you snicker, “Yikesss, that’s embarrassing. Only took one touch to get you there?”

Sweating slightly and gulping down a thick swallow of nerves, “What are you talking about?” He asks with this blank stare like he didn’t just blow his load against your palm and wasn’t currently panting from his recent orgasm.

You cock a brow and then cross your arms, “Did you not just cum in my hand?”

Sukuna looks left, then right, then back at you before lifting his shoulders to shrug, “…No?”

“Then—“

He suddenly nods down at you and then hums, “Look down ‘n pay attention, brat. M’still hard.”

You follow his little order and look down to see that his dick is definitely still curving up all needily against his clothing. Face twisting up with confusion—as if that was supposed to prove his point or something, “That doesn’t mean you didn’t just cum from one touch like some loser.” You argue.

“Well, if you have such a problem with it, put that mouth on my cock next time so I don’t make the same mistake.” He suggests way too casually for your liking.

“Y’know what, fine,” You accept, hands moving to peel those shorts of his down in an unprofessional manner—though, that line had been crossed a while ago. His cock comes springing free with a meaty thud against his lower abdomen, completely smothered in his release, and earning a widening of your eyes. Then you take his shaft into your hand, thumb flicking under one of his throbbing veins as you whisper, “And if you last longer than five minutes, I’ll give you a discount for the tatt’.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, hand quickly and naturally moving to weave through your hair and urge you on, “That’s all I get? A little discount?”

You smile knowingly and your lips decorate his blushing tip of creamy cum with soft taps, “You’re cute but,” Your tongue swipes out to taste the mess coating your lips now, “If you want anything free, you gotta make me cum too.”

As if you’d just uttered some kinda magical words, Sukuna’s thighs spread impossibly wider as he slumps further back and rolls his hips upward, “Yeah? Well, get up here and use this cock until you're a mess too if that’s the case."

Gulp.

banner art by rororogi mogera & this is a revised repost. || tags:

@kvsqkiii @chewiebee @seraphimicism @twohandsthreeholes @mystiiifyed @mauve-gojo @designerpvssy @okkkk6491 @kingofpiratesiguess @t-oast-101

You still couldn’t just go ‘fuck someone’ though, but you couldn’t help but be upset after the brand new girlfriend had gotten you. Hugging you and being all friendly, your kid had just scowled right at her, he may have been six but he was damn near forty with his mentality, and he did not like her.

You’d had to go get a drink, got all cute in a dress you hadn’t worn in about seven years, it was just a little tight on the hips but it looked cute, clearly – walking into the exclusive, fancy club had settled that when there were eyes on you. It was so odd, going to one of these, and alone, but you poked around on your phone, taking a small sip of the tart drink, letting it hit your taste buds.

There were two men buying you drinks, one on the right of you, and one on the left, the two of them talking as you barely listen, wondering exactly what the fuck you were supposed to feel.

They were cute, their attention felt nice, yet you had no desire for them.

“Are you listening?” You blink a bit, sighing.

“Yes, sorry,” the guy was your type… tall, dark and honey tongued, reminiscent of your ex a bit –  but that was not what you needed. “I um… have to go to the bathroom. One minute.”

You manage, walking off before the two men can say anything, planning your escape in your head when you run right into a hard body.

“Oof,” you stumble a bit, feeling a huge hand on your waist steadying you, peeking up into ruby red eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tch, it’s fine,” he mumbled, you felt a little too good against him, he couldn’t help but hold you there, dumbstruck as you stepped back, eyes glancing over your body and lingering on your hips.

Fuck you’re pretty.

“Trying to run away from them?” He smirks at you now, you sigh,  looking back over your shoulder to see the two men arguing, before looking back up at this smug looking man.

He’s gotta be younger than you – this big grin on his face, a varsity jacket – that shit told you all you needed to know, especially with his friends in tow, pointing and waving at you like little shitheads. You peek curiously, leading him to look back, glaring and making them turn around, whistling – hands in their pockets.

“Your friends?” You tease, he sighs, looking back down at you.

“You could call them that, I guess…” He gave them a fucking death glare, seeing in his phone now a text from Satoru.

If you don’t tap that milf, I will.

He can’t stand them.

You’re going to walk by when he pauses you – he never has to try, Sukuna has women all the fuck over him, especially in college. Never has one seemed so uninterested until now – making him furious as he realizes his hand is on your wrist. You blink and look at it for a moment.

“Uh, your name,” he manages to say, suddenly nervous.

Sukuna, nervous?

Really now.

“Oh,” you give it to him and he repeats it, making you flustered at the proximity, his hand still touching you. “Yours?”

“Sukuna.”

“Nice to meet you,” you clear your throat now and go to walk away again, this time he damn near shouts your name. “What’s up?”

“Like… fuck, you just…” He hears Satoru and Suguru snickering over there, he may kill them. “Can I buy you a drink or some shit?”

“You’re hot,” you make him blush, assessing him carefully. “But you’re too young for me.”

“Too young? Tch,” he looks you over again. “You’re what, twenty two?”

“Add six to that,” he raises a brow.

“You look good as shit.”

“Oh,” you’re lingering again, tugging at the too tight dress, acutely aware of how you’ve changed a bit since the kid.

Tits, hips, all just a little different from when you were his age, but his eyes seem to eat it up.

“Thank you,” you manage, sighing. “Just you’re a baby.”

He laughs now. “What!? A baby?”

“Mhm,” he’s chuckling and stands so damn tall suddenly – a good six inches on your husband, you can’t help but heat up. “A baby.”

“I’m not a fucking baby,” you raise a brow, earning his glare. “I’m not!?”

“You have on a varsity jacket, with a bud light in your hand,” you tap at the bottle and he scoffs. “What, twenty one? That shit is water.”

“You’re fuckin’ mean,” you just smile at that – you’ve never even been called mean, you were the perfect stepford wife really.

But maybe you like that.

Maybe you like him saying that to you.

“When you grow up you’ll get a finer palate, what are those, your fraternity brothers?”

“No!?”

Yes.

He is not about to let you run off though, so Sukuna leans down a bit, brushing a lock of your hair back, watching it take effect when your eyes dilate. “I’m twenty eight, I’m mentoring those two.”

“Twenty eight?”

“Yep,” he lies straight up, he’s not sure you even believe him. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“Not bud light.”

“Not that,” he throws that out so fast you laugh. “Gone.”

“I see,” you settle a bit now, unsure if he’s real with it or not, but you do know he’s the first person to make you laugh since the shitshow of a divorce, so you ease up. “I’ll take a drink.”

You take two, in fact, as his other friends are dancing with girls, but his attention is locked on you, his tattoos catching your attention when he slings the jacket off and rolls up his sleeves. Rough hands, black lines darting along the back of them, up those veiny forearms that have your mind wandering.

God he’s hot, in this bad boy way you’d have never gone for when you were in college, no – you went for the ‘nice guy’ who was now fucking the babysitter.

Maybe your friends were right.

Maybe twitter porn could steer you into making this man whimper and cum in your mouth.

Maybe you’re feeling slutty and your mind is making you blush.

“Whatchya thinkin’?” You clear your throat now, leaning back a bit, crossing your legs as his gaze flickers over your thighs.

“Nothing really,” you lie, smiling. “I had a bad day.”

“I could tell.”

“Oh?”

“Easily,” he smirks down at you. “Probably why you’re so damn mean.”

“Maybe,” you admit, when the phone goes off – a text from your ex that your son is fast asleep, making you suddenly depressed. “Shit…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I…” You feel the emotions hit, sighing now. “I’m never away from my kid or anything.”

“Oh? Why tonight?”

“I now have every other weekend without him,” you sip your drink, feeling the warmth hit. “It’s just weird to me I guess.”

“Divorce?” He asks, you nod. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just was out of nowhere,” you tap your nails on the table a little bit, his hand comes to brush a droplet off your lips, making you falter.

“That’s why you’re here drinking alone and shit, looking that fine?”

“Fine, hmm?” He just raises a slutty eyebrow – two little slits like he’d buzzed them himself. “Me?”

“Yes, you – annoying too.”

“Me!?”

“Mhm,” you shove at him playfully a bit then, sighing.

“If you weren’t a baby, maybe I’d let you fuck me.”

“Oh?” You hardly hold that together, the boldness that you feel with him, as he leans in, his hand on your thigh now, the contact alone making you drip. “If I wasn’t a ‘baby’?”

“Yeah, maybe I would,” your hand goes on top of his. “What a shame though, frat boy.”

“I’m not in a frat anymore,” you clock him too goddamn well. “Should show you just how much I am not a baby, yeah?”

“How are you gonna show me, Sukuna?” You lean close, lips a breath away, and that’s how you ended up here.

In a damn bathroom, pressed up on a marble countertop, with a frat boy plunging two fingers in your messy cunt, murmuring – “Arch f’me, brat”

Of course you arch.

His fingers are so thick and rough, finding spots your husband never even could, honing in on them as he leans over you, kissing you messy, sloppy, saliva just dripping between you both. Your breath catches in your throat as he drinks your pathetic whines, hitting your soft spot in those gummy walls that just quiver.

“Sukuna…” He moans at that, pressing up again, looking at your parted lips as his free hand tugs down your dress, letting a pretty tit slide out.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he mumbles, they’re so pretty, his thumb brushes over one nipple in a circle, your head falls back for his lips to leave kisses on your throat, feeling you grip him. “So tight, been a while, huh?”

“Oh fuck off,” you breathe out, glaring as your thighs tremble, nails pressing into his jacket.

“Bet it has,” he’s grinning against your skin. “Did he not make you cum at all? Didn’t stretch your cunt out, so it’s this needy?”

“You’re a dick,” you whine out in his ear, arching for more as your cunt dribbles right down. “Such a d-dick…”

“Mhm, not a baby though – I know how to make you cum,” he arches his thick fingers one more time, curling them until you squirt, screaming out barely muffled, he laughs as he pulls back, raising a brow. “Aw, are you pissin’ on me, mommy?”

“You fucking freak!?” You kick at him, but you’re getting overstimulated, his laugh tickling your lips as he yanks his fingers back, shoving them in his own mouth, making yours drop. “You’re…”

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he moans now, sucking your juices off, gripping your chin now. “Open.”

You do.

You open wide for a frat boy to spit in your mouth – what would the PTA think about this behavior, really!?

Nor the rest of that night, where he bent you over the sink, and fucked into your cunt – wearing a condom only because you made him, because fuck he wanted to hit it raw. Your taste swapping between your mouths as he fucked you against that sink, his cock stretching you, burning you in fact with how big it was, how hard it was to take him like that.

Throwing you around like it was nothing, fucking you and holding your hips as you peered at your slutty little reflection.

Mouth open.

Eyes narrowed.

Cheeks flushed.

Tits slipped from your neckline, one in a big hand as he pumped his latex covered cock inside you, until you shattered, squirting down his boxers, his jeans – he was so desperate he’d lick it off his fingers later for more. Busting in a condom when he’d rather creampie you, moaning your name all pathetic as you grip him better than anyone has before.

He’d been so damn breathless he was weak – him, Sukuna, who had girls just begging for him every night, kissing and wanting to snuggle with a stranger – a mom and divorcee clearly a few years older. Whatever you did to your cunt was frightening – kegels or some shit!? He wasn’t sure, all he knew was it was addictive, so much so as he threw out the condom and you rushed out, he fucking ran after you.

Yep, Sukuna running.

“Can’t just do that and not give me your number,” he’d caught you right in front of the bar, as you leaned against the wall, waiting for your ride to come. “Gonna make me beg for it?”

“It was amazing, yeah? You certainly can fuck,” you touched his lips, feeling the cool air hit. “But you’re young, and I’m a mess.”

“You were a mess on my cock-”

“And you’re an asshole!?”

“I am,” you laughed then, shaking your head. “Number.”

“For what?”

“Don’t you wanna feel that again?” He’d lifted your skirt up right there, you could feel the stickiness of your panties clinging to you as he leaned low. “Let me fuck all that sadness from your pretty head, milf.”

“Milf? Psh,” you’d given in though, taking out your phone. “Fine, give me your number.”

He saved you as that – Milf – with a sneak picture of your tits in that dress smirking while you were oblivious.

You end up saving him as – quarter life crisis.

“So any time I want it, you’ll just… fuck me? Like a fuck buddy or something?”

“Aw you’re so cute, mommy, have you never had one?”

“I have!?”

Not.

You were both liars, really.

“Fine then, we could be… that,” you managed to say, peeking around to see the ride there. “I have to get home though.”

“Text me, mommy?”

“Don’t fucking call me mommy, frat boy brat,” he laughed again.

“You’re the brat.”

“Me!? No,” you’d hopped in the back of the car, leaning back and shutting your eyes – unsure just what you had gotten yourself into, when the phone dinged about half an hour later.

Quarter life crisis – could I have a titty pic, please? I’m so hard and thinking of how pretty they are.

What a little shit.

*****

“This liar,” the address Sukuna sent you to the next week so you could ‘visit him’ on one of your days off while your kid was at school?

A goddamn frat house.

Alpha Beta Capa something or other, clear as day with the damn greek letters on the front of the enormous building, and here you are, with goddamn brownies you baked for him. You don’t know what to bring – it’s too early for wine, and you didn’t wanna come empty handed, but to bring it in a frat house!?

You were gonna look like one of their older sisters or something, embarrassing as shit, you were wearing a pretty simple little sundress too, due to the heat. Looking like Suzy Homemaker when this jerk of a man had indeed lied about being your age. You almost go to put the car in reverse and book it out when he comes running down the steps towards you.

Shit.

He’s waving his big ass arms, grinning even as you scowl over at him through your car window, he leans against it as you lower it carefully.

“Nice minivan, mommy.”

“Nice frat house you baby,” he glares so you roll up the window again, about to book it out as his psycho ass opens your door. “I can’t believe you’re such a little liar, ugh!”

“Well you wouldn’t have talked to me!? We’re barely even different in age, shit don’t go…” You have his big ass in your passenger now, leaning over and putting your car in park. “Seriously, I have my own room and bathroom, all that. Swear none of my friends will bother you.”

“What will this look like, me going in there!?”

“Cute,” is all he manages to say, eyeing your thighs in that dress – some little sunflower one he can’t wait to shove up your hips.

“Cute, hmm?”

“Very cute,” he hates the dumb shit you make him think of – domestic shit that he hoped not to even contemplate for years, but you’re such a damn pretty little wife right now. He can see why you got married young – though he can’t see why some dumbass would let you go. “Did you bake?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking back at the two pretty pioneer woman baking dishes you brought. “When I’m nervous I just start baking.”

“It smells good,” he leans close now, taking over everything in your mini van, really, far, far too close. “You smell good, too.”

“Do I?” You whisper, his lips a breath away.

Oh fuck.

You’d thought the drinks may have made it more intense, this feeling with Sukuna, but it wasn’t – you just want him. Inside you again, spitting in your mouth, picking you up and throwing you around like you’re a doll to him. You heat up when he uses two fingers, tilting up your chin.

“How long you got before you have to get the kid?”

“Like a couple hours,” you murmur, feeling guilty then.

He’s at school and you’re…

“Hey,” Sukuna cuts off your thoughts. “You’re allowed to have fun, yeah?”

“I don’t know, I feel so…”

“And what’s the dad doing?”

“Well, he doesn’t even have him often,” you sigh now, shutting your eyes. “He’s probably giving the babysitter bad dick, though.”

“Exactly, so you get your cute ass in here and bring these brownies, hmm?” You laugh, getting a little kiss as he pauses. “That okay outside of… sex?”

“Yes, if it’s okay with… you…” You shut your eyes now. “Imma liar too.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never had sex casually, or… a ‘friends with benefits’. If we’re friends, even… we’re still kinda strangers, huh?”

“So we both lied,” he teases, almost gently for a big, pretentious jerk like he seemed.

You nod, blushing, before shoving at him.

“I didn’t lie like you did! Twenty-eight my ass.”

“Did you really believe me?” You sigh and let him kiss you, and it feels too fucking good. “Be honest.”

Could you really separate sex from feelings, when your dumbass ex husband was the majority of your life? You had your wild phase before him, but it had all been dumbass fratboys who couldn’t make you cum.

Sukuna seemed different from what you remember then.

“Shut up,” that’s your answer as you turn your car off, and he’s chuckling. “We can hang out for an hour but I swear if one of your young ass frat brothers hears me or something!?”

“They won’t, come on.”

Oh, they don’t tease.

They simp over you bringing brownies in.

“Oh my god, for us!?” The white haired one grins and runs right over to you, taking one of the pans. “You’re so sweet, mommy.”

“God don’t call me that, you brats,” you grimace, the dark haired one taking the other gently, his eyes flickering over you.

“Hey pretty.”

You can’t help but blush a bit at him, as Sukuna scowls, shoving the pan in his hands as he smirks at you. “Don’t fucking hit on her you weirdos. Especially you, Suguru.”

“Why especially me?”

“At least she’d never take Satoru seriously.”

“Excuse me!?”

You snort just a bit at the cute man’s pout, they’re both setting the pioneer woman trays down, tearing them open and moaning as they shove their face full of your brownies.

“I’m gonna cum-”

“Satoru what the fuck!?” Suguru is snorting, moaning as he bites another piece.

“Divine.”

“Okay, go fuck yourselves now.”

"Aw, Kuna, don't be like that," the white haired one, apparently named Satoru, whines like a mad little brat, truly, batting his ridiculously long white lashes. "We just wanna get to know your new friend."

"Yeah," the other – apparently Suguru, says, his gaze a little too appreciative as it lingers on the curve of your waist in the dress, where Sukuna’s hand sits as if he can tell, yanking you against him. "She brought us gifts."

"They're for Sukuna," you say then, cheeks burning up at the attention of three hot men staring at you – all over six foot three, all far too handsome, really.

All on you.

It's been a long time since you've been looked at like this, for years you were damn near locked away – just a mom, and now you’re an ex-wife, but they clearly all find you and your brownies pretty damn hot.

You giggle when Sukuna squeezes you hard, tugging you away. “Leave me some, I have other things to eat first.”

“Sukuna!” You panic at that, he’s chuckling, throwing his head back as he leads you away from the kitchen, past two pyramids of red solo cups and bottles of beer from likely last night, towards a big, winding staircase.

“You don’t like getting eaten?”

“I um…”

You’re older than him.

You’re the experienced one in life – you can’t act like some blushing virgin when you’ve had an entire baby and a marriage.

“They heard you!”

“They’ll probably jerk off to the thought,” you follow him up, heading to his room – surprisingly clean, and bigger than you’d expect. 

Mostly it smells like his cologne.

You already like that scent too much.

He shuts the door and then turns to you, smirking a bit, pressing you against it, his hand on one side of your head, the other slipping down your bare shoulder, making you gasp. "Now… where were we?"

You're nervous already, your heart hammering in your chest, pulse flaring underneath the brush of his thumb when it brushes behind your ear.

All that bravery out the window, you gotta get it back.

So you smile – real mean.

"I think we were discussing,” your teasing fingers slip down his abdomen, making it tense, his lips parting. “What a little liar you are."

He smirks at that, raising a slutty ass eyebrow and leaning down until his lips are just a breath away. "You’re so mean when you know I could be so sweet to you.”

“You, sweet?”

“Mhm,” he kisses your mouth, just a tease, your nails pressing into your palms at how good it feels. “I think we were discussing me eating your pretty lil cunt."

“Eating my…” He nips at your bottom lip with sharp teeth, leaving little indentations as you gasp out, nails pressing into his shoulders, whines escaping your lips. “My…”

“Pussy, is that better?”

“Maybe,” you sigh into his mouth now, letting him take you over – less frantic than the other night at the club, slower, more deliberate.

He kneels right down, looking up at you, smiling as he watches color blossom on your skin.

“Shouldn’t I be on my knees?” You try to tease.

You’re the one who gives.

You know you can suck dick.

Yet this man loves to throw you the fuck off.

He pushes the little sundress up, bunching it around your waist, usually ruby eyes dark and locked in on the pretty panties you have on, seeing how damp they already are with your sticky arousal. He toys with it a bit, rubbing the stickiness and humming, as your hips arch.

“Sukuna… you’re staring…”

“Fuck yes I am, I didn’t see her that night,” he’s throbbing as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of them, smirking. “Cute lil panties.”

“Mean…”

“I’m serious, who doesn’t love cotton, boring ass panties?”

“Meaner!”

He chuckles and eases them down your thighs until they pull around your ankles, helping you out of them now. “Should I buy you lingerie?”

“Should you?” You manage to tease back – and then he does something your ex-husband never, ever did.

He licks you.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," he murmurs with his mouth full of your juices, more to himself than to you really – your pussy is all puffy and begging for attention, your dress falling now. “Hold it up.”

“Hold it…”

“I said,” he leans in and licks a long, slow stripe up your messy slit, groaning as that taste coats his tongue. “Hold the fuckin’ dress up.”

You do that nervously, your hands slipping into his soft pink hair, tangling in the  strands and tugging as he licks you again, deliberately slow, making you so sensitive. "Sukuna! What…”

“I’m eating as I said,” he throws a thigh over his shoulder, his groan vibrating against you, having your thighs tremble, one pressing against his face as he prepares to bury it. “Taste so sweet for a mean fuckin’ brat.”

“Sukuna…” You’re done for when he drags your ass against his face, his chin pressing on your slutty lil hole, tongue slipping up to your clit, mouth wrapping the twitchy lil thing, it jumps for him.

“Hah,” he laughs softly, teeth nipping it, making you smack at him, just making him harder.

“Don’t bite it!?”

“Have you had your pussy eaten?” He asks again, brows together as he slurps you up. “Be honest.”

“No, okay?” He pauses now, pulling back with little strings of your slick dissolving from too plump lips, fucking you up. “I know.”

“Never?”

“No,” you manage to say. “I’m not inexperienced, just…”

“How he didn’t eat this every day, you baking brownies for this mother fucker and sucking him?”

You sigh.

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck him,” you giggle then, suddenly relaxing a bit. “There you go, ease up – I’ll make you cum, hmm?”

“Please…”

“You’re only sweet when your clit is throbbing,” you scoff, but it’s cut off, when he’s licking you again – messier and messier, devouring you, you’re already so close it’s embarrassing. "Look at you… Feel good, mommy?”

“Swear to god you brat,” you shove his head closer, surprising him and yourself, rolling your hips, chasing more of that high, as he palms his cock, groaning. “There, there! Mnh! S-shut you up… hah…”

“Mmm,” he thinks he’s in love when he laps more of you up, greedy, loud sounds that echo in his room, as he lifts you up and pins your hips on the wall, your thighs on either side of his head.

“I’m gonna fall!”

“You’re not,” he chuckles as he holds you up on that wall, you’re damn near panicking at the strong, giant of a man pinning you. “You can take it, just hold on to my hair.”

“Shit, okay,” you never thought in your late twenties you’d be held up on a wall at this tall ass height like it’s nothing, with a handsome fratboy’s face buried in your cunt.

Yet, here you are.

You care much less about your divorce with every flick of his tastebuds against you, shattering for him as he pushes you over the edge.

“Too much, too much!”

“Shh,” he pulls back a bit, easing you down, his chin is slick with your wetness – face so wet it’s embarrassing. "Already falling apart and I haven't even fucked you yet, huh? So fuckin' sensitive." He picks you up again differently, so that your thighs wrap his hips, carrying you to his bed and laying you down. “Still a little ‘baby’?”

“No,” you admit, whining out when he shoves two thick fingers in your spasming walls, curving them against that spot that makes you see stars, like he’s already learned your body. “Not a baby…”

“That’s what I thought,” he leans over you, kissing you and letting your juices spit right in your mouth, you so eagerly open for him it should be embarrassing.

“Mnh…”

 "He really never did this for you?" He asks then, chuckling as you squirt down his fingers again, dripping dark spots on his blankets.

“N-no,” you mumble, gasping out, dizzy when he yanks his fingers out of your mess, slapping your cunt and making you hiss. “Ah!”

"You still with me, mommy?" he teases, earning your glare.

"Shut up," you mumble, tugging at his zipper and leaning up. "Fuck me, you brat."

“You’re so needy,” his cock is so pretty and thick you whine out, your body sure remembers that challenge.

Oh, you want it again.

“Condom again?” He asks sadly. “I could give you another baby-”

“Sukuna!”

“What, cum would be sexy in your hole,” he spreads it and pouts. “I’m good if you’re worried.”

“Mmm… cumming in me, I…” You blush. “You could pull out?”

“Tragic,” you laugh again, as he runs the fat, reddened head of his cock through your slick folds, nudging your clit to tease you, making you drool even more.

“Fine, condom then.”

“No!? I’ll pull out,” he smirks, thinking of cumming all over your cunt and shoving it back in.

Toxic shit.

You’re already fucking with him.

“Fuck me already – ah!”

“Shut it brat,” he groans when his cock shoves inside deep in one go, feeling how wet you are, still pulsing from cumming earlier.

For a moment, Sukuna just whimpers.

“Did you… whimper?”

“I’ll beat your ass next time,” he glares, biting your neck and grabbing your thighs rough, pushing deeper into you, stretching you out so damn good it burns. “Didn’t whimper, you’re the one squirting all over.”

“Am not – ah!” The fucker slams into you hard, three, four, five times, before yanking out and laughing sadistically, slapping his cock in the squirting mess he’s made your cunt. “Sukuna…”

“So fuckin’ messy, just washed these, tsk,” he’s ruining you with every mean thrust, it’s better than that night.

Even better than he remembered.

No condom, so he can feel the texture of those gummy walls and how they grip him, ruining him with every stroke, shoving your dress higher when you tug it down, making him pause.

“Covering up?” He glares, and you blush, letting him shove it up again. “Wanna see my cock inside you.”

“I have stretch marks and… ah!” He pauses, scowling and gripping your hips. “Sukuna…”

“Don’t start that shit,” he trails his fingers down one, making you suddenly a little emotional, swallowing nervously.

You never thought they’d be called anything but unattractive.

“They’re cute,” he murmurs, breaking you then. “So cute I wanna cum on them, hah.”

You giggle at that. “Slutty ass boy.”

“Now shut up and lemme see you,” he mumbles, already pussy drunk – he throws you in every position – doggy, prone bone, mating press, fucking every memory out of your mind, having you squirt and gush till he pulls out.

He cums all over your skin, painting it in pretty white patterns, until you’re a fucking mess.

It’s hard to leave Sukuna that day, knees wobbly, skin still sticky in places, you swear the man came everywhere.

“So, that titty pic?” He asks then, you laugh, trying to brush out your hair in the mirror, fixing your dress to look presentable.

“I’ll send you one tonight.”

*****

Oh, you send Sukuna titty pics.

Pussy pics.

Soon you get a jerk off video.

Soon he can’t get your pretty self out of his goddamn head, nibbling on cookies you made him last time you came over, when you sucked him dumb and dry, taking all nine inches in your throat like a pro. When you had him whining like a little bitch and fucking your throat till he couldn’t move.

Sukuna stares at a picture now, sighing.

This can’t just be sex – he needs more of you.

*****

Two weeks later

Sukuna's gripping your waist tight with his huge hands, moaning as you glide right down on his cock, stretching your puffy lips right around him as he lays back in the front seat of the car, cursing at how good it feels.

"Sh-shit... slow down, you fuckin' brat..." He's gasping as you quiver right around him, whining out, your lashes fluttering closed.

"Don't have t-time... soccer game, gotta go to..." He slams you down hard then, pinning you and glaring. "I h-have to take him to..."

"It's not till six, will you slow the fuck down," he bites the shit out of you, buried deep in your tacky lil walls, his own eyes closing at how good you feel. "You told me six."

"But it's five and - ngh! Gonna cum, gonna-"

"No you're not," he grins as you gasp out, pinning you and not moving. "Not till I say."

"You're so annoying," you knew fucking a frat boy a good six years younger than you was stupid, but right now as he's attention seeking and pouty? And you know you need to hop right to your damn mini van and clean up before you get your kid?

You know then especially how stupid this is.

If you just didn't get drunk that night and if he didn't lie and say he was twenty eight...

No, you'd have still fucked him. But now? He's clingy.

Every day for two weeks he writes you nonstop, half the time you’re working or with your kid, and you feel guilty indulging. As a mom, that’s all you were really supposed to do, the marriage was supposed to be it for you. Yet here you are, trembling as he bites your skin, his fingers pressing into your hips, rocking that thick cock up inside you.

You loved hearing from him – your lips would curve, your cheeks would heat up, but you tried your best to shove it down, to focus. Your messages quick, you even have avoided him altogether after a particular time when you’d laid in his arms and he held you tight, and you realized you didn’t wanna leave, not at all.

“Me, annoying? You always leave me,” your hands tug at his locks of hair, entangling and pulling at the root, his breath hot as he trails messy kisses down your chest. “Always runnin’ off, why?”

“Have to – busy, mngh….” you shatter with one more push inside you, gasping out at how good it feel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“Wanna go on a date…”

You pause now, blinking as you come down. “What!?”

“Yeah, that so crazy? You barely go anywhere, anyway,” you scoff at that, but it turns into a pathetic little whine as he fucks you faster, leaning back and lifting you up just to drag you back down on it. “Lemme take you out, brat, shit…”

“I can’t, what if – ah! They see me with… younger and…”

“You look my age, just got these,” he grips your hips and smirks. “Maybe they are breedable.”

“You’re hanging out with Gojo too much – ah!”

“Saying someone else’s name while I fuck you? No,” he’s pinning you down now, his tip grazing your sensitive cervix, biting your nipple until it’s bruised.

“Ow!”

“Attention on me,” he orders, as if he’s not desperate and pathetic for you – for just how pretty you are, how good you smell, god even the cookies you bake.

He can’t take it.

“Who’s makin’ you cum like this?” He asks now, a hand on the back of your neck, shoving you down again, tugging your hair at the nape until your juices spill. “Answer me.”

“You,” he smirks – the only sweetness he gets is when you’re fucked out. “You are, Sukuna.”

“So then keep your eyes on me, ah-ah, don’t shut them,” he makes you keep the eye contact, even as your own threaten to flutter closed. “That’s it, gonna make me cum just lookin’ at me.”

“You talk so much shit,” you whisper, but you’re done for when he pulls out, your mess coating him, tip gliding through your slit. “Mnh!”

“Where am I cumming?” He begs to bust inside you, but you’re terrified that somehow you’ll get pregnant or something, even though clearly Sukuna liked that idea.

He was an idiot.

You pull off and he moans.

“Gonna swallow me?”

“Yes,” you whisper, letting him shove the seat back even more as you sink down, lapping your own slick from his veiny shaft.

“God, slutty brat – licking your pussy off like that,” you swirl your tongue around that fat head, he’s jerking he’s so sensitive, cupping your face. “Slutty for me, all for me, huh?”

“You talk a lot when you’re about to cum,” he glares and you suck him, moaning. “Cum, Sukuna, lemme swallow.”

“Mmngh,” he’s not sure what sound you elicit this time, pumping all his cum into your eager mouth, you swallow all of it, greedy with it, moaning around him – so greedy you lap up every drop, cleaning his cock completely. “Look at you, love it, huh? Sucking your cunt off?”

“Maybe,” you admit, flushed when he tugs you back up, kissing his own cum off your mouth.

Sukuna was a freak.

But maybe you were, too.

For him.

You’re kissing messy as your phone alarm goes off, and he’s pouting as you rush over to your minivan – you can’t believe you’re fucking in the car like you’re back in fucking high school or college. He catches you though before you can open the door, turning you and pinning you, tilting your chin up.

“Sukuna I have to-”

“Go on a date with me,” he grunts those words. “No more dick if you won’t.”

“What!? I thought we were fuck buddies?”

“I feel used, like a cheap slut.”

“Maybe you are. Ow!” He’s bit your neck again. “Brat!”

“You go out with me, don’t make me beg, shit,” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Why want to go out with-”

“Did I fuck your milf brain stupid?” You smack him, making him moan – he’s a fucking freak. “God, do that again.”

“No!? Ugh, I’ll go if you stop asking and let me leave, one date,” you sigh then, shaking your head. “It’s dumb though, what if someone tells him and-”

“The man fucking a girl half his age?” You blush at that now. “Sorry we’re not about to compare six years to that.”

“He’ll say something-”

“Let him,” he grins all psychotically. “I’d love to meet him.”

“Oh I bet you would,” you ease back now, looking up at him as you lean against the mini van door. “I’ll go out to dinner, I just need a new sitter.”

“Let Gojo watch-”

“Gojo!? No! He’s not responsible enough!”

“I’ll tell him you think that,” you glare. “Break his twinky little heart.”

“You will not even,” you shove at him now. “I’ll get a sitter for Friday night for a few hours, okay? Dinner or whatever…”

“Good, then you’ll get more dick,” you snort and turn away from him, not before he drags your ass back against him, kissing up your neck, wrapping you too tight.

You have so many feelings already you feel dumb.

A date will make them worse.

Yet, he had a point – why were you holding back, so worried what everyone would think when your husband really did get an entire pass from the world?

“Give me a real goodbye, yeah?” You let him tilt your chin. “Kiss me.”

You do, moaning and arching against him, lost for a moment before pulling back, looking at him. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“Mhm, enjoy your soccer game, mommy,” you bite his lower lip hard, making him tug back as you scowl, hopping in your driver’s seat.

Sukuna is in love when you flip him off pulling out.

*****

“What are you doing here?” Of fucking course – the one date you go on, your damn husband would be there with her.

She’s smiling and giggling, looking at Sukuna who ignores her completely, trying to introduce herself as your husband leans over, talking to you in a hushed tone.

“I’m on a date,” you answer calmly, smiling. “You?”

“Where is our son!?”

“With a fucking sitter, are you serious,” you stand then, scowling as Sukuna tenses up next to you. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Now,” you drag him over to a quieter part of the restaurant, heart racing – tonight had been fun.

Actual fun.

Yeah, Sukuna made you cum, and yeah, he was handsome, but the amount of fun you’ve had tonight alone? Even the drive there?

You haven’t felt that shit in years.

You’re not letting your ex fuck it up.

“What the hell is your problem?” you whisper – once you’re away from all the people just trying to have dinner, in one of the hallways leading to the bathrooms.

“My problem? You’re on a date, with a kid!?” He glares over at Sukuna, who’s sitting at your table, calmly sipping the whiskey you’d ordered for him, his eyes fixed on the two of you rather than your ex husband’s girlfriend, who is desperately trying to get noticed. “With our son with a sitter, so you can go out and have fun?”

“Like you don’t! You only have him four days a month!”

“Because you’re a mother, I’m…”

“The dad!?”

“Exactly, it’s not okay for you.”

You scoff then, in disgust as you look up at him, narrowing your eyes.

“He’s twenty-two, and I’m ten years younger than you, how can you say anything about age to me? When there’s a whole child over there.”

“Really?” He flinches as if you’ve wounded him, brows drawing together now, trying to make you feel guilty like he always used to.

It doesn't work anymore.

“That’s not fair. This is about our son. I don’t want some random guy around him.”

“He’s not met him, but you lost the right to have an opinion on who I spend my time with the second you decided to stick your dick in the babysitter,” he glares now – that whole show gone from his face, leaning low over you.

“As if you can keep a man, with how you are? Taking care of yourself now I see, you didn’t dress up for me, did you?”

“Because you made me hate myself,” you whisper, tears stinging your eyes. “You made me insecure, and feel less than.”

“Get some dick and think you’re the hottest?”

“I did finally get to cum,” you admit, smiling all mean right at him now, making him scowl. “And I got eaten out, so I do feel good, yeah.”

“As if you-”

“I’ve had enough,” you cut him off now. “You wanted to be done with me, you wanted to move on – you get it. We will only talk about our son, other than that? It’ll be like we were never together, it’s what you wanted.”

“Wait,” he grips your wrist, irritating you more. “Just wait, shit… maybe,” he looks across your body now. “Maybe I didn’t give you enough attention, but if I knew you could look this good? I wouldn’t have just been with her-”

“You were with her before!?” He sighs, shutting his eyes now. “During…”

“Maybe I gave up too fast, and-”

“No,” you clear your throat, shoving past him now. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For leaving me,” you say, smiling – even though the shit hurts. “It’s the best thing you’ve done besides give me my son.”

He calls your name but it’s too late, you look over at the girl you now know fucked your man, during your marriage – but you feel bad for her if anything, especially when Sukuna outright ignores her, and your husband is stomping back over.

“I hope you get better than him,” you say to her quietly, she blinks, looking your way. “Good luck with that for now, though.”

“I…”

“Let’s go,” he yanks her away, leaving you to take a breath, as Sukuna’s hand brushes across your upper thigh.

“Hey, everything okay?” 

“It’s fine now,” you open your eyes and look at him, picking up that glass of wine and downing half of it in one go. “Just some shit left unsaid – ex-husband drama.”

“Figured it was,” he says, his eyes flicking over to where your ex is now standing awkwardly with his girlfriend, who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“She must think you’re hot.”

“She’s not my type,” you giggle now, as his eyes level at you. “What, surprised?”

“She’s pretty, all sweet, bouncy and happy-”

“Maybe I like mean ass, twenty eight year old moms,” you snort at that, rolling your eyes. “Ones who fuck me and t hen run off.”

“I shouldn’t run off on you,” you admit softly, your hand over his, making his own heart race.

Fuck you look pretty right now.

“He looks like he cries after he cums,” you gasp.

“What!?”

“Can he even keep it hard?”

“It wasn’t much to write home about,” you admit, laughing now.

“Small dick and didn’t eat pussy?”

“Sukuna! Oh my god, you’re horrible.”

“Nah, just observant,” he leans forward, all his attention on you – as if the rest of the restaurant, including your shitty, fuming ex isn’t even there. “You handled that shit, fuck… it was so hot to see you put him in his place.”

“It was?” You ask then, softly.

“It was,” you sigh, kissing him right in front of whoever could see. “Made me leak precum.”

“God!”

He throws back his head, laughing like a damn psycho, earning plenty of looks he doesn’t seem to care about.

You fucking really like this psycho too don’t you?

You daresay you fell that night – but Sukuna’s conceited ass didn’t need to know that just yet.

“I wanna keep having fun with you tonight,” you whisper, eyes flickering as he cups your face.

“Then we will.”

*****

You make sure your son is asleep and the babysitter is paid before you let Sukuna in, the door that opens right to your bedroom, giggling as you put a finger to his lips as he moans, trying to kiss you that night.

“Shh,” you whisper, tugging him in and locking the door. “If you wake him up I’ll beat you.”

“Please?”

“Freak,” you kiss him again, sighing as he takes over your entire room with just how big he is, memories scattered across the room you once shared with your husband.

How long had he done it?

How long did he not care?

The thoughts clearly get to you – Sukuna pulls back, looking and swallowing a bit nervously, tilting his head as he cups your face, your hands on his wrists, quiet in the dark of your room.

“He’s across the house but we still need to be-”

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh now, shaking your head, making his lips press together.

“Tell me now, brat.”

“Just some things he said, got me in my head,” you blink tears, one rushing across his thumb. “I don’t wanna ruin the night.”

“You won’t,” he murmurs, stepping back now, taking off his shoes, his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and studying you. “No dick tonight.”

“Rude!?” He snorts, walking to you once he’s in his boxers, turning you to unzip your dress, letting it fall, leaving you just in the little pair of panties you had – ones he ordered you.

“You wore them, huh?”

“Yeah,” you let him tug you against him. “Why no dick?”

“You’re upset,” your heart falters now.

No way a frat boy understood you better than your man ever did.

Then again, Sukuna was a real man – your ex?

A boy in his thirties.

“What’d the dumb fuck say?”

“Just that no one will stay,” you choke up just a bit as he grips you so tight it hurts, exhaling. “You should head home, or I’ll go sleep in the-”

“No.”

“But I’m a mess,” you turn and he sees your tears, so fucking mad he can’t think. “I’m crying, it’s not sexy.”

“I’m not leaving,” he says again, softer now. “Get in bed.”

“Oh,” you murmur, climbing into the bed, sniffling when he slides under the covers, wrapping you in his big arms, your tears falling on tanned skin, letting him kiss up your cheek, to your temple. “You don’t have to just hold me.”

“Maybe I want to, always leaving me and shit,” you sigh. “Mean mommy.”

“Swear to god, I’ll kick you,” he snorts, kissing your lips again, making you melt in his hold. “Thank you, Sukuna.”

“Mhm, make me breakfast in the morning,” you giggle, sniffling again as you snuggle against his chest. “Pancakes, mmm. Will you?”

“I will, absolutely. I guess you can meet my kid.”

“Is he a brat like you?”

“He’s worse.”

*****

“STRANGER DANGER!”

“OW – SHIT, BRAT WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!”

Oh…

Fuck.

That wakes you up out of a dead sleep as you realize with horror – your son just met your… kind of new boyfriend!? – before you could even introduce him.

“I’ll beat you, mommy! Are you OKAY!?”

“You’re mommy is fine you little shit, ow! Stop kicking me before I head lock your little ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare, crossing your arms and raising a brow at Sukuna as your kid kicks him again, making you shout his name.

“Sorry mommy,” they both say, making you sigh, walking over and picking your son up, letting him hug you as Sukuna rubs his sore shins.

“It’s okay, Sukuna is, well…” You sigh, setting him down now, looking into his eyes as you get to his level. “He may be mommy’s new boyfriend.”

“I am!?”

“He is!?”

“What’s that mean, kid?” Sukuna shoves at him again, you smack at his hand.

“No pancakes.”

“But-”

“Be nice,” he grumbles an apology, as you look at your son again, smiling. “Mommy has been pretty sad since everything, and he’s made me very happy. Is it okay if he hangs out for breakfast?”

“Can I kick him again?”

“You have a demon child!” Your son laughs and your lips quirk up, affection and something more for Sukuna really tugging at you as you see his flushed cheeks.

Damn you may be really falling for a fratboy.

What sort of quarterlife crisis was this, really?

Well, whatever it was – you are going to enjoy it.

“Say hi, and I’ll cook you both breakfast,” you stand up and put a hand on Sukuna’s shoulder, smiling sleepily as he puts one at your waist for a brief moment. “Good morning, Sukuna.”

“Morning – he attacked me, jumped on me and shit,” your kid sticks his tongue out at the big man. “Does he not get his ass beat? You gentle parenting?”

“I am indeed gentle parenting,” you shove him playfully. “Go wash up before breakfast, baby.”

“Yes mommy!”

“Acting all nice now,” Sukuna’s eyes narrow, you go to cook when he pauses you. “Am I really your boyfriend?”

“If you wanna be, yeah,” he grins all big – achingly cute before he decides to be a perv and pinch your ass instead. “Hey!”

“What a dumb question…” He kisses you quick, sighing against your lips, tummy growling.

“I better feed your ass – go sit.”

“Yes, mom-”

“Sukuna!?”

“Ahem – yeah fine, brat,” he can’t stop the grin on his face – not even when your kid fucks with him again, you look way too cute cooking in the kitchen.

Sukuna could be a stepdad, right?

Beat some sense into your kid, and give you another <3