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⭑.ᐟ ────── 0.3k words,inspired by freckles are were past lover has kissed you, nanami x reader, fluff, skinship, slightly suggestive, f!reader (no use of pronouns), kissing, established relationship, proofread but still may have errors
If someone were to ask Kento Nanami on a whim, to name his favourite part about you he'd answer without a doubt: Your freckles.
There wasn't one that was placed upon your body that hadn't been touched by his lips. Even the ones in the most uniquest of places, only if you'd let him.
He usually gave them their daily dose of loving whenever you were lazying around cuddling, head resting upon his chest. when The tv playing a show neither of you were really watching.
It started by slowly tugging you so you were fully laying upon his lap, legs laying atop of his.Back pressing against his chest. His hands sliding around to the bottom of your hoodie, fingers grazing the skin underneath, making goosebumps rise.
"Can I?"
"Yeah."
He slips it over your head, placing it on the cushion unoccupied.
Fingers gently tugging your hair to the side to get better access. His lips delicately placing kisses upon your shoulder blades, through your shirt.
Having already mapped out the placement of them. The sensation left you shivering, as every touch left your body feeling warm.
"Y'know, these marks are where your past lover once kissed you."
Saying it in a way that made it seem like a true fact and not something that circles the Internet as a way to romanticize life. Although out of the many things that did stem from that untrustworthy source, it was one you were more inclined to believe, even if it was silly.
Biceps now getting the dose of love.
"He must've really loved me then,"
Giggling as you watch him pause as a slight crease in his brow beginning to form. Eyes staring directly at you, daring you to say something else.
"But not as much as you."
He hummed satisfied with your response as he continued doting on your arms, ending at the knuckles of your hands.
Nanami turned you around so that you faced him, legs straddling either side of his thighs.
His final target was your face, peppering any place he could with the delicate touch of his mouth. Eyebrows, eyes, nose, cheeks were all graced. Saving his favourite for last (other than your freckles of course). Cupping your face bringing it closer, mouths molding together.
⭑.ᐟ ────── authors note: ive posted this before but hated how it turned out so this is a rewrite, if it does sound familiar.
Telling your husband you’re pregnant (but he already knew)
The results were undeniable. Around fifteen minutes ago, you had taken a pregnancy test.
You’d only taken it because your period was later than usual, and you wanted to know why. Never did you expect two bright pink lines to be staring back at you.
The past ten minutes, you’d been pacing around the bathroom, running your hands anxiously through your hair.
You and Gojo had been married for nearly two years now. Life was great. The two of you were deeply in love and felt unbreakable.
What would he think? Would Gojo want to become a father?
This was absolutely terrifying.
Currently, your husband wasn’t home. He was still at work, but he’d likely be home at any second now. You held your head in your hands, muttering curses under your breath.
A baby would change everything. Having Gojo’s child would put a big red target on your back.
Was being a mother even something you wanted?
You gasped at the sound of the front door opening from downstairs.
“Sweetie? I’m home!” Gojo called out after not seeing you in the living room to greet him like usual.
With trembling hands, you scooped the pregnancy test off of the counter and looked at your face in the mirror.
A hand reached up to fix your hair and make you look put together. You even practiced a smile.
After a couple minutes of hyping yourself up, you finally left the bathroom. You had tucked the pregnancy test in your back pocket so Gojo wouldn’t see it right away.
The steps creaked under your weight as you slowly descended down the staircase, returning to the main floor of the house.
Gojo smiled the second he saw you. He was already plopped down on the couch in your living room. You saw that he was also still dressed in his uniform, rocking his signature blindfold along with it.
“I stopped by the new bakery that opened in Tokyo and bought a bunch of sweets for us to try,” Gojo told you. That man had an insane sweet tooth.
“At this hour?” You replied, taking another couple of steps forward.
Gojo shrugged in confusion as if the time didn’t even matter. In his world, it was never too late for sweets.
You bit your bottom lip, shifting your weight on your feet. All of it was you attempting to build up the courage to spoil the news to him. It was horrifying to you for whatever reason.
Before you could get any words out, Gojo saw the obviously troubled expression on your face. He was always good at reading people. It actually got annoying sometimes.
You noticed the shift in his playful demeanor when he realized you had something on your mind.
“Is everything okay?” He asked.
You opened your mouth to speak, yet again, nothing managed to come out.
Gojo was patient, waiting for you to say what you needed to say.
You realized that you were starting to tear up without meaning to. This whole thing was a fucking nightmare. The two of you hadn’t even spoken about having children!
You snatched the test from your back pocket abruptly. Wimping out wasn’t an option right now. It was either now or never.
“I’m pregnant,” you announced quickly in an attempt to just rip off the bandaid.
Unsteady hands held the test in front of your husband, nervously awaiting his reaction. It was irritating how he didn’t react right away.
Gojo gently took the test in his hands, smiling. There was no big reaction. Not like you were expecting. Then, he looked back up at you.
“I know.”
Confusion took over your mind at his words. He knew? How? You’d literally just found out two minutes ago.
“What do you mean you know?” You spoke harsher than you might have intended. You hadn’t anticipated for it to go this way.
“I mean I knew. I knew the second it happened.”
There was nothing but silence from you again as you tried to figure this all out. “But-”
Gojo cut you off, standing up slowly. He wasn’t alarmed whatsoever. A part of you was thankful for that.
“I sensed a change in your cursed energy a few weeks ago. I didn’t say anything because I figured you’d wanna find out on your own,” he informed, moving closer to you. Gojo reached out to take your hand.
You didn’t pull away. You just kinda stood there. Of course. His six eyes technique never let anything slide. You felt dumb for not figuring it out sooner.
“So what? You knew I was pregnant and you didn’t think to tell me? Is that why I couldn’t find the wine last night?” You scoffed. He must’ve hidden the alcohol to prevent you from drinking it. It felt wrong to just let you drink when he knew better. Even if you didn’t.
Your husband had a dumb smile plastered on his face. “Well..” he scratched the back of his head.
You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he’d keep something like this from you.
On the other hand, however, you were thankful Gojo let you find out on your own terms. He knew normalcy was important to you. Even in a world where nothing was fully normal for either of you.
Gojo saw your annoyance and began ranting instantly.
“You don’t know how hard it was not to tell you! I wanted to tell you so bad! Really! But I.. kinda, sorta told Shoko and she said you might wanna find out on your own! So.. I just wanted to do the right thing!” He rambled on and on.
It was kind of cute. Gojo was excited like a little kid. Staying annoyed was impossible.
You chuckled, shaking your head.
“So you’re happy?” You asked, feeling your anxiety melt away.
Gojo smiled, nodding before lifting you into his arms for a big hug. He spun you around while holding you close.
“Careful!” You laughed.
Your husband put you back down gently before planting a kiss on the top of your head.
“You’re gonna be the crankiest pregnant woman ever. I’m already imagining it,” he teased. “I can’t wait.”
your boyfriend always gets flustered when you kiss his neck
megumi is incredibly touch deprived, especially so around his neck and throat.
obviously, you love using that fact to your advantage.
and as much as he protests that he hates it, he and you both know that he loves it.
the other night, you two were laying in his bed as he went on a nerdy rant about pokemon. his arm was loosely wrapped around your waist, your head resting against his chest.
despite how much you love hearing him talk about subjects he was passionate about, you were growing a little bored of his chatter and decided to tease him a little.
you tilted your head up, pressing soft, slow kisses to the side of his neck, and the sensitive spots around his ear.
“so it’s- ah.. i mean, th-the water types and fire types- uh..” megumi stammers quietly, entire train of thought completely wrecked.
he feels you grin against his skin, amused with yourself. “quit it.” he mumbles.
you hum, innocently glancing up at him. “mm, sorry. what were you saying?” you ask, smiling sweetly.
“you don’t care.” he grumbles, not looking at you.
“don’t say that.” you lower your head to his neck again, gently mouthing at his soft skin.
he releases a soft, shaky breath, voice low and controlled. “… if you wanted me to pay attention to you, you coulda just said.”
you don’t reply, continuing to gently suck at his neck, trailing down to his collarbone. he shivers, bringing a hand to the back of your head, keeping you there.
“feels good.” he murmurs, voice a low vibration in your ear.
you just smile, satisfied in knowing that your boyfriend would melt for you at such an easy touch.
rain softly tapped against the window while you were folded under a blanket on the couch, fast asleep.
satoru walks in, drenched from the rain. he shrugged off his soaked jacket and kicked off his shoes. he sighed, walking into the living room,
“baby, im home.” he calls out softly.
silence.
he frowned, that was unusual.
“baby?” he calls out again.
silence again.
it was only 5pm. there was no way you’re sleeping, satoru thought, until he saw you.
laying there like a cat, your lips slightly parted, both hands under your head.
“god baby..” he murmured, unable to hold back the smile forming on his face. he crouched down beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.
youu looked so soft, so peaceful. he couldnt remember the last time he has seen you like this. no cute pouty lips or furrowed brows. just you... he couldn’t help himself.
his thumb traced your cheek just for a second before he leaned down, softly and carefully pressing a light kiss to your forehead.
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your big boyfriend always leaves you sore between your legs 𐦍
fluff/ light smut
you thought you’d be used to having a big boyfriend by now — six foot three, body sculpted by the gods, dick big and heavy (and he knew it).
the morning after he’d fucked you stupid, you’re used to having a little tenderness between your legs. it was normal to you. expected.
that’s not to say it wasn’t close to agonising sometimes.
"y’okay, sweets?" satoru asks as you wake, cuddling up to you as soon as he catches a glimpse of discomfort on your face.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder, watching you clutch your lower stomach. "mhm, just sore," you reply.
you were a little more than sore, but he didn’t need to know that.
satoru nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, then rolls you over so you’re flat on the bed. "my poor baby. lemme see."
there wasn’t an ounce of mock-sympathy in his voice — just pure love and affection.
you let him pull your shorts down, placing them beside you. he kisses your knee before parting your legs, gaze focused on your pussy. it’s like you could still feel him down there, the soreness and weight of him still lingering.
satoru hums as he parts your folds, pussy still slightly puffy and red, most of the pain on the inside near your cervix. "m’sorry, princess," he says, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your clit.
"mm, i have such a big, mean boyfriend" you respond with a faint smile.
satoru giggles, then slides your shorts back onto you, gathering you in his strong arms to give you all his love and attention. "soooo mean," he says, kissing you all over your face with exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds.
after cuddling you for a little while, he grabs you your heating pad, placing it on your lower stomach before drawing you a hot bath. and of course, he orders you copious amounts of food and unnecessary gifts.
"you don’t have to do all this, toru. i’m okay," you say, watching him saunter back over to you with that infamous casual confidence, gathering you in his arms and walking you over to the bathroom.
"shhh," he hushes, sitting you on the ledge of the bath and helping you undress, "always gonna take care of my princess."
he pauses for a second, allowing a moment of silence before breaking it again. "suchhhhh a shame i have such a massive di-"
you cut him off with a glare as he climbs behind you into the bath, shortly after setting you down in it.
⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ! | okay first off, WHY is this SO FUCKIN EMOTIONAL for no absolute reason. damn. consider this a 1000 follower special! likes & reblogs are appreciated! 𖹭
[𝜗ৎ] 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 2.9𝗄
𝓜𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏!
my husband hates me.
the thought settles deep in your chest like a stone, familiar and heavy, as you lie on the silk sheets of the massive bed.
your fingers trace the embroidered patterns on your robe—some floral design you can't see but can feel beneath your fingertips. the fabric is soft, expensive. everything here is expensive. everything here screams luxury and power and wealth.
but none of it screams love.
you hear nothing from his side of the bed.
the man is so impossibly quiet, it makes your skin prickle with unease. you've been here for three months now. three months as the wife of ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, the most feared ruler in all the lands. and in those three months, he has barely spoken a word to you.
at first, you thought it was a game.
some twisted test of patience. you were clever enough to know that political marriages were rarely about love. you'd been prepared for indifference, for coldness, for a husband who saw you as nothing more than a strategic alliance.
but this? this silent treatment that stretches night after night, this deliberate distance he keeps?
it cuts deeper than you expected.
your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.
princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.
they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.
you were used to it.
but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.
and you'd felt hope.
you hate yourself for that hope now.
because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.
but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?
it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.
the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.
but you can't navigate him.
you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.
tonight was bad.
you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.
then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.
and the whispers.
you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.
"the blind empress."
"does he even notice her?"
"i heard he hasn't touched her once."
"what a waste of a pretty face."
"she must be so lonely."
"she must be so pathetic."
you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.
but inside, you were crumbling.
and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.
does he ever sleep?
you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.
a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.
and you can't take it anymore.
"ryomen?"
your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.
silence.
you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.
just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.
"what."
it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.
you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.
"i...i want to ask you something."
more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.
"ask."
you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.
"do you hate me?"
the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.
"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?
"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"
"stop."
the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.
but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.
and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.
you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.
"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"
"quiet."
his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.
"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"
you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.
a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.
"open your eyes."
the command catches you off guard. "what?"
"your eyes. open them."
you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.
"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."
"i can't see you."
"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."
please.
the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?
you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.
"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."
your heart stutters. "then why—"
"because i'm fuckin' terrified."
you blink. "what?"
"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."
"but—"
"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"
his voice drops to a whisper.
"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."
tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.
but he was...
...afraid?
"you don't hate me?" you whisper.
"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."
a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.
"but you never—you never talked to me—"
"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."
"then don't stop."
the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.
"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."
sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.
"you don't know what you're asking."
"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."
"i'll hurt you."
"i don't care."
"i'll break you."
"i don't care."
his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.
the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.
he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.
he pulls back, breathless.
"tell me to stop, and i will."
"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."
he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.
"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."
your breath catches. "ryomen—"
"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."
you nod, unable to speak.
his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.
"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."
you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.
"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."
he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.
"more," you gasp. "please—"
"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."
he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.
"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"
"yes," you whimper. "only you."
he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.
"tell me what you want."
"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."
his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"
"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"
"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."
he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.
and then his tongue touches you.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.
"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."
he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.
"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."
his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.
you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.
"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."
his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.
"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"
"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."
he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.
"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"
"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."
he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.
"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."
"okay."
"promise me."
"i promise."
he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.
he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.
"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."
you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.
just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.
"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."
he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—
a sharp pain.
fuck...you forgot.
you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.
"did i hurt ya'?"
you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.
blood.
his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.
"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"
you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"
"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."
"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."
"you're fuckin' bleeding."
"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.
he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."
but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.
when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.
"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."
"move," you beg. "please."
he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.
"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"
"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"
"yes—yes—"
his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.
"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."
he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.
"more," you gasp. "harder—"
"y'sure?"
"yes—please—"
he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.
"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"
"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"
he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.
at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.
he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.
"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."
you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.
"i love you too."
a long moment passes. then another. and then—
"we're going to do that again."
you laugh, breathless.
"right now?"
"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."
"promise?"
he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.
"promise."
you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.
"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."
distracting toji while he's on the phone...♡ (rough!toji x sweet!fem reader)
tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.
its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.
"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."
meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.
your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.
"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.
you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.
the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.
then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.
his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"
by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.
youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.
the silence on the other end of the call stretches.
"...you still there?" the guy asks.
toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.
"yeah." he says "keep talkin."
but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.
toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.
sukuna takes you to the beach so you can lay on your tummy! ft: pregnant reader & whipped sukuna <3
notes: i feel like sukuna would be very territorial and protective of you while you're pregnant cus now not only is he protecting his wife but also his kid?! anyway i'd love to see him chilling there too <3 i think he'd have fun at the beach... if he let himself -_-
if there was one thing you exceeded at, it'd be sending your dear husband's blood pressure soaring to astronomical heights, and you took pride in being the one person to evoke such emotions in the man most considered heartless
currently, you're walking by the shore while sukuna trudges behind you, carrying all your necessities for the day with ease underneath the hot, scorching sun. you keep one hand over the swell of your stomach while admiring the view before suddenly stopping, and sukuna drops your belongings onto the sand beside you a moment later as you deem this spot perfect aloud for him
"four bags. you brought four bags for what, woman?" he growls, pinching your cheek as you squeal. he lets go eventually, already dropping onto his knees as he begins carving into the sand with determination set in his gaze, and you lower yourself carefully and wiggle your toes in the sand right after
"thank you for bringing me here." you sigh happily, and he merely grunts in response. you watch his large hands dig skillfully into the ground as he works. it's a hot summer day, and you're nearly three quarters of the way through your pregnancy.
sukuna had found you crying, as he often did these past few months simply due to mood swings, and through a garbled confession filled with tears and whining, he learned your sadness came from the fact that you couldn't lay on your stomach anymore—and, well, that just wouldn't do.
it didn't take him long to figure out a way you could relax while still being safe for the baby, but once he did, he quite literally dressed you in a sundress himself before renting out a beach for the two of you to relax on. to say you were happy was an understatement: you were absolutely ecstatic
"the things i do for you... stupid woman. stupid, lovely woman." he mumbles irritated, and you tilt your head down to peer up at him through your sunglasses before offering him a dazzling grin. sukuna stares right back, utterly unimpressed
once he's carved out a suitable crater for you to lay your stomach in, he helps you get adjusted, relaxing only when he sees you smile
"lay with me!"
—and so he does. he lies right beside you, squinting up at the sun as he sighs loudly
"it's too fucking bright out here." he complains, throwing an arm over his eyes as you hum noncommittally, breathing in the fresh smell of the sea. you feel so comfortable you could fall asleep—and while you do spend some time drifting between dreamland and consciousness, sukuna nudges you gently about a half an hour later
"nooo," you whine, digging yourself further into the sand while you hear him snort
"you'll regret not looking up," he murmurs, and you raise your head from your arms with a huff as he gently takes hold of your chin and tilts it towards the water. your brows furrow in confusion before a gasp slips past your lips when you see a mother sea lion with her baby relaxing by the shore
"oh my god," you say, eyes round as your gaze glasses over in an instant, and sukuna watches your lips form an annoyingly adorable pout
"oh, for fuck's sake, please don't start crying again." he groans, but even when he hears the little sniffles that escape your lips a moment later, he doesn't hesitate to pull you against him. thankfully, sukuna's large enough for you to collapse against him and be supported by his arms alone entirely
"adorable... so, do you think it's a baby boy or girl?"
sukuna bristles at your question before his gaze snaps down towards you
"what?"
"i said do you think it's a girl or a boy." you repeat, poking his cheek as he gently swats away your hand. sukuna's brows furrow as if he's thinking carefully about what to say next, and you listen closely for his response before he murmurs the word quietly
"...a girl."
you hum, and his eyes narrow as he stares at you
"what about you?" he questions, and you tap your chin in thought
"i think it's a boy. i don't know why—i guess it has a bit of a boyish look. but i'm sure girl sea lions and boy ones look the same, yes?"
sukuna pales once he realizes you were in fact not talking about the baby in your stomach but rather the fat baby sea lion residing about a hundred feet from the two of you instead
"what the f—you never—what?!"
"i'm pretty sure male sea lions are bigger too, and that one looks like a pretty big baby! it must be! you should thank me, ryo. because of me, you still get to learn new things here and there." you say proudly, nuzzling back against his chest contentedly as he fights back the string of curses lying heavy on the curve of his tongue
"you're so..." he starts, words tapering off into a growl as you peer up at him through your lashes innocently
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in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have asked a question you didn’t want the answer to.
"soo… how many women have you even slept with?" you ask, slipping it into conversation since you were on the topic. you’ve been with toji for over two years now, you know about his past, you know he’s no saint — especially when it comes to women.
but you find yourself wondering far too often how many women your boyfriend has satisfied, how many women he’s had moaning his name whilst he fucks them stupid. the past is the past, you know that.
you just didn’t want to wonder anymore.
“you ain’t gonna like the answer,” toji responds, one arm around you as you sit curled up together on the couch in front of the TV.
you feel your stomach drop, heart beating faster in your chest. the thought of him with another woman makes you sick to your stomach — never mind possibly hundreds of them.
you begin to understand the saying "curiosity killed the cat.”
"…can you just give me a number?" you ask gingerly, unknowingly holding your breath as you await his answer. “didn’t know it mattered to you," he responds gruffly, eyes glued to the TV like this was some casual conversation.
you remove his hand from your shoulder, shuffling away a few inches with a faint pout on your face. you knew this was slightly unfair to him. he can’t change his past, but why wouldn’t he just tell you the number?
you finally catch his attention, hearing him huff as he turns to look at you. "cmon, doll. y’just askin’ shit you don’t wanna know." he pulls you closer again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
you move away again, still frustrated, digging yourself into a deeper hole. "but why can’t you just tell me?"
your older boyfriend sighs again, not so much in irritation, mainly because he knew any answer he gave you would upset you in some way.
“i don’t have a number to give you. not like i counted," toji says, pausing the TV to give you his full attention. he pats his lap invitingly, "cmere."
you hesitantly climb into his lap. two large hands find your hips, securing you there like you might run away. “don’t work y’self up over it. you’re the one who matters to me. not them."
you nod, leaning in and burying your face in toji’s neck, melting into his lap. he rubs your back reassuringly, kissing your temple.
you stay like that for a moment, safe in his arms, reminding yourself that you are the woman he loves — his past was practically meaningless. "m’sorry for getting jealous," you say quietly, breaking the silence.
"you’re hot when you’re jealous," he purrs, threading his fingers through your soft hair. "s’okay. gonna remind my pretty girl how much i love her," he adds, cock hardening beneath you.
a needy whine escapes you, two hands fisting the collar of his shirt. "please…"
he’ll fuck you until your intrusive thoughts were long gone — until you had no coherent thoughts left at all.
mdni. themes; age gap, toji x female reader, slow sex, sleepy sex, spooning, cockwarming, creampie.
some nights you got so restless that it was unbearable. you lay there for hours on end, squeezing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to drift off to sleep — seemingly having no luck.
even wrapped in your older boyfriend’s arms, it was impossible some nights. tonight being one of them.
toji’s firm chest was pressed against your back, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. he’d fallen asleep over an hour ago, leaving you wide awake and bored out of your mind.
unfortunately for toji, he was a light sleeper most of the time, constantly alert or on guard. so of course, he feels you squirm against him, sighing loudly as you somewhat give up on trying to sleep.
toji furrows his brows, opening one eye, easily woken up by your movements. “quit movin’," he grumbles, pulling his arm around you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“mm, can’t sleep," you respond, exhaling loudly again. toji drifts back to sleep easily, leaving you restless and bored once more.
you adjust your position, pushing your ass against him further. it was innocent enough at first, until you instinctively started grinding back against him, feeling his dick harden more and more with each movement.
toji’s eyes open again, a low groan escaping him as you continue to move your hips. “needy girl, need me t’ fuck you back to sleep? that what you want?"
his voice was deep and gravelly, slightly raspy from having just woken up — the sound only makes your cunt throb impatiently, desperate to be filled by toji’s thick cock.
"mngh, please—" you whine, feeling him begin to kiss the side of your neck lazily, hands making their way up your his oversized shirt. "yeah, i know, baby," he mumbles against your neck, squeezing your tits using two hands before trailing them lower, reaching your pussy.
you were already completely soaked.
something about the way his warm body pressed against you, hands exploring your body whilst he was half asleep, had you needier than ever.
he circles your clit lazily with two fingers, then plunges them into your cunt, curling them upwards so skilfully — so deliciously.
“fuck, don’t even need t’ warm you up. pretty cunts’ already drippin’ for me, huh?"
you nod feverishly, tilting your head back against his shoulder, giving him access to your throat as he withdraws his fingers, making you mewl from the loss of sensation.
"need it, please — now," you beg quietly, hearing him shimmy his sweatpants down, thick, throbbing cock slapping against your ass.
"shhh, s’okay. gonna give it to you," toji coos, lining his leaky tip up with your entrance.
without wasting a second, he pushes in, groaning sleepily into your ear as he bottoms out inside of you. you gasp quietly, beginning to rock against him, fucking yourself on his dick.
he places one hand on your hip, the other making its way around to rub slow circles over your clit.
“stay still, doll. just relax f’me, let me do the work," he rasps, rolling his hips against you, effortlessly hitting all the right spots.
you moan breathily, shutting your eyes as he fucks you to sleep. “mph, toji— feels s’good," you moan, opening your legs slightly wider, granting him more access.
“that’s my good girl, squeezin’ me so tight," he purrs.
you rarely saw this side of him when it came to intimacy. slow, gentle — deep strokes that had your eyes rolling back.
it was heaven on earth.
his thrusts remained unhurried, though his fingers quickened their pace, circling your swollen bud. "m’so— aghnn— close," you moan, becoming more fatigued with each dizzying roll of his hips.
“cum f’me, baby. thereee we go."
with a few more deep thrusts, the tension within you snaps, you clench around his cock, whimpering his name and clenching the sheets below you.
“gonna fill you up, keep you— hah— nice n’ full all night," he groans, spilling his load into your warm cunt seconds after.
based on how quiet and boneless you were, he assumed you’d fallen asleep. he doesn’t pull out, leaving both his warm load and fat cock stuffed inside you until the morning.
he presses one last kiss to your neck, then passes out soon after, cock beginning to soften inside you.
shouta "fuck it, i'll wing fatherhood" aizawa is the type of man who will shamelessly tear off the condom mid fuck.
he's got you right where he wants you - helplessly pinned down in the meanest prone bone, his body an intimidating cage above and cock plowing into your cunt from behind. but that damn thing is in the way, the latex barrier that eliminates the most vulnerable level of intimacy. "alright," he withdraws momentarily. "this fucking thing has got to go."
it's admittedly hot - the frustration in his tone and lack of restraint when it comes to pounding your pussy spikes your arousal. he rips the condom off, tossing it aside and not caring where it lands. and once that thick cock sinks back into indescribable warmth, all is right in his universe. "that's, fuck. much better."
his hips falter on their own, struggling to find a rhythm that isn't outwardly rough and carnal. "feels so much better, yeah? fuck, can't slow down when your pussy feels this good." your raw pussy has him tumbling towards his orgasm, muscles contracting to prepare himself for the force of his release - a mind bending climax that could only be achieved inside his pretty girl's irresistible bare pussy.
shouta doesn't know why he bothers to purchase condoms anymore when they've put a damper on his sex life. "your pull out game isn't the greatest," you remind him. "yeah, you're right." he runs his hand through his hair, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment only for you to prove your point. "well, maybe if you actually tried to pull out on time."
✮⋆˙. (▀▀̮▀) The strongest teaches you how to squirt . . .
You wanted to learn how to squirt.
Like, you really wanted to learn.
Being all over Twitter didn't help you either, as there's always somebody asking, oh, “ how do you squirt?” Or, “guys, I just learned how to squirt for the first time and I've never felt so much better.” And you just can't help but get FOMO.
Okay yeah sure, every time Gojo fucks you really good, it feels amazing, but something's missing.
He's already done everything in the book with you, with a few concepts here and there untouched, but you always end up satisfied, so you never dwelled on it.
You just really, really wanted to try feeling something new.
You already tried to do it yourself countless times, but your fingers could never reach the spots that he does, especially since his are significantly longer than yours.
So when he's currently fucking you and training your pussy to be more sensitive, it seems you finally get the hang of it.
“Mngh— fuck toru that…feels s’good..”
Gojo's long fingers curl deep inside your soaked pussy, his thumb pressing and pushing hard against your swollen clit with constant pressure.
He watched your face intently, bright blue eyes focusing on your pretty face as your walls flutter around his digits.
"Thaaat's it, baby," he murmurs, voice low and rough against your ear.
"You said you wanted to learn, yeah?"
His pace kept quickening as both fingers pumped into you steady, scissoring slightly on each thrust to stretch you open while his palm slaps wetly against your mound.
Your hips buck up off the bed, chasing the overwhelming sensation slowly building low in your belly.
Every stroke drags against that sensitive spot inside you, sending heatwaves through your body.
Gojo moves down, sucking one of your nipples right into his mouth. He bites down just hard enough to make you whine out, before soothing the sting with his tongue.
His free hand pins your thigh wider, keeping you spread for him as he works through your pussy harder.
Your breath comes out in short gasps when the pressure inside you grows almost unbearable, feeling like a tight coil getting tighter and tighter before releasing itself.
Your pussy clenches eagerly around his fingers as finally, a sudden rush of clear liquid sprays out all around them, soaking his hand and his wrist, along with the sheets beneath you in a hot, messy gush.
Gojo smiles and groans at the sight, fingering you through it with quick movements, so that the squirt keeps coming in short bursts.
"Fuuck, look at that," he growls, eyes locked on the way your cunt pulses and sprays. "So pretty when you let loose like that."
Your thighs tremble, clit becoming achingly sensitive.
You gripped the sheets and looked down at the mess, “hah…oh my god…what a mess..”
Another wave hits as he keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles, drawing out every last tremor and whine until you're left twitching, the new bedsheets already soiled under you.
He finally slows his hand down, but doesn't pull out, carefully stroking your inner walls as the aftershocks roll through you.
"Atta girl," he praises, voice coated with satisfaction.
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toji finds you crying in the bathroom about your postpartum body ♡
⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ m.list
quiet sobs escape you as you stand bare in front of the bathroom mirror, observing your new body after pregnancy.
you knew pregnancy would change you — both emotionally and physically. that was a given. but you never expected to loathe yourself so much afterwards, to face the mirror and barely recognise yourself.
more quiet sobs slip out as you run your fingers over your now soft tummy, no longer flat and firm, littered with stretch marks.
your eyes trail further up, taking notice of your puffy nipples, still sore from nursing, scattered with blue and purple veins.
for the first time in your life, you hated yourself. you quickly went from quietly sobbing to full on bawling once you began to imagine what toji must think of you.
then, the bathroom door swings open.
toji catches sight of your red, puffy eyes, cheeks stained with tears, his expression immediately softening. you quickly reach for a towel, trying to hide your new body from him until he steps closer, placing two hands on your hips.
"why’s my girl cryin’, hm?" he asks, his thumbs circling your hips reassuringly. “don’t look at me, i’m disgusting," you sniffle in response, turning your face to look away from him.
almost instantly after, he moves one hand from your hip, cupping your cheek and turning you back to face him, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.
"don’t ever say that shit again, ya’ hear? toji says, his voice softer than usual, almost breaking a little from the thought of you hating yourself this much.
"m’sorry," you sob, leaning your forehead against his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears.
he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, then tilts your chin back up with two fingers so that you’re looking at him. "even more beautiful than the day i met you."
he crouches down slowly, face now level with your tummy. he holds your thighs gently as he kisses you there, then presses his lips to each stretch mark, each one a reminder of the happiness you brought into the world.
"all mine," he mutters, kissing his way up your body, reaching your breasts.
he kisses each nipple, making your breath hitch, your tears beginning to stop flowing from your eyes. “love these tits even more now," he says, gently grasping both swollen mounds, careful he doesn’t cause you any discomfort.
you’d never seen him this gentle, this patient. your hand finds his hair, fingers threading through the black strands. “just wanna be perfect for you," you sniffle.
he stands again, pulling you gently against his chest. "always perfect f’me. always will be."
you wrap your arms around toji’s waist, hugging him tightly like you’re scared to let go.
“cmon, let’s get y’into bed. atta girl," he says, encouraging your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist as he carries you to bed with ease.
a gentle reminder that no matter how much you weigh, or how much your body changes, it made no difference to him.
he lays you down onto the bed, climbing in next to you before tugging you onto his chest. “love you so much," you whisper, settling against him as he pulls the sheets over you both.
sukuna finds out another man put his hands on you…♡
(part of trueform!sukuna x his favourite chubby concubine series) ೃ࿔*:· m.list
the doors to your chambers swing open with brute force, followed by heavy footsteps coming towards you.
sukuna.
he had summoned you to his chambers not long ago, like he does most nights, expecting you to arrive promptly. though this time, you didn’t show up at all.
for the first time, you flinch as he steps closer, one hand pressed to the angry bruise forming along your cheek and jaw. he stands in front of you, four arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes narrowed in irritation.
“you were summoned," he growls, voice low and unamused. “yet here you sit here like some disobedient brat who thinks she can do whatever she pleases."
you look away, turning away just enough for sukuna to spot your split lip, followed by a glimpse of the bruise below your palm that you so desperately tried to hide.
he stops, almost softening. “move your hand."
he wasn’t asking, he was demanding.
"it’s nothing, i’m sorry i kept you waiting," you say gingerly.
sukuna had never seen this side of you. cowering away from him, fragile and quiet — the woman he knew was bold, radiant, full of life.
someone had taken that from you, from him. he didn’t know who, or why, but he did know that they’d pay for it. he knew they’d be sorry and begging for their life soon enough.
two of his hands moved before you could attempt to stop them, one tilting your chin up firmly, the other moving your hand from your face.
his jaw clenches instantly. “who did this to you."
you swallow, voice small and vulnerable. “i told you, it’s nothing. please, kuna—"
his grip tightens, thumb pressing against the blooming bruise on your cheek, making you wince. "speak, woman. don’t make me ask twice."
so you did, stumbling over details, explaining how you’d gone to the markets and a man struck you for standing in his way. sukuna listens without blinking, his grip softening once you’d spilled every last detail.
the room goes silent for a moment. you notice the way his fists clench, the way he grits his teeth in anger. the fact another man had put his hands on you had him seething — someone had dared to touch what belongs to him.
you knew he wouldn’t react this way if it had been any other woman.
“uraume," he shouts suddenly, making you jump, heart pounding in your chest as you begin to imagine what comes next.
they appear almost instantly, lingering in the doorway, ready for instructions.
“tend to the wound, then bring her back to my chamber. i will return shortly." uraume bows their head in acknowledgement, leaving the doorway to fetch the necessary supplies.
sukuna watches you for a moment longer than necessary, jaw tight, before turning on his heel. he doesn’t say a word. he doesn’t need to.
you knew exactly where he was as going.
sukuna returns less than an hour later, blood soaking his arms and chest, dripping down the black tattoos that marked his skin. he looked utterly unbothered, wiping one hand lazily on his robes as if he’d merely crushed an insect.
you perch on the end of his bed, staring, heart hammering. you wait for him to talk first.
“he will not bother you again," sukuna says flatly, sitting beside you. you turn to look at him with glassy eyes, exhaling deeply before nodding, thanking him silently.
two arms pull you against his side with surprising care, though his voice remained low and bored. “you will not go to the markets alone from now on. uraume will accompany you."
his lower eyes flickered to the now cleaned bruise, and for the briefest second his thumb brushed just beneath it, almost tenderly.
you look at him for a long moment, grateful to him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you truly realise the depth of his devotion to you.
even if he’d never admit it.
you lean in, pressing a soft, adoring kiss to his lips, placing one hand on his blood-soaked chest. he holds your wrist against his chest, accepting your affection, kissing you back possessively.
his silent way of saying, ‘you’re mine.’
A/N; next post in this series will be some absolutely delicious creamtastic smut i promise!
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