somewhere in the haze …

Babe? No! I'm Mom!

The sun is streaming through the kitchen windows, the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes is filling the air, and you are currently standing at the stove, flipping a slightly burnt blueberry pancake.

Sukuna is sitting at the kitchen island. He’s fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, his damp pink hair falling into his eyes. He’s scrolling through his phone, sipping his black coffee, completely relaxed.

“Hey,” you say, not looking away from the frying pan. “Can you grab the syrup from the pantry?”

“Yeah, I got it babe.” Sukuna rumbles. He stands up, his massive frame easily reaching the top shelf of the pantry. He sets the bottle on the counter next to you, leaning in to press a lingering, warm kiss to your bare shoulder. “Smells good.”

“Thanks, babe,” you smile, leaning into his touch.

It’s a normal morning. A perfectly domestic, quiet morning. And then, the patter of tiny, bare feet echoes down the hallway.

Yuji waddles into the kitchen. He’s wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas, his spiky pink hair sticking up in every possible direction. He’s clutching an empty plastic sippy cup in one chubby hand, looking incredibly serious for a toddler who just woke up.

He stops in the middle of the kitchen floor. He looks at you. He looks at Sukuna.

Then, he takes a deep breath, puffs out his little chest, and yells, “Babe!”

You freeze. The spatula in your hand halts mid-air. Sukuna stops mid-sip of his coffee. He slowly lowers the mug, his eyes blinking in confusion.

“Did he just…” you whisper, slowly turning your head to look at your husband.

“There’s no way,” Sukuna mutters, his brow furrowing. He looks down at the two-year-old. “What did you say, little man?”

Yuji marches over to Sukuna. He stops right at his father’s bare feet, tilts his head all the way back to look up at the towering 6’4” wall of muscle, and holds up his empty sippy cup.

“Babe,” Yuji says, his voice completely clear and demanding. “Juice. Pwease.”

Sukuna’s jaw drops.

You slap a hand over your mouth, your eyes going wide. “Oh my god.”

“Did you…” Sukuna stammers, looking from Yuji to you, completely bewildered. “Did he just call me babe?”

“He definitely just called you babe,” you wheeze, a laugh bubbling up in your throat.

Yuji, growing impatient with the lack of service, turns his attention to you. He waddles over to the stove, tugging on the hem of your pajama shorts.

“Babe,” Yuji insists, pointing a chubby finger at the frying pan. “Pancake.”

A loud, booming bark of laughter erupts from your husbands chest. He throws his head back, his massive shoulders shaking as he braces his hands on the kitchen island. “Holy shit,” he wheezes.

“It’s not funny!” you scold, though you are biting your lip so hard to keep from laughing that it actually hurts. “He’s going to go to daycare and call his teachers babe!”

“The kid’s got swagger, what can I say?” Sukuna laughs, wiping his eyes. He crouches down, bringing himself to Yuji’s eye level. “Hey. Buddy. Who am I?”

Yuji looks at him like it’s the stupidest question in the world. He reaches out, patting Sukuna’s tattooed cheek with a sticky hand. “Babe.”

Sukuna bites his fist, his face turning red from the effort of holding in another hysterical laugh. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Stop swearing!” you hiss, swatting Sukuna’s shoulder with the spatula. You kneel down next to him, putting on your most serious, gentle mom-face. “Yuji, sweetie, look at me.”

Yuji blinks his big, golden eyes at you. “Yeah?”

You let out a long groan, dropping your head into your hands. Sukuna is practically vibrating next to you, completely useless.

“No, baby,” you say, looking back up. You point to yourself. “I am Mama. Ma-ma.”

Yuji stares at you.

You point to Sukuna, who is currently trying to compose his face into something resembling a responsible parent. “And he is Dada. Da-da. Not babe.”

Yuji looks at Sukuna. He looks at you. His little eyebrows furrow in deep toddler concentration. He’s processing the information. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Mama,” Yuji says slowly, pointing at you.

“Yes!” you cheer, clapping your hands. “Good boy!”

Yuji then points at Sukuna. “Dada.”

“Exactly,” Sukuna nods, looking incredibly proud. “Nailed it, little man.”

Yuji smiles, a massive, gummy grin that lights up his entire face. He looks thrilled with himself. He holds up his sippy cup again, looking right at Sukuna.

“Dada babe! Juice!”

“I give up,” you sigh, standing back up and walking over to the fridge to get the apple juice. “We’re raising a tiny frat boy. This is entirely your fault.”

“My fault?!” Sukuna gasps from the floor, trying to catch his breath. “How is this my fault?!”

“Because you call me babe every five seconds!” you argue, pouring juice into the plastic cup. “You never use my actual name! You never call me mama! He literally thinks ‘babe’ is a universal pronoun!”

“You call me babe too!” Sukuna defends himself, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees. He looks entirely too amused by the situation. “I haven’t heard you call me ‘dada’ unless we’re in the bedroom, and even then—”

“RYOMEN SUKUNA!” you shriek, your face flushing a shade of red as you shove the sippy cup into his chest. “Not in front of the child!”

“What? He doesn’t know what that means,” Sukuna smirks, standing up and effortlessly pulling you by the waist until your back is flush against his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around you.

Yuji happily takes his juice, taking a long sip before waddling over to the living room to watch his cartoons, completely oblivious to the absolute crisis he just caused.

“We have to actively start calling each other Mama and Dada around him. Seriously. I am not having my two-year-old walk around the grocery store yelling ‘babe’ at me.”

“Alright, alright,” Sukuna chuckles, his chest vibrating against your back. He presses a soft kiss to your hair. “We’ll be better. Strictly Mama and Dada from now on.”

“Promise?” you ask, turning your head to look up at him.

“Yes, mommy..” he laughs, kissing your cheek. You groan, elbowing him hard in the ribs. “I hate you.”

you always knew your husband was silly from time to time — but it was undeniable that he was actually the smartest human in the whole world. growing up in the gojo clan had sharpened both his mind & ego, and he thought he was prepared for anything.

except, when his firstborn baby arrived... joy overwhelmed his "keen" senses.

"...i might've cheated on you."

for a being who slaughtered the most vile curses with a lazy roll of his wrist, satoru gojo looked pretty unidentifiable. his aquatic eyes were huge and clouded with bone-crushing guilt, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at the bundle in front of him, and then back at you.

the child was beautiful, this much was plain. but he was not your child. at least not recognizably.

there was no trace of the signature white hair or blue eyes whatsoever—nor did the boy seem to bear even a fleeting resemblance to your own visage. just a tiny, wrinkled little facade that belonged to absolutely nobody.

​satoru looked physically sick. all the color drained from his face, gazing at you with a kind of horrified panic, long fingers clutching to the baby's blanket. ​“i-i swear to you, i don't recall any of it," he stammered, his voice wobbling with dread. "i-i love you beyond measure. it... it must have happened without my knowledge."

what a fucking cliché it is, but he looked for all the world like a frightened man awaiting execution, fully engrossed in his stupid delusion.

"baby, please, you have to believe me, i could never break our vows... y-you know me, i-i would never—"

and throughout his meltdown, you could only stare with your mouth hanging hallway open, body frozen with absolute shock and bewilderment. is he really that braindead?

"satoru," you eventually interrupted his rambling, voice pitched a tad too high with disbelief. "the child came out of me. how exactly could you have cheated to make that happen?”

​an oppressive silence descended upon the hospital room, the gears slowly grinding back to life in his brain. his "brilliant intellect" that usually fed his ego greater than anything finally returned to earth as he blinked down at the boy; the sheer idiocy of the concept clocking into him. ​

​a breathless laugh bubbled out of his throat, the immense self-loathing leaving his frame all at once as he buried the baby's face against his broad chest ever so gently, his eyes shining with relief and a heavy humiliation.

​when he finally looked up, he was wearing a wet smile on his face, cheeks flushed and damp with the tears he’d been shedding over. lunatic. the curve of his pillowy lips trembled slightly as he offered a soft, sheepish grin, fully defenseless under your judging stare.

"let me gooo, i want to make my coffee," you whined softly, the tone made it apparent that you couldn't hold a smile at the sight of your usual collected man being so clingy. provoking him further, you once more tried to release the grasp of his hand on your stomach. the man responded with a disapproving grunt, the vibration from his lips against your skin made you shiver.

"stay, please. i'll make it for you later," he pleaded, trailing lazy kisses along your shoulder blade in hope to get you stay in bed, going as far as bringing his leg over both of yours, practically keeping you in his embrace. you chuckled.

"but i want it now," you replied, yet despite those words you couldn't help but put your hand on his cheek, seeing how the blond nuzzled closer to it, chasing the contact like a cat basking under the attention.

"not yet," he murmured, doubling down by gently turning you over, bringing you closer as you rested your head on his chest. you caved under his relentless touch, both his arms folded snugly behind your back. nanami wore a satisfied smile, like he just achieved something great. "i need another hour of this. of you."

"didn't know i'll be held hostage in some mornings when i went into this marriage," you teased, the comfort of his warm hug made you abandon the scheme you never planned to follow through. your fingers made their way to draw random patterns on the navy shirt he was wearing.

he caught your digits, planting a soft kiss at the back of your hand, "and you promised to accept me as i am in your vow, so i'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for the rest of your life."

you laughed.

🏩 "𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑶 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙ sfw nanami takes care of you while you're on your period ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა artist credits: official jjk art plz reblog / like 2 support ⠀ ⃘໋ׅ♡ 𝑤.𝑐: 0.4k ⁀ ˳ ⟡

#⃝ 𝓦ARNINGS ◦ ₊ㅤ ㅤ﹙ fluff reader is nanami's wife she/her pronouns used Nanami is the sweetest husband eva only tooth rotting fluff you and nanami were high school sweethearts reader & nanami are mid-early 20s modern au / no sorcery 2nd person perspective

໒ִ 𓈒ིྀ ˚ ℳINA'S 𝓝OTES ⫽ ୧ྀ ─ I actually don't like writing for nanami that much masterlist <3

KENTO NANAMI placed his hand over your abdomen, gently sneaking his hand up your shirt to cup at the pouch where your womb was. 

His lips brushed over the back of your hair, while you were pouting, eyes closed in the constant ache. “I feel so gross…” you mumbled, groaning when you felt that one cramp shoot to your rear in eye-watering pain. The first two days of your period were always the worst, you didn’t even want to get out of bed, too tired and sore, not wanting to deal with any daily tasks.

Kento was gentle, the sweetest husband, even. 

-> 0.8k, sfw!

you insisted on going to the horror movie night with your new boyfriend, sukuna, after overhearing his idiot frat brothers whispering about you.

“she’s really soft.”

“i've never seen ryo with a girl like her.”

“watch her piss herself at the first jumpscare.”

laughter all around.

and maybe it was stupid, but you wanted to prove them wrong. prove you could handle the same things as the girls he usually kept around. cool girls. confident girls. mature girls who didn’t cling to their boyfriend’s sleeve every five minutes.

so you sat beside sukuna and in that freezing theater, chin lifted stubbornly, pretending your stomach wasn’t already twisting from the opening music alone.

for the first thirty minutes, you held it together.

barely.

princess treatment w/ choso ! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

choso is a firm believer that pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do anything.

it’s not something he’s ever said out loud, not in those exact words, but you see it in the way he kneels at your feet when your evening slippers are pinching, in the way his hands steady your ankles as he slides them off. 

you see it in the careful, reverent way he unties the laces of your dress at night, his knuckles brushing your spine, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"cho, i can do that myself," you protest for the hundredth time, reaching for the hairbrush on your vanity. you’ve just returned from a work dinner, your face aching from smiling, your scalp tender from the weight of your responsibilities.

"don't be like that," he says softly, taking the brush from your hand. he’s already behind you, his reflection meeting yours in the mirror. he’s wearing a simple black sweater now, his pigtails undone, but he still looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing. "let me help you."

"you’re going to spoil me rotten," you murmur, but you’re already sinking back against him, your eyes drifting shut as he starts working the brush through your hair in slow, even strokes. the bristles scrape gently against your scalp and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure.

"that’s the point," he says, his voice low. he sets the brush down and reaches for the cloth and cleansing oil. "you're too beautiful to even lift a finger, baby."

he’s wiping the rouge from your cheeks now, the kohl from your eyes. his touch is so gentle, so methodical, like he’s polishing something precious. you let him tilt your chin up, let him clean away the day’s mask. when he’s done, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"cmon, bed." he commands. not harshly—never harshly—but with the quiet authority of a man who knows exactly what you need.

you stand, your hand in his, and let him lead you to the mattress. he undresses you slowly, layer by layer, the silk pooling at your feet. when you’re down to your thin shift, he pulls back the covers and tucks you in like you’re something fragile.

"sleep," he whispers.

but you catch his wrist. you’re not sleepy. not anymore. the tiredness has shifted into something else, something warm and heavy low in your belly.

"stay," you plead.

he hesitates. "you’re tired."

"i want you," you clarify, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. "but i’m... i’m exhausted. but— but i want you— but i don't want to do anything—"

something dark flickers in his eyes. understanding. hunger. devotion.

"then don’t," he says. he climbs onto the bed, fully clothed, and crawls up your body until he’s hovering over you. "don’t do anything. don’t even think. just let me make you feel good."

nerdjo’s glasses slip down his nose as he stares at you between his knees, mouth already running even while you’re bobbing on his cock.

“fuckkk, that’s so good—shit, wait, did you know that like… most guys only last like five minutes with head? which is, y’know, kind of embarrassing considering the male refractory period—”

his words stutter when you swallow around his sensitive tip, spit dripping down your chin. “ohhh god, okay, yeah, that’s—fuck—that’s definitely less than five minutes for me.”

your tongue presses under his tip and he whines, still running his mouth.

“ahhh—shit, baby, did you also know semen actually has, like, fructose in it? it’s literally nature’s energy drink—ohhh fuck, your tongue—wait, wait, don’t stop—” his whimpers comes out shaky, hand twitching like he wants to push your head down but can’t decide if it’s rude.

you take him deeper, throat tightening, and he slaps a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his lenses. he tries to muffle a moan but it comes out anyway, high and desperate.

“o-okay, okay, uh—s-science says sucking dick releases oxytocin—hahh, f-fuck—bonding hormone, y’know? so technically, we’re like… getting closer right now.”

you hum around him in agreement and he gasps, words spilling faster. “shitshitshit, baby, you’re—fuck, your throat’s so warm, you’re making me cum—ahhh, oh god, wait, I’m serious, I’m—”

you sink down onto him slow, thighs trembling as his thick cock stretches you open inch by inch.

nanami’s hands grip your hips hard enough to leave marks, breath ragged against your mouth while you settle fully in his lap. the bedroom is dim, just the low lamp casting gold across his bare chest and the way sweat already beads at his collarbone.

he kisses you like he’s starving, tongue sliding deep, tasting every soft sound you make. your fingers thread through his blond hair, tugging lightly as you start to roll your hips, riding him with that slow grind that makes his thighs tense beneath you. wet sounds fill the room each time you lift and drop, slick coating his length and dripping down to his balls.

“fuck,” he murmurs into your lips, voice hoarse and wrecked.

one hand slides up your back, pressing you closer until your breasts crush against him. his other hand stays on your ass, guiding you, helping you bounce a little faster. every drag of his cock inside you hits that spot that makes your toes curl.

you lean in to kiss him deeper, tongues tangled, breaths shared hot and messy. his hips buck up to meet you, driving himself even deeper. that’s when he breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded and desperate.

“don’t leave me again,” he whispers, the words raw and trembling right there in the middle of it all. his voice cracks just a little on the last syllable, like the thought alone hurts. he pulls you back into the kiss before you can answer, hungrier now, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he thrusts up harder.

you ride him through it, clenching around his cock with every rise and fall, skin slapping softly together. his hands roam like he can’t get enough of you, palms mapping your waist, your ribs, the curve of your spine. he groans low when you grind down and circle your hips, milking him just right.

The first time Satoru Gojo realizes he made a mistake is when he can’t find you on campus.

At first he thinks it’s funny.

You’ve always been easy to find. The west library corner seat by the window. The campus café at 10:30 with a vanilla latte and that same notebook you pretend isn’t a diary.

But after the breakup?

You vanish.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

Your Instagram, phone number, Snapchat — blocked.

He stares at his phone in the Alpha Tau living room while music blasts around him and someone hands him another drink.

Blocked.

“Damn,” one of the guys laughs. “She actually did it.”

Gojo scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ll get her back,” he says cockily.

Like he’s not the one who said it. I need to focus on football.

The lie sounded convincing at the time. The scouts were watching. His coach kept yelling about discipline. Everyone said relationships were a distraction.

So he broke up with you.

Clean and quick.

Two weeks later, he’s drunk at three different frat parties, shamefully sneaking out of sorority house hookups before the sun even rises.

And somehow that’s when he realizes something feels wrong.

———-

The First Attempt

He tries texting.

It doesn’t go through. Still blocked.

He laughs to himself. “Dramatic much.”

But that night he still walks across campus toward the all-girl dorms.

Except the front desk girl just shrugs. “She’s not here.”

Gojo frowns, “What do you mean she’s not here?”

“Means she’s not here.”

He stands outside the dorm building for ten minutes before leaving.

The next day he tries again. Still no sight of you.

Flowers

A week later a bouquet arrives at your dorm. White lilies and baby’s breath.

Attached card: —SG <3

He doesn’t even know if you like lilies. You used to talk about flowers sometimes, but he never listened carefully enough to remember, and now he regrets it.

The desk girl tells him later you picked them up without saying a word.

Still no message back.

The Letters

Then the letters start. The handwritten notes made him feel romantic, he was sure this would get a response out of you.

The first one is simple.

I know you blocked me. I deserve it.

Let me know if you wanna talk

-Satoru <3

No response.

The second one is longer.

I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you. I thought I was doing the responsible thing.

Please unblock me xoxo

The third one is messy.

He writes it at 2 AM after a party he left early because some girl laughed too loud in a way that sounded a little too much like you.

I keep looking for you around campus.

You used to sit by the west library window. I checked yesterday. You weren’t there. Are you avoiding me?

- Toru

Your Favorite Snacks

The dorm desk starts receiving packages. Your favorite chocolate. Spicy chips.

Strawberry gummies you always bought from the vending machine during late-night study sessions.

Deliveries of your favourite bubble tea.

The desk girl starts recognizing his name. “Another one from the football guy. I told him you weren’t here again like you asked.”

Meanwhile

Gojo’s reputation doesn’t change. He’s still the star player. Still the loud one at parties. Still the guy everyone thinks has everything.

But lately he keeps checking doorways. Scanning crowds at football games. Looking for someone who isn’t there.

The First Time He Sees You Again

It’s raining. He’s leaving practice when he spots you across the quad under a blue umbrella.

For a second he thinks he imagined it.

But then you look up. And your eyes meet his.

The look on your face isn’t anger. It’s worse.

It’s indifference.

You turn and keep walking. Gojo’s heart drops straight into his stomach. He can’t let you escape after all this time of chasing you.

“Hey—!”

You stop slowly. You look over your shoulder. “…What?” Your voice is calm.

Gojo suddenly forgets every speech he rehearsed. “I—did you get the letters?”

“Yes.”

“…And?…will you please talk to me?”

You stare at him for a long moment “Goodnight, Gojo.”

Then you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the rain, watching you disappear.

he loves fucking you in front of the mirror because he gets to see how your eyes roll back and brows close in as you cum all over him.

he pulls your hair back tightly so he can see the expression you make in the reflection— it's so mesmerising to him.

"ngh— cum, cum," he pounds you hard, feeling your gummy walls tighten as he speaks. "let me see your orgasm face, let me see the faces you make when you cum,"

the snap of his hips quicken, excitedly thrusting into you faster so he can see you make a mess.

"fuck— 'toru," you moan, wanting to rest your head on the mattress but he won't let you because then he can't see.

he goes faster until you start to twitch and pulse around him.

the pleasure takes over your mind, hips moving along to him. it hurts. your lower body is throbbing but you don't care. you need his cock inside you so bad. you need to cum desperately.

satoru's hand tightens a bit more as he feels you release all over him, admiring the lewd look on your face as you coat him with your essence.

"mmh, baby you look so hot when you do that," he moans, suspending your head up in the air, not letting go anytime soon.

— cw ﾉ crëampïe, óräl sex, dâćryphiliä

a/n ; gosh he would be too gorgeous if he was real.

“Hey, don’t—no need to be so gentle…” Jinshi groans as you wrap your fingers around his cock for a better grip. You’ve always loved taking your time with him.

well, no one loved your blow jobs more than him.

You unhook your jaw to take Jinshi in all his glory—his 8-inch cock, a beautifully trimmed purple-haired base beneath it—watching the mess of your spit dribble down as you leaned into it like the slutty girl you were.

“Nngh— I just need to be inside of you… please, let me—” he whines, voice on the verge of breaking as you pull your mouth from his cock.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to see you like this… you’re so pretty like this, Jinshi,” you grin. “Aren’t you?, my pretty boy?” His face almost crumbles when you glide your mouth back down onto his shaft.

“Mmmph—you’re so hot… I am,” he groans, the sound dragging from his cock all the way up through his chest as he bucks his waist into your mouth, practically face-fucking you. “M’ your pretty boy…” he mumbles, like he’s right on the edge of cumming.

But no—no, why would you let him?

You pop your mouth off his cock, a string of spit still attached to his pink-tipped length, making him reach for your face. “Hey—no, I was gonna…”

And before he could finish, you were already rising up to sit right down on his cock. You could see tears welling up in his eyes as you lowered yourself onto him, in response he throw his head back, all those long purple strands falling onto the pillow.

“It’s too good… it’s too fucking good,” he says through him biting down his lip as he grips your waist, guiding you up and down on his cock.

“You look like you’re gonna cryyy…” you hush out at him as tears roll down his face, he then pulls you down into him. He feels your tits against his chest, that only made his cock twitch even more… and he wraps his big arms around you.

Only to start Jackhammering his cock into you.

“M’sorry… I’m sorry, it just feels too good,” he whines, tears running down his cheeks.

“It’s okay shi— you can cum in me… whenever you want…” you babble out “be good and cum…” diving your face and spilling words coaxingly into the crook of his neck, still restricted by his arms as he fucks you like a fleshlight.

“Oh fuck—I’m cummin. Come on, cum with me, please—I need it…” he slurs out as he feels your walls flutter against the tip of his cock. “Your pussy is basically—nngh… swallowing up my cock. You wanted it too…” he says in a soft coo. “So you can’t be mad…”

Mad? He was fucking you until you saw stars, and he was worried—he thought you’d be mad, so you only ground your ass back down.

“Never—shi… I could never be mad at you…” you flutter almost falling apart, and for a second, you saw his face light up.

And with a single swipe of his hand, he guided your hips down onto him, his palm pressing your ass down. You felt the warm, flashing rush of your orgasm and his cum spilling into you and for certain, not a drop was wasted.

Once you take a breath and he releases his arms from around you, you sit up, feeling your back arch away from him…

Hardening again?

“Can we go again… please?” His long eyelashes were slick with tears, and his cheeks and nose were a bright pink all the while he looked away covering his face, and your heart throbbed, he was... embarrassed.

How could you say no that that face?!

please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites. do not feed to ai

Jinshi x Fem! Reader NSFW!

Plot: You accidentally eat something you weren't supposed to. Turns out it was laced with an aphrodisiac, lucky for you, your master is more than happy to lend you a hand.

Author's Note: I had intended to post this wayyyy sooner, but things are about chaotic rn and I kinda forgot about it. So here it is!!! (expect typos) This is straight filth, no plot.

Cw: Dom!Jinshi, Cunninglings, Fingering, Rough sex.