Damien (Femboy)

“sukuna i need you to clench your butt.”

“i beg your finest fucking pardon?”

“i need you to take off your pants. and clench your ass.” you deadpanned, staring right into his soul.

you had your anatomy exam the next day, already struggle with the endless amount of diagrams and labels on your own skin. until it clicked that you had a perfectly good boyfriend that you could use to study.

he had the muscles, the meat. he was the perfect victim case study.

moments later, he stood before you, his body bare, stripped to the very bone while you scrawled on him with markers, your eyes focused—barely registering that your boyfriend was very naked, and very flustered while you examined him.

your soft hands moved all over the planes of his body, mapping out every muscle, over every part of him, and just as he was about to relax, you kneeled behind him, grabbing your pens and smack !

“clench.”

“i should start charging you for this.”

“well you love me, so nope!” you cheered, tracing the muscles of his ass while labelling every single one, before waddling on your knees to move in front of him, his dick half hard right before your eyes, while you looked up at him, almost smug.

“oh you’re naaaasty ‘kuna. is me studying turning you on?” you grinned, giggling before palming his cock in your hands, slowly spitting into the palm of your hands, jerking him off slowly.

“m doing you a favour.”

“sick prev. but thank you.” you said, moving his cock to your lips, slowly licking his tip while he groaned, his hand finding the crown of your head to try to remain steady.

if every crevice of your mouth managed to memorise the veins on his cock, it’d still count as studying, right?

missed me? @yoonsucks

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 Sukuna Ryomen ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ secretly likes it when you put hair clips on him .✦ ݁˖

The King of Curses was currently sitting on the floor of your living room, radiating enough dark, malicious energy to level a small village—all because of a tiny piece of pink plastic.

“If anyone breathes a word of this,” Ryomen rumbled, his voice low and dangerous, “I will flay them alive. Slowly.”

“Yes, yes, the grand King of Curses, terror of the Heian era, undone by a pastel hair accessory,” you teased, completely unfazed by the threat.

You were sitting on the couch behind him, running your fingers through his surprisingly soft, unruly pink hair. He had come to you in a rare, quiet mood, seeking a break from Jujutsu sorcerers and ancient feuds. But his bangs kept falling into his primary set of eyes, and his constant, irritated clicking of his tongue was driving you crazy.

So, you did the only logical thing: you went to your vanity and grabbed a pack of colorful, sparkly hair clips.

When you first snapped a glittery blue butterfly clip right above his forehead, pinning back the stubborn spikes, his entire body went rigid. The extra set of eyes on his cheeks blinked in utter disbelief. Four arms immediately tensed, claws digging into his knees.

“What is the meaning of this insolence?” he had snarled, a genuine threat laced in his tone.

But you didn't back down. Instead, you just smoothed down a stray strand of hair and smiled. “Your hair was in your eyes. Now you can see better. Keep them in.”

He growled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated right through the floorboards. He could have cleaved you in two before you could even blink. He could have reduced the entire building to ash.

Instead... he just sat there. He let out a heavy, defeated sigh, his shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch.

As the minutes ticked by, you kept going. You added a yellow star clip, then a little pink strawberry one.

Ryomen crossed his top arms, looking thoroughly displeased, while his lower arms rested on his knees. He muttered curses under his breath about how weak human culture had become. But you noticed something he would never admit aloud.

The truth was, Sukuna Ryomen spent every waking second of his existence being feared, hated, or hunted. No one dared to touch him unless they were trying to kill him. But here you were, casually treating the most dangerous entity in history like an oversized doll, running your fingers through his hair with gentle, completely unafraid movements.

He secretly, deeply, absolutely loved it.

“You're ridiculous.”

“There,” you said cheerfully, patting the top of his head. “All done. You look beautiful, Ryomen.”

He scoffed, finally turning his head to look up at you. The view was absurd: the undisputed King of Curses, covered in demonic tattoos, looking at you with four eyes while sporting a crown of colorful, sparkly kids' hair clips.

“You have a death wish,” he muttered, though the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. One of his large, tattooed hands reached up, his sharp claws brushing against the strawberry clip. He could have ripped it out, but he just tapped it gently, making sure it was secure.

“You're not going to take them out?” you asked, leaning forward with a smirk.

Ryomen turned back around, facing away from you so you couldn't see the slight softening in his expression. “They are keeping the hair out of my eyes. Nothing more.”

“Right. Sure,” you laughed, resting your chin on the top of the couch, watching him.

He didn't move to take them out for the rest of the night. In fact, when he finally stood up to leave hours later, he made sure to walk past the hallway mirror, casting a brief, satisfied glance at his reflection before disappearing into the shadows—clips still firmly in place.

© 2026 aeresha. All content is owned by @aeresha. Do not repost, edit, translate, or copy in any form across any platform.

sukunas stomach mouth is as freaked out as the rest of him.

imagine you’re making out with him and it just pokes out, licking a stripe across your abdomen. before you can even say anything about it one set of his arms start peeling you out of your clothes while he keeps your mouth occupied. you make a sound of surprise and he swallows that down when he seats you firmly onto his stomach, pulling you over him. no room to move away. he’s laying with his back to the couch, wearing a shit eating grin on his real face while the other is driving you insane.

sukuna would laugh at your whines too. he’d probably mock your sounds and point out how you’re still moaning despite it all. he’ll end up watching you move around on him, taking exactly what you needed. he’d have his hands crossed behind his head and lip caught between his teeth while you gasp and grind back into the movements of his stomach mouth. then when you’d slow down and movements get sloppy, staring at him like you’re begging him to help out, sukuna would shake his head and smile harder cause he knows he’d won.

“gotta do it yourself brat.”

sukuna + blowjobs

ryomen sukuna x male reader

sukuna loves watching you tremble and whine underneath him. he loves seeing the way your thighs twitch, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides like you were resisting the urge to grab his hair or shoulders.

your brows were furrowed tight, head tilted back against the pillows as you bite back groans and whimpers. he was surprised you were staying this quiet, though that only pushed him to try harder.

his lips were wrapped around your cock, tongue lapping circles around your shaft. his skills never lacked then so why are you so quiet now?

he pulls off, a soft pop heard throughout the room, you instantly look down, sukunas eyes boring straight into yours.

his lower set of hands held your thighs down, limiting you from moving or escaping, not like you would try and leave anyway.

one of his upper hands trailed up your stomach, chest, arms, touching anywhere your skin was revealed. sukunas voice was low, his face carrying a scowl.

“why are you holding back?”

you breathe heavily, chest rising and falling in your peripherals, missing the feel of his mouth around you already.

“..what?”

sukuna only narrows his eyes at this, trying not to scoff at your obliviousness, brows furrowing in disbelief and annoyance.

“why are you so quiet tonight? you’re normally all about this.”

he motions down at your dick, which was standing patiently, a drop of pre cum slipping down.

oh.

he wanted you to be more vocal? you honestly never thought he cared all that much..

sukunas hands gripped your thighs tighter, trying to coax a response out of you. his lower set of eyes watching the pre slide down your shaft in amusement.

“well?”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself enough to actually form words, sukunas mouth had been giving you a run for your money.

“I.. I wasn’t really paying attention to that..”

sukuna doesn’t reply instantly, leaning down and licking straight up your shaft, base to the tip, his tongue warm and wet against your most sensitive area.

you felt your breath hitch, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, low muffled groan leaving your throat. thats when sukunas hand comes up, flicking your forehead.

“don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

he mutters gruffly, a small annoyed frown on his face.

you release your lip, hands gripping the sheets of his bed, hoping that’ll appease him.

he doesn’t make another demand so you assumed he was fine, he only brought his head back down, taking you all in at once.

sukuna was weirdly good at blowjobs. he hadn’t ever spoke of who he’d bed before you so you weren’t sure how much experience he had.. but he certainly was skilled.

it wasn’t just the mouth on his face that was skilled either, he regularly pleasured you with the one on his stomach as well.

he enjoyed laying on top of you, crushing you with his sheer size while the mouth on his stomach sucked you off. he would simply stare at you, all four eyes watching you with an intensity that bordered on obsessive.

you couldn’t even focus on that right now, both of sukunas upper arms trailing up your torso, hands groping at your pecs all while your cock was shoved down his throat.

sukuna never gagged or choked either, in fact his throat was so relaxed it seemed like second nature to him.

who knew the king of curses was so good at sucking dick?

all you could do was lay there while he devoured you, working his mouth around you. one of his hands come up, pointer finger and thumb gently massaging your balls.

his head bobbed slowly, like he was savoring you, dragging this moment on. sukuna loved being difficult, he liked wearing you down, making you beg, though he also liked seeing you in so much pleasure it broke you.

one of his favorite looks on you was when you were at your breaking point, sweating and shaking while he denies you your orgasm for the nth time that night.

it made something in his stomach twist, the sight of you almost making him breathless. he didn’t know what was so different about you but you made something in his chest tighten, warmth spreading through his body with just your touch.

sukuna bobbed his head faster, thumb pressing down on your sack, wanting to drive you to the edge again, his nails were digging into your thigh, the feeling of them breaking skin making you groan.

sukuna seemed to like this, groaning against you, the sound sending vibrations up your spine and more heat directly to your lower half.

his mouth was warm and soft, it felt so good, almost too good. everything about sukuna felt good.

his hands on your pecs groped away, moving to pinch at your nipples. his fingers were huge, much bigger than yours. every part of sukuna was bigger than you.

“fuck, sukuna..”

you groan out through clenched teeth, trying to buck your hips up against his hold. he only chuckles, swirling his tongue around your tip, tongue slipping in between your leaky slit.

his touch was addicting, burning your skin with every little movement of his fingers. your legs felt swallowed by his hands, his palm covering the majority of your thigh.

sukuna could feel you throbbing in his mouth, the heavy weight of you on his tongue making him twitch in his own pants.

all the sudden sukuna pulls you down closer to him your body semi pressed against his. you could feel his own erection against your thigh, the stiffness sending a jolt of heat through your body.

you were sure you were dripping into his mouth by now, his spit and your pre mixing and sliding down your shaft, it would’ve been pooling on your stomach and balls if it wasn’t for sukuna’s tongue slurping up every drop.

you could feel the pleasure growing and growing, unable to help the noises that escaped your throat. the noises only turned sukuna on more, wanting to get as much of a reaction out of you as possible.

his hands were traveling all over you, fingers trailing over the planes of your muscles, tracing out the pattern of your veins.

sukunas head was moving up and down your cock quickly, too lost in the feeling of pleasing you to slow down. his hand on your balls never stopping, massaging and moving them around in his fingers.

sukunas pace was always fast. he was relentless, insatiable. he was constantly going with a roughness and speed that neared unbearable.

his hands slide back up your shoulders, fingers dragging down your chest, pin pricks of blood bubbling up in their wake.

you could barely hold on, sukunas touch mixed with his mouth and everything he was doing was overwhelming you.

it was too much, yet not enough. you could never get enough of sukuna.

his eyes stare up at you, the deep crimson matching that of your face. the warmth almost burning your skin, you were sure the rest of you body matched it.

you whimper shamelessly, unable to hold back anymore, this only egged sukuna on further, his head bobbing at a punishing pace.

his tongue was about to make you cry, the way it wrapped around you and savored you was making your brain fuzzy, swirling around your shaft and head like he was dehydrated and you were the only liquid.

the pleasure was intense, all you could do was take it, take it and hope you survived because sukuna was intense. he always was. if you couldn’t keep up with his pace you wouldn’t have made it this far.

“sukuna- i can’t!”

you whine out breathlessly, face pressing into the mattress. he still doesn’t respond, taking his time to push you closer and closer, the heat in your stomach expanding.

one of his hands press flat against your abdomen, lightly pressing down earning an easy groan from you as you jerk beneath him, the pleasure slowly consuming you.

for a moment all you could see was white, back arching up the best you could while he held you down.

sukuna could feel your tip hit the back of his throat, your cum shooting down his throat in thick ropes, warm and sticky as they coat his throat.

his mouth didnt leave you yet, still moving up and down, tongue still circling you, though slower now, gentler in his own way, but “gentle” for sukuna wasn’t really a thing.

your hands weakly push at him, gripping at his hair to get him off, the stimulation too much on your softening cock. sukuna only continues sucking away, looking lost in his own pleasure, as if sucking your dick made him feel good.

after a few grueling seconds he pulls off, hand sliding to grab your base, his head leaning down and licking whatever slipped between his lips, not letting a single drop of you go to waste.

the sound of his lips slurping against your shaft made your cheeks flush, whining in embarrassment as you try and scoot away, sukuna’s hand holding you down.

“sukuna.. cmon..”

you mumble out, letting out shaky breaths as he finally releases you.

your dick flopped back against your stomach, completely spent, the sheen layer of spit from sukuna making your face heat up further.

speaking of sukuna, the man crawled up, hovering over you with a sharp grin, his hand coming up to grip your face tightly.

his lips smashed against yours, the taste of you filling your mouth, sukunas tongue slipping through your lips, claiming the rest of you entirely.

your hands come up, weakly grabbing onto his biceps, doing your best to kiss him back all while coming down from your high.

your eyes flutter shut, simply letting sukuna explore your mouth again, the way he had done hundreds of times.

he pulls back after a moment, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours. his hot breath fanning your lips, jolting under him as you feel a wetness on you again, glancing down to see the mouth on his stomach sucking away at you.

you groan, overstimulation starting to kick in as you shake your head, trying to bear the feeling of his other mouth savoring you now. sukuna’s grin never falters as he speaks, voice a little hoarse from having sucked you dry.

“again…?”

…

—————————————————————————

holy shit bro the true form sukuna panel has made me feral.

“miss me, don't you pretty boy?”

you could could barely see. barely think. hell— barely breathe with how suguru stuffed you full and ground on your ass like he was trying to mold it. carve his cock so deep within your soul that you missed him for another ten years.

hands grappled his broad shoulders like lifelines. your face limped into his neck. teeth latched on his flesh and your teary eyes crossed as he bundled you by the thighs and wretched you wide open on his altar.

fucking you like a sacrifice to him. a god. your cruel god.

when he was buried balls deep and your cock squirted with every thrust— you could forget it. forget that he was gone. that he wasn't yours anymore.

silky, dark strands tickled your skin and stuck to it. his hot tongue and lips mouthed down your neck and circled your pulse. a clear claim beneath his teeth: he owned you.

“fuck—” your hips bucked uselessly into his ever pounding cock. “s-sugu— guru— 'm gonna—! please!”

“gonna what?”

your knees ached as they were flung over his shoulders. his strong frame shoved yours down into a slutty crux. so that your ass squished into his pelvis and his calloused hands could roam. one fixed behind your neck and the other fisting the head of your cock.

“gonna what, my slutty boy?”

he grinned. filthy and sinful and all sinister teeth.

“gonna cum again? cum for me while you're crying 'bout missing me?”

your damp lashes fluttered. thighs trembling as he adjusted the angle. pounded wet sobs out of your slackened, drooling mouth as you scrambled for support. clenched around that one thrumming vein that throbbed into your sweetspot.

“s-su— suguru—! fuckfuckfuck 'm cummin'— I miss you, I miss you I'm cumming I'm—”

your crying babbles quiver as his fingers flexed around your neck. gripping you by the hair as he rammed! in with a lewd, wet slap of his heavy balls against your spasming ass. fuck.

“sshhhh,” his eyes glazed darker. a harsh thumb circled your throbbing tip and stroked against the slit. dragging your stringy cum all over the sensitive nerves.

“so fuckin' loud. what if my followers hear you?”

“don't care!”

“oh yeah?”

you croaked as he slammed in to the hilt. rutting into your fluttering rim until heat burst in your lungs and you helplessly bucked into the burning pleasure. ropes pitifully spilling from your twitching dick. staining his hand. hopefully his soul.

suguru craned over you. long hair curtaining you as he stroked at the tears and brought them to your trembling lip. his thrusts eased into a shallow grind. he crooned, deep and achingly tender.

“of course you don't care.”

another squeeze round your cock. another slam into your ass.

you spluttered.

“aaallll you care about is getting this pretty ass stuffed by me again hm, pretty boy?” his grin turned cold. “so c'mon. take it. it's all you're good for.”

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/uzmacchiato.

Telling creators a character is not queer and being continuously bitchy over it won't stop them from making fics of that character. There is no such thing as being "underrepresented" and "oppressed" by just ONE fic 🤦

ᝰ.ᐟ note : curious!reader, established relationship, mahito not being used to affection, fluff, reader is human

BOYFRIEND!MAHITO WHO . . . is genuinely confused why you’re not scared of him

BOYFRIEND!MAHITO WHO . . . you’ve seen him do horrible things… yet still ask him if it hurts whenever he uses his technique.

masterlist

cw; angst

word count; 1.1k

────୨ৎ────

the first thing mahito noticed about you was that you didn’t break correctly.

everyone broke eventually.

that was the beautiful thing about souls.

pull them apart.

stretch them.

twist them.

they always came undone.

every single one.

except yours.

his hand was still wrapped around your wrist when he realised it.

your cursed technique activated instinctively.

a violent surge of innate energy.

for one impossible second, your soul touched his.

and then

everything shattered.

warm sunlight.

the smell of summer.

laughter carried by the wind.

a hand squeezing yours.

someone saying your name.

the feeling of being loved so completely it made your chest ache.

so completely that losing it would destroy you.

and beneath it all…

fear.

the terrible, suffocating fear of losing something precious. the kind of fear that only existed because the love came first.

then just gone.

—

mahito released you immediately.

the memory shattered and he was back in the the alley with rainwater pooled beneath his shoes on the broken concrete.

distant sirens and traffic echoeing around you both.

you staggered backwards, breathing hard. waiting.

preparing yourself for the attack.

instead mahito just

stared.

for once, he wasn’t smiling.

his eyes were wide with childlike wonder and fascination.

“what was that?”

his voice sounded strange. it was quieter than before.

“you mean my cursed technique?” you frowned.

his gaze sharpened instantly.

“do it again.”

“what?”

“that.”

he pointed at you.

“do that again.”

you stared utterly confused. people usually hated your technique.

the sudden flood of emotion, vulnerability and loss of control.

mahito looked enchanted.

like he’d discovered a secret hidden beneath the world itself.

“it doesn’t work like that.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

his grin returned immediately.

bright yet dangerous.

you hated how excited he looked.

“what does it do?” he asked.

“you felt it.”

“i know.”

“thats all there is to it. pure emotion imprinted onto a soul from a powerful memory.”

mahito blinked.

“mahito… what are you doing?” you sighed.

silence followed as mahito tilted his head. examining you as he took in this information.

“you make people relive it?”

“no.” you shook your head. “they don’t see the memory.”

his smile slowly disappeared.

“they just feel it.”

the alley fell quiet.

”…they just feel it?”

for the first time since meeting him mahito went completely still.

not preparing to kill you, just… thinking.

the rain tapped softly against the pavement.

“so that feeling…”

his hand drifted absently to his chest.

”…that wasn’t mine.”

you almost laughed. “obviously. how could you have ever felt that?”

his hand remained pressed lightly against his chest as if he could still feel the remnants of it there.

the warmth.

the ache.

the love.

for once, mahito wasn’t smiling. he simply stood there beneath the rain, staring at nothing.

water clung to pale blue hair and slipped down the curve of his jaw, his long lashes casting shadows across features that looked almost delicate in the dim light.

almost human.

and somehow, that was the most unsettling part. because there was something strangely vulnerable about him then.

something open.

like he’d accidentally glimpsed a world he’d never been meant to see.

and for the first time since meeting him,

mahito looked touched.

genuinely touched.

not by you or the memory itself

but by the overwhelming weight of feeling.

as though he’d spent his entire life studying the ocean from the shore,

only to discover what it felt like to drown

a curse born from human hatred standing in an alleyway wondering why his chest still ached.

“interesting.”

the word left him quietly almost like it was only meant for himself.

then his gaze snapped back to yours.

sharp.

hungry.

and curious.

“you can touch souls.” he gasped out.

the way he said it sent a chill down your spine.

not as an accusation or as a threat.

but as pure admiration.

“you can actually touch them.”

a breathless laugh escaped him.

disbelieving.

“you know how long i’ve been looking for someone like you?”

you didn’t answer because something told you he wasn’t really asking.

mahito stepped forward delicately.

his eyes never left yours.

“i’ve touched thousands of souls.”

his smile softened gently and genuinely.

far more terrifying than any spine-chilling grin he’d given you before.

“nobody’s ever touched mine back.”

your stomach dropped because suddenly this wasn’t a fight anymore.

this was worse.

mahito wasn’t looking at you like prey. and he wasn’t looking at you like an enemy.

he wasn’t even looking at you like a person.

he was looking at you the way a child might look at a butterfly he’d never seen before.

something beautiful that he desperately wanted to understand.

and children were notorious for pulling the wings off things they loved.

“oh.” you choked out.

mahito’s eyes widened.

a new realization forming.

one that made your heart stop.

“can you feel mine?”

you froze. unsure of what to make of his request.

“what?”

“my soul.” he breathed out.

he smiled so hard it was impossible to look away whilst he was completely oblivious to how insane he sounded.

“if i touch you, can you feel mine too?”

the question lingered between you and you didn’t answer.

mahito watched you carefully.

then he smiled as he tapped his fingers gently on his face like he was working you out.

you opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out. your fingers tightened against your palm.

“you don’t know, do you?”

before you could respond, his hand closed around your wrist.

firm but not enough to hurt.

just enough to stop you from pulling away.

you feel your breath get caught in your throat as mahito’s gaze immediately dropped to where your skin met his.

fascinated.

like he’d forgotten everything else.

the rain dripped from pale blue strands of hair as he stepped closer.

close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

“you can feel everyone else’s,” he murmured.

his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your pulse.

“their grief. their love. their fear.”

his eyes lifted to yours.

bright, curious and yet unsettlingly sincere.

“so what’s wrong with mine?”

for the first time that evening, mahito looked genuinely frustrated.

like a puzzle refusing to solve itself.

“i’ve touched thousands of souls.” his voice dropped lower.

“why can’t you touch mine?”

the question was laced in disappointment as if he’d already decided you were the answer to something and now reality wasn’t cooperating.

his grip tightened ever so slightly.

“i want to know what it feels like.”

the confession left him before he could stop it:

“i want to know what i feel like.”

and suddenly you understood.

mahito wasn’t obsessed with your technique because it was powerful.

mahito’s got this nasty habit of shoving a hand under your pants at the most random times—his misinterpretation of “pda” when you tried to explain the concept to him. in all honesty, it’s the gentlest form of sex he’s capable of, so you tolerate it.

right now, playing monopoly on the coffee table, you pretend to focus on your property empire—but it’s a herculean effort with mahito’s fingers rubbing your clit like a lucky charm.

“the ueno zoo is mine,” he mutters, counting his play money. (he’s fixated on that spot; no one else gets why it’s so important to him) much to jogo’s disgust, the bills are sticky with your arousal, and he’s regretting being the banker. choso, predictably, wears the blank expression of neutral judgment. sighing, mahito plops the slick, sticky dice into jogo’s palm.

"awww c'mhere silly human i just wanna try something!"

as he drags you by the ankle with ease and with inhuman strenght, your nails scraping the floor.

"it wont hurt i swear!"

and then he fucking rearranges your guts. uses you like a toy for his own pleasure and enjoyment.

and no, your pleasure is none of his business. he couldnt care less.

he'd use your holes just to experiment, to test your reactions and he'd laugh hysterically at every sound you make.

"what was THAT, human? do it again, do it again NOW."

and when he's finally had enough of you, he leaves you fucked out, covered in that thick disgusting cum of his leaking out of your holes.

i love mahito.

most people couldn’t look at him for long.

the moment they caught sight of him, their eyes dart away. some out of fear, or some out of disgust. they believe a creature like him isn’t meant to be looked at.

you think they are all blind.

the evening is quiet, lantern light casting a warm glow across the room. it has become part of your nightly routine before bed, these quiet moments spent with your husband after the day has settled.

sukuna sits against the bed frame, one pair of arms folded while the other rests loosely across his lap.

his crimson eyes follow you as you crawl toward him. you sit down beside him and gently take one of his hands, then another.

his brows rise as he looks at you expectantly.

you compare them, turning them over in your palms. thick fingers, calloused skin, veins running beneath flesh capable of tearing apart crowds.

yet you trace them carefully, as if they are something precious.

“four arms..“ you murmur.

“you say that as if you’ve only just noticed,” he says, clicking his tongue after.

you’re not stupid. you know exactly what suguru is doing.

the first time, he does it so carelessly that you persuade yourself it's nothing at all. he’s carrying heavy grocery bags into the kitchen, veins bulging on his thick forearms that are currently straining against the plastic handles, and then, right as he passes your chair: “nnnhh—ahhh, fuck.”

it’s a soft, breathy purr, like he just couldn’t hold it back. you seize up, surprise and confusion hitting you at the same time as your face heats instantly. and he has the nerve to peek at you over his shoulder, mauve eyes wide and feigning surprise. “ah, sorry 'bout that. heavy bags.”

then there’s the mornings. he wakes up unrushed and lifts his arms above his head with a sluggish yawn, his back arching into a curve that hoists his shirt up ever so slightly, making him utter the most sinful sound has ever graced the earth.

“mmhh—ohhh god… yeahhhh.” and he does it without an ounce of shame too, as if a porn soundtrack in your bedroom at 8 a.m. is nothing extraordinary.

you choke on your breathe, clutching to the blankets a little too hard. when you glare at him, he only shushes you with a patronizing little tsk from across the pillows, cutting off your irritation before it can even start. “what? felt good to stretch. can't blame a guy.”

after that, it’s constant. sighs that sound just a little too much like wet moans, throaty hums when he pulls his raven hair loose from its man bun, even a breathless "ahhh—fuck” when he drops his bulky build onto the couch. each and every little sound is intentional and well-calculated. you can’t prove it, but god—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

the worst, though, is when you’re massaging his shoulders after a tiring day spent battling with curses. he’s sitting on the floor between your legs, head slumped forward to expose the long line of his neck, letting you release the thick knots in his back.

“oh-ohhh fuck, yes. right there—god, you are so good with your hands.” he drags the words out like they belong in a private bedroom, pitching into a whinier, petulant cadence which makes your pulse spike immediately.

you pause, your fingers paralyzed. “suguru. stop.” he turns his head for you to observe his lazy smile, his bottom lip jutting out just the tiniest bit in a petty pout. “whattt? i’m talking to them, not you. your hands just have a mind of their own, baby.”

you press harder into the muscle, trying to punish the smugness out of him, but the heel of your hand just forces another whimper out. “ahhh, mhhnn—yes, baby, harder... right there—”

that sly fucker.

“you're—you're doing that on purpose!”

“doing what?” he cranes his neck to look at you, eyes all wide innocence while he fights to maintain a solemn facade. “i can’t control how good it feels, no?"

his head tilts back into your lap, chasing the press of your thumbs like a curious puppy begging for attention; a satisfied, wet hum spilling from his throat.

“mnhm… don’t stop. they’re the only ones who are ever nice to me after a long day.”

his weight leans more densely into your hands, forcing your thighs to squeeze together to steady him, and that’s when you notice the tiny tilt of his hips. the thin cotton of his grey sweatpants is tenting just slightly, flimsy fabric straining with the pulsing outline of his cock. every touch of your fingers drags the material tighter, causing a dark patch to bleed across the cloth.

“you’re absolutely disgusting.” though, your voice lost all of it's footing already.

suguru lets out a throaty laugh at that as if it's the most funny thing he'd ever heard today, foxy eyes crinkling even further with humour. “am i, really? or are you just finally noticing?”

as though to back up his claim, suguru junior twitches violently beneath the thin cotton, a long ridge pressing boldly against his right thigh, to be exact. he tips his head all the way back, presenting you the elation of the smirk actively feeding his handsome face.

He’s so much bigger than you.

That’s always been true, in height, in width, in the way his body seems to swallow yours whenever he pulls you close. But nothing compares to the moment he pushes inside you. When your legs are spread wide around his hips, breathing already shaky as he slowly sinks into you. He’s thick, long, and so deep that the moment he bottoms out, your eyes flutter shut.

“Look down, baby,” he whispers, voice low and rough. One of his big hands presses gently on your lower belly. “Watch.” You look.

There it is — a visible bulge in your stomach, rising every time he thrusts forward. The shape of him is unmistakable under your skin, pressing outward with every slow, deep roll of his hips. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes fixed on the sight. “Look at that… I’m so deep inside you I can see myself.”

He pulls back slightly, then pushes in again, slower this time, watching the bulge move with him. You whimper at the overwhelming fullness, your hand instinctively reaching down to feel it. Your fingers trace the outline of his cock through your own skin, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, pressing his hand over yours so you’re both feeling it together. “That’s me, baby. That’s how deep I am. How big I am inside this tight pussy.”

He starts moving faster, hips snapping forward with controlled power. The bulge becomes more pronounced, rising and falling with every thrust. You’re gasping, moaning, completely overwhelmed by the sight and the feeling of being so utterly filled by him. He leans down, forehead pressed to yours, still watching the way his dick moves inside you.

“So fucking pretty,” he breathes. “My dick making your tummy bulge like this… You were made for me.”

When you come, it’s with his hand still pressed over the bulge, feeling every pulse as your body squeezes around him. He follows right after, groaning deeply as he spills inside you, hips grinding slow and deep so you feel every throb. He stays buried in you afterward, hand gently stroking over the slight swell in your stomach, kissing you softly.

“you seem a bit leaner lately. been skipping meals?”

his words took a few seconds to fully register. even then, your brain stalled helplessly under the hazy after-effects of many an orgasm. typical suguru to ask this sort of question. your lover who was so fiercely protective, always watching over those closest to him with an observant, gentle eye. (if only he spared a fraction of that care for himself, instead of constantly putting his own well-being last.)

“h-huh? no, i’ve been eating,”

“is that so?”

he cooed, mauve eyes glittering with jest. before you could even try to defend your appetite, a pleasantly deep thrust buried him to the hilt, making your toes curl. tears born of overstimulation and adoration pooled at the corners of your eyes. a stray strand of his raven bangs tickled your cheek as he leaned over you, his thumb sweeping to catch the bead of moisture.