my anonimity is waning

by the time you and toji arrive at the pregame, everyone's already a few drinks in. they're talking quickly, interrupting one another and barking out sharp laughs at stupid jokes until they hear the door being pushed open, the sound of two sets of footsteps joining the group.

the chatter quiets down, everyone waiting to finally see your mysterious and elusive older boyfriend who they'd heard so much about. and when toji walks in behind you with a deadpan expression on his face and a 6 pack of beer in his hand, there's a stretch of silence.

until shoko breaks it.

"this is the man who's almost forty?" 

you cringe at that, not needing to look to know that toji's eye is probably twitching, there may even be a vein bulging in his forehead— he always hated when you brought up that next big milestone, even if he was still a few years away from it.

"shit, i hope i look that good too." leave it to shoko to know how to ease the tension, even if she didn't realize she was the one that caused it.

you smile widely, lifting a hand to give toji a hard slap on the back, "he's a handsome old man, isn't he?" you tease, pretending you can't feel the way toji's glare is now burning a hole into the side of your face.

there's a little snort from across the room as satoru tries— and fails— to stifle a laugh at your relationship's dynamic. you clearly love to mess with toji, each little joke doing nothing to hide the obvious age gap between you two. each tease leaves him standing next to you, unamused, as you grin mischievously.

"you're pushin' it," he warns, leaning down to your height before turning his attention back to the room, slapping you on the back this time, "now quit being impolite— gonna introduce us or what?"

he'll scold you and try to rein you back in a bit when you're teasing him, but you just ignore it. there's no real bite to his words. it's just that instinctual kind of reaction that you get from a man his age when people are messing around a bit too much. 

he's well aware that he's a good amount older than you and he knew what he was signing up for when he'd asked you out, so he can never find it in himself to really care.

"everyone, this is toji," you state, hand palm-up, motioning to him beside you. "toji, this is everyone." you complete your very helpful introduction with a sweeping gesture of your hand across the room.

toji sighs, walking to set the beer down on the island with the rest of the drinks. "don't bitch at me the next time i don't remember anyone's names. 's not my fault at this point."

the pregame wrapped up shortly after you and toji arrived, everyone eager to get to the club early so they could snag an open table. 

you huddle close to toji in the line, chatting nonstop with shoko until the bouncer cuts in, asking to check IDs and bags. heat spills out into the cold air, wafting across your face as the heavy metal of the door scrapes along the asphalt when your party is allowed in.

the music is loud, the kind you feel more in your body from the bass than anything else, the kind that leaves your ears ringing at the end of a good night. the smell of sweat and cheap cologne is suffocating, more so than the humidity that never seems to leave an establishment like this one.

you slip your hand into toji's, tugging him along as you follow the group. half of them split off to get drinks from the bar, the rest of you claiming one of the last available booths for your group.

before you can sit down, toji pulls you closer to him, hand wrapping around your waist, lips brushing the curve of your ear. 

"i'll be back," you turn to flash him a pout, his heart tugging at the look on your face, the way you hate being separated from him even though you know he's not going far. "just gettin' our drinks, dollface." and like that, your expression is replaced with an appreciative grin.

he leaves you with a pat on your ass, turning to make his way towards the closest bar— luckily the one with the shortest line.

toji's tapping his foot, waiting for the bartender to return with his drinks when a heavy arm drapes across his shoulders. before he can get defensive, a voice rings out above the music.

"long time, no see."

he spins around to be met with a familiar face, riddled with ink, and sporting deep crimson eyes.

"no fuckin' way," toji chuckles.

there's a shit-eating grin on sukuna's face as the two old friends reunite. "you haven't changed a bit. still look like ass."

"fuck off, you even shower today?" toji shoots back, eyes sweeping over sukuna's hair with scrutiny. "anyways, what're you doing here?" he asks genuinely.

"could ask you the same thing," sukuna muses, slapping toji firmly on the back before pulling away.

"i'm here with my girl."

sukuna's smirk widens, "oh, yeah?"

toji knows where this is going. flashbacks from college flick through his mind as he remembers the two of them sharing beers, joints, women. 

whatever one of them had, the other did too.

"it's not like that with this one, she's different," toji protests lightly, but the glint in his eyes is telling a different story, one of old habits that never really died. 

there’s a whisper of untruth in his voice as his memories switch to images of you. of him talking about his college days, his old best friend. images of you asking to see pictures, and your sweet voice ringing out wait, toji, he's hot, when he showed you.

"which one is she?"

toji scans the room, extending a finger when he finds you to point you out among your friends in the booth you're sitting at. 

"over there, in the skirt." 

there's a beat of silence, both men raking over your figure with hungry eyes, tracing up the length of your legs to where your skirt is riding up, just barely reaching below your ass as you lean over the table to listen to something shoko is telling you.

"pretty little thing," sukuna finally speaks up, and toji grunts in response. "looks a bit young for you though. sure you got the right girl?" he teases, knowing he's the same age, and toji shoots him a side-eyed glance that expresses that exact sentiment. but sukuna just laughs, that sharp deep laugh that he's always had. "well, you two have fun. i'm sure i'll see you both later."

sukuna's words carry a weight that leaves them echoing inside toji's mind as he grabs your drinks and makes his way back to you, his pants feeling a little tight now.

you scoot over to make room for toji when he arrives at the table, but it's not neatly enough. he's halfway falling off the bench and with a huff of exasperation, he picks you up like you're weightless and plops you right back down onto his lap, earning him a yelp.

"toji! a little warning next time."

he just chuckles, "alright, my bad."

“so…” satoru clears his throat loudly, interrupting the moment before it even starts. "wanna play kings or something? i brought cards."

"of course you did." shoko says, rolling her eyes. 

satoru was always the one who liked to do more than sit around and talk, always offering up the idea of a game or asking to dance. but everyone still agrees, excited for a drinking game to keep the buzz going until the club starts to fill up.

you're trying to focus on the rules being explained to you, really, but it's difficult with toji's bulge pressing into your lower back. and each time it's your turn, he adjusts himself in his seat, subtle to all but you. every little movement of his hips sends a shiver through your body, a wave of heat to your core.

it's innocent to onlookers— he's just trying to get comfortable, trying to make sure you're comfortable too with the tight seating.

but you know better.

you know toji, and with toji, it's never innocent. 

he's toying with you, trying to get a rise out of you right there at the table. so when it's your turn to draw a card again, you decide to you'll play too. 

hips pushing down onto his lap, you arch, leaning forward more than necessary. a ghost of a smile graces your lips when you feel the way he tenses beneath you, his thighs twitching ever so slightly. and when you sit back down, you make sure it's not without a minuscule roll of your hips against the tent in his pants.

toji's hand comes down to your waist, squeezing tightly, fingers digging into your flesh. you can't see it now, but you're sure his jaw is just as stiff, teeth clenched tight as he holds you in place.

breathing steadily through his nose, toji fights to maintain his composure. but fuck— with the way your skirt is riding up, the fabric barely on your legs, starting to bunch up around your hips— he’s really not sure how much longer he can keep up appearances around your friends.

a hand slides lower, coming to rest on your thigh as you wiggle slightly in toji's grasp.

"quit it." he's terse, his voice low in your ear as his hand grips the hem of your skirt, trying and failing to tug it slightly down your thighs.

it's not that he cares if you're wearing something short or showing some skin— actually, he's very much in favor of that— but right now, as he's sitting at a table with your friends that he's met for the first time tonight, it's killing him.

he's trying to have some decorum, and you make it so fucking hard.

"i gotta piss," toji grunts, picking you up again and helping you stand as he moves to get up.

smoothing out your skirt, you pretend you're unfazed by the abrupt movement, fighting to keep back a smile as you tell him to "have fun." your boyfriend just rolls his eyes at that before turning away, hand coming down to adjust the bulge in his pants as he makes his way across the floor.

your eyes slide to the table, seeing the empty glasses where you were sitting, and you decide you may as well make your own trip while you're up.

"i'm gonna get some more drinks for us, i'll be right back," you address no one in particular, your friends all muttering a quick reply as you head back to the bar.

the club was a lot busier now, a crowd of bodies swarming around you, elbows jutting into your side and shoulders bumping into your back. the once quick trip to the bar has become a journey as you fight your way through the masses so you can get in line.

it's warmer, the body heat radiating off those next to you drawing a small sweat to your forehead as you seek to make eye contact with one of the bartenders. eventually, one of them sees you, giving you a nod and motioning for you to order.

your hands on the countertop, you're leaning over on your tip-toes. you're trying to get closer to the bartender as he lends you his ear, needing to shout over the music and chatter around you.

"double vodka soda and an old fashioned, please."

and just as you're opening your purse and reaching for your wallet, you're tapped on the shoulder. 

you spin around, expecting toji to be behind you, only to be met with brown eyes and blonde hair— bleached blonde hair. and he definitely didn't know what toner was.

"let me get that for you," he starts, holding up his own card.

you shrug, quick to close your purse again. if he really wanted to buy your drinks then you weren't going to protest. you knew toji wouldn't either, that man loves a free drink.

actually, he loves a free anything— but that's beside the point.

mustering up your best fake smile, you clasp your hands together, "really? thank you so much!"

"sure,” the arrogant smirk that seems to be permanent on the man's face widens. “so, what's your—"

when the bartender returns with your drinks and the stranger’s card, you grab the glasses quickly and turn to leave. 

"thanks for the drink! have a nice night."

if only it were that easy.

a firm hand around your arm stops you, tugging you back in front of the man who paid for you. "the hell? i just bought your drink, can't i at least get your number?"

you shake your head, "no, i've got a boyfriend."

his smirk falters at that, eyes quickly searching around behind you before settling back on your body, trailing over it. his gaze lingers on your chest, sending a wave of discomfort through you as you gently try to pull your arm away from him.

"no guy would let their girl go out dressed like that," he tugs you closer, the stench of his cologne wafting into your nose.

god damn, where is toji? 

you sigh internally, thinking about how difficult it was just to get to the bar, you can't imagine having to go all the way to the bathrooms and back. he's probably still squeezing his way through the crowd, and he might not even swing by the bar.

"well, he came here with me," you argue back, still trying to put some distance between you two.

"really? i don't see anyone here with you—"

"there you are, you got our drinks?"

another hand has now wrapped around your other arm, not needing to pull you away for the stranger to finally let go of you.

you turn quickly, unfamiliar with the voice that just addressed you so casually.

"and who the fuck are you?" he spits, crimson eyes narrowed down at the blonde man. 

you were about to ask him that.

hands up in surrender, the problem backs away, "my fault man, didn't know she was taken."

"that's crazy because she just fuckin' told you she was."

you're staring up at your new stranger, racking your brain for where you've seen him before. 

he's got such a distinct look you can't believe you don't remember where you know him from. tattoos stretching across his body, his face, silver piercings on his nose and lips.

sharp jawline, big nose— he was hot. you'd definitely remember if you'd met him somewhere.

"keep staring and i might tell toji you're comin' on to me."

his voice pulls you from your thoughts. that's how you've seen him before.

"you're sukuna, right?"

a sly grin splits his lips, tongue darting out to lick them. "that's right."

your wrist still in his hold, his thumb traces lightly along your skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface. you know you should pull away from him too, but you can't bring yourself to with the way he presses on your pulse point, gently squeezing your wrist. "let's get you back to toji, yeah?"

"i heard my name." speak of the devil. "what's goin' on here?"

shit, this probably looks bad.

and before you can get a word out, sukuna's already answered. "just protecting my girl from other men," sukuna shrugs, hand disconnecting from your arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you up against his side.

this fucking guy.

"i'm not—" you start before getting cut off.

"oh yeah?" toji muses, reaching for his drink which you hand to him, his eyes flitting between you and sukuna.

"yeah, but we're about to go dance." sukuna plucks your drink from your other hand, giving that one to toji too.

"mmm, i see," toji's gaze settles on you, eyes searching yours, communicating silently before he continues.

he sees the way you've already relented in sukuna's hold, your body shifted towards his as you're standing closer together.

"then at least put on a nice show."

with that you're being dragged away, feet stumbling behind sukuna as he leads you to the dance floor. toji is following closely behind, only parting ways to take a seat in a corner booth near the floor.

you don't have time to think much about it— if this is really okay, or if toji is going to be upset. he's never been a jealous type, but still you're unsure. sukuna was so bold, his words teasing but carrying the weight of genuine attraction.

"c'mere," sukuna's hands rest on your hips, spinning you around until your back is flush against his chest.

you gasp at the sudden contact, the heat radiating off his body enveloping you as he keeps you pressed up against him. he's unhurried, guiding your hips easily, side to side as he moves with you.

the bass thumps in your ears, colorful lights flashing and distorting the scenes around you as you scan the room, vision finally narrowing in on toji in his booth.

it's not too far but the lights barely reach it, making him difficult to see but now that you know he's there, you can tell he's looking at you.

drink in his hand, he raises the glass to his lips, eyes locked on you and his friend behind you. there's a familiar ache building between your legs as your mind rushes over the last interaction with them, the look toji gave you just before sukuna led you away, the way he was teasing you earlier when you were on his lap.

testing the waters you roll your hips back, ass pressing against sukuna's crotch as his hands tighten on your waist.

"careful," sukuna warns before grinding up against you.

a sigh slips past your lips at the feeling of his growing bulge sitting against your ass. 

he's shameless, pulling you back to meet his movements as he ruts against you, making sure you can feel the way his cock hardens in his pants.

but it's not like you're any better. 

you feel like a virgin— you've done nothing but dance with the man and you can feel your panties are already wet. your slick coats the gusset of the flimsy fabric as your core twists with each movement.

rough hands slide along your hips, down towards your thighs. sukuna reaches for the sides of your ass, fingers dipping under your skirt to grope at the fat, kneading and spreading your cheeks apart as you continue to grind back against him.

fuck, toji has told him a bit about your relationship before, so he knew you weren't a prude, but this?

you'd probably let him fuck you right here in the club.

fingertips drifting along your skin, a shiver runs through your body and you can feel the rumble in sukuna's chest as he laughs behind you at the reaction.

he's so close. tracing along the tops of your thighs under your skirt, just barely grazing the lace of your panties. you don't care that there's people dancing behind you, blissfully unaware of what's happening between you and sukuna, you need more.

you wiggle your hips, head craning to look back up at sukuna who's towering behind you as you try to urge him to keep going.

his hands stay put, not drifting any nearer to where you're nearly dripping and choosing instead to stay pressed against your pelvis, toying with the fabric of your underwear.

"need something?" sukuna asks, tone innocent as he pulls on the elastic before letting it snap back against your skin.

you jolt at the slight sting, a small moan escaping you and making sukuna's cock jump. 

you were going to be fun.

brows furrowed and eyes pleading, you grind harder against him— hoping he'll get the message.

and you think he's going to give you what you want when you feel one of his hands sliding further, brushing along the front of your panties. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers inch lower, threatening to dip between your thighs which you part ever so slightly.

sukuna grins at that, lips twitching upwards at how pliant you are. spreading your legs for him here, next to all these strangers and in front of your boyfriend because you need him to touch you that badly.

his grin only widens when he sees the pout on your lips when he retracts his hand just before reaching the apex of your thighs.

"what's wrong?" sukuna coos, relishing in the frustration starting to seep into your expression.

toji knows that look. he can see exactly what face you're making from where he's sitting, drink in one hand while the other palms at his crotch.

your bottom lip jutted out and eyebrows knit together as you frown up at sukuna. the look you get on your face when you're starting to get desperate.

he can't help but press harder against his pants, craving the friction to ease some of the throbbing in his cock as toji thinks about you.

thinks about all the times you've looked at him that way, always just before you start begging for him to touch you, taste you, fuck you. you didn't care as long as you had your clit played with and your cunt stuffed full. 

needy little thing.

fuck, and it’s not like he wasn't always feeling the same way. he was constantly fighting to keep it together just to hear that one word falling from your pretty lips—

"please," you gasp, head lolling back and resting on sukuna's shoulder as you nudge your nose against his neck. his cologne is musky, the warm scent guiding you deeper into his grasp as his fingers press into your skin.

he didn't even need to ask and you're already here begging him. sukuna's eyes shut for a moment, chest filling with air as he inhales deeply, curbing his own arousal with sheer willpower.

"please what, baby?"

"just need you, please— anything," you speak softly. you know he can hear you, his hips stuttering, pressing harder against your ass.

"tell me how badly you need me," sukuna replies, voice tense as he finally reaches between your legs.

your hips jerk at the feeling of his touch, his fingers prodding at your clothed sex. a low groan resounds behind you when he feels how wet you are.

"so badly, please sukuna— wanna feel good, please."

"fuck, you're soaked down here. you always get this wet?"

you feel your cheeks flush, remembering something similar coming from toji at the beginning of your relationship.

head nodding, you reply silently, earning you another groan when two fingers hook into your panties and tug them aside.

"fuckin’ perfect," sukuna grunts, the pads of his fingers sliding between your folds, collecting your slick before drifting upwards.

bottom lip worried between your teeth you bite back a moan when he finds your clit, all puffy and sensitive with your arousal as he brushes over it.

the slightest contact sending shockwaves coursing through you as your hands reach back to grip his t-shirt.

"so responsive. sensitive, baby?"

you nod again, giving sukuna a little mhm which you're not even sure he catches. but he already knew what the answer would be.

fingers pressing harder, he rubs tight little circles around the bud and you can't hold back your moan this time. soft and honeyed, the sound reaches sukuna's ears and he's addicted instantly. desperate to hear more, his fingers work you faster.

toji exhales, long and slow at the sight before him. his drink long forgotten, there's a ring of condensation around the bottom as he fumbles with his belt.

sukuna's hands are under your skirt and he’s watching you with lidded eyes. toji can see the way your legs are shifting, your head bent back and mouth parted. you're facing him, but unaware of his gaze as you lose yourself in the pleasure you're getting from sukuna.

he wasn't sure at first if you would be open to doing this— to letting him share you— but he should have known.

metal belt buckle clinking, toji finally gets it undone and reaches for his zipper. he tugs it down and shimmies his pants and briefs down over his ass, just enough to free his cock. 

aching, he can feel the blood pumping through it, the angry tip already leaking pre before he even wraps his hand around it.

you don't notice, but sukuna does.

he sees the way his friend is leaning back against the booth, one arm resting on the table and the other underneath it.

he sees the way his friend—your boyfriend—is smirking, gaze filled with lust as he watches your legs start to shake.

your breathing is faster and you can feel your orgasm approaching, your pussy clamping down around nothing until sukuna stops. fingers pulling away from your clit and drawing a whine from you as your eyes glare up at him.

"not yet," sukuna drawls, the hand on your hip pushing you forward to create enough space between the two of you so he can unzip his own pants, "need to feel that pussy cum on my cock."

toji groans, hand jerking his cock languidly— sukuna's seriously going to fuck you here? his grip tightens, wrist twisting as he pumps himself to the view of you, the thought of you being filled to the brim by his best friend in the middle of the dance floor.

your stomach flips, an ounce of awareness flowing back into you as your climax starts to fade away. 

your head lifts up, eyes gazing around you, now hyper-aware of what toji was just thinking about. sukuna is seriously planning on fucking you right here and now, when anyone who's just not drunk enough, not distracted enough, could take one look and know exactly what was going on.

"w-wait, are you sure— oh god, fuck-"

flipping the back of your skirt up, sukuna wastes no time slipping his cock between your thighs. the shaft sits in your panties, gliding between your lips as he presses his hips back against your ass. the head catches on the soiled fabric, precum joining the arousal that’s already dampened it. 

you're immediately grinding back onto him, feeling each vein and the mushroom tip rubbing along your cunt as you leak onto him, juices coating his length.

that's all it took for you to forget about your surroundings again. not a worry on your mind, just cock-drunk and desperate as you reach between your legs. soft fingers wrapping gently around him, sukuna twitches in your hand, needing to bite down on his lip to keep from cumming right then and there.

you're up on your tip-toes again, trying to guide him towards your entrance, fumbling around until you're able to feel the tip of his cock prodding at your hole.

"fuck baby, you're gonna kill me," sukuna groans, rolling his hips, a strangled sound following his words when he feels the head push past that ring of resistance and finally slip inside. 

and god, you were so fucking tight. he should have fingered you before. slipped two, maybe three inside your pussy, curling and pumping them in and out of you to stretch you open. but he couldn't wait any longer.

your nails dig into the skin on his hips as you grip onto him for stability, the head alone already feeling like it's splitting you in half. you don't know how you're going to take all of him.

eyes clamped shut, you let out a shaky exhale. "too big— 's not gonna fit."

"it'll fit, but you gotta relax for me," sukuna coos, voice soft despite fighting the urge to slam himself into you, burying himself in one fluid motion.

instead, he reaches back around, giving attention to your clit once more. rubbing you in the way you like, he works you over while pressing deeper inside, inch by inch as your pussy gets wetter for him.

"thaaat's it, see how well you're takin' me?"

his praise makes your core tighten, heat rising to your cheeks as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. you don't even realize you've been holding your breath until you feel sukuna bottom out, the two of you releasing a collective moan.

toji's jaw is tight, teeth clenched as his chest heaves, his own orgasm building. 

you're both hot, and he can't deny how good you look together. sukuna’s arm around your waist, holding you close to him while the other is still under your skirt. your lips plant slow, wet kisses to the side of sukuna's neck and he tilts his head, jawline on display as he gives you better access to his throat.

red irises find green ones, the two men unable to break eye contact as you worship sukuna with your mouth and with your pussy that's wrapped tight and fluttering around him, clenching when he starts to move. 

he doesn't look away while he pulls his hips back, his length dragging along your gummy walls until only half of him is still inside you. he doesn't look away from toji when he thrusts back inside, a sharp snap of his hips that makes your tits bounce and your eyes slide shut.

allowing the saliva to gather in his mouth, toji finally breaks eye contact, just for a moment to let his spit fall, the fat glob landing right on the tip of his cock.

"fuuuck," sukuna groans, low and hungry as he sets a steady pace.

he wishes he could fuck into you without restraint, at whatever pace he wants in whatever position he wants— but he can't. forced to hold back so you're less likely to get caught, rutting into you with lazy thrusts as his fingers continue rubbing tight circles on your clit.

you can taste the salt from the sweat on his skin, swiping your tongue along his neck before latching your lips on again and sucking gently. 

his arm is firm around your torso, hugging you close and squeezing your stomach. the added pressure leaves you squirming in his hold, his cock feeling even bigger, deeper, with the weight on your tummy.

"so fuckin' tight, baby," sukuna grunts. you can smell the liquor on his lips just before his tongue laps at that spot just behind your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

your hands release their grip on his hips, drifting higher to card through his hair, the short undercut sifting between your fingers while his teeth nip at your earlobe.

"s'kuna," you rasp, voice breathless as the pads of his fingers press harder, rougher against your poor, sensitive clit. you're throbbing around him, and he knows you're close.

"you gonna cum?"

you nod quickly, mumbling a quiet 'uh-huh' which leaves a feral grin on his face. 

he's been wanting to feel you gushing around him since the moment toji pointed you out to him and now that he’s getting what he wants, he can't hold himself back. just once, sukuna tells himself before he pulls out all the way and slams back in, his ears just barely registering the slick sound of your pussy when he does.

"o-oh fuck!" you cry out into his shoulder, teeth biting down to muffle your voice.

"gonna miss this pretty pussy." sukuna's rougher, more careless with his thrusts, getting hooked on that last brutal one. he's craving the way your cunt constricted around him when he bullied his cock back inside and the little sob you let out because of it.

sukuna’s fingers are working faster, pressing harder, to match his new pace and toji can see the way sukuna’s arm is flexing. veins littering the limb as he drives you towards your peak. and of course he hasn't missed the way sukuna's fucking you now— each thrust has your tits jiggling, threatening to spill out of the little top you have on.

and you have no fucking clue.

to dumb on the feeling of being stretched out on sukuna's dick, you have no idea how much of a show you're giving toji— how much of a show you're almost giving everyone else.

gripping tighter, toji strokes himself faster. wet with spit and precum, his hand glides easily along the shaft and still the feeling doesn't even come close to what he knows sukuna is experiencing right now. that pussy is probably dripping around his base, the insides of your thighs, down to his balls—

"shit, doll—" toji grunts, his free hand coming under the table to cup his own balls, tugging gently as he feels his release building.

"kuna— kuna, 'm gonna cum," you're babbling softly into his neck, lips brushing against his skin and he knows he's close too but he'll be damned you don't cum first.

"open your eyes," his voice is gruff, cutting through your tunnel vision and drawing your attention back to him as he drives you to your peak. "there ya go, head up, baby. look at your pretty boyfriend when you're cumming on my cock."

your vision hazy from your eyes being clamped shut, you scan for toji, a lopsided smile settling on your lips when you meet his stare. his brows are furrowed, his mouth agape, and you can see his climax washing over him the minute yours hits.

the minute you're shaking in sukuna's arms, gasping for breath as you cum is the moment that ruins toji. with a guttural groan he's tugging on himself one last time before his balls are twitching, ropes of cum spurting from his tip into his hand and onto his thighs under the table.

"yeah, that's it— fucking milkin' me, baby." sukuna's losing his rhythm, his hips faltering as your pussy keeps quivering around him, and you keep whimpering his name into his ear, the overstimulation leaving your brain fuzzy.

"gonna fill you up, you want that?" you're nodding your head even before the whole question is out, just eager to give him whatever he wants.

"yeah, she loves that shit, don't ya, doll?" toji's voice cutting in sends your eyes flying open to see him standing before you, signature smirk on his face. he brings a hand to yours, grabbing your chin in his hands he tilts your head up to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes as sukuna keeps fucking you from behind. "you wanna walk out of here with his cum dripping down your legs, don't you?"

it's not really a question that time— he knows it's true. and still you answer, nodding your head and sukuna can't take his eyes off you two.

the tension between you is spreading to him, enveloping him in your arousal as he teeters on the edge of his release, he just needs that one last push—

"tell him then, be a good girl."

your head falls back, eyes looking up at sukuna as he stares down at you with hunger, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. "kunaaa," you whine, "want you to cum inside me— wanna feel it filling me up, please."

he never stood a chance. 

the second the words leave your mouth he's moaning out your name, his cock twitching once before he's spilling inside you. rope after rope of his seed filling your pussy as he sighs deeply, hand slipping out of your panties before he pulls out.

sukuna's quick to adjust the soiled undergarment, pulling it taut as his spend starts to seep out of your poor hole onto the fabric.

you squeeze your knees together, smoothing down your skirt as you just pray that your panties will hold up until you're back home. sukuna grins, tucking himself away while toji slips an arm around your waist, finally getting to feel the warmth of you pressed up against him again.

"you two gonna head out?" sukuna questions, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair while the three of you make your way off the dance floor.

"yeah, gotta clean this messy girl up," toji chuckles, prompting you to swat at him.

"you're so annoying," you huff before turning back to sukuna. "maybe we'll see you again sometime?"

sukuna raises a brow at that, teeth bared in a quick smile, "long as your boyfriend doesn't mind— i'm more than willing to make that happen."

toji rolls his eyes, hand sliding to your lower back as he guides you out in front of him, "yeah, yeah, we know."

likes, comments, reblogs always appreciated ! i have more works here ♡

a/n thank u to the lovely @junuru for beta reading this for me mwah

Your mouth fell open. His did too.

Watching you slowly blink, eyes slowly narrowing into a squint as he panicked and pushed out some frantic explanation, holding his hands up as he tried to make it sound somehow less creepy, “Look, you just never know if the guy you pick already has like, fifty other kids, and what if your baby meets one of them and doesn’t know that they’re siblings and-” 

“You don’t want me to use a sperm donor because you think my hypothetical kid might accidentally fuck their sibling?” 

Okay, wow, that was worse. 

“I’m just saying you wouldn’t have to worry about that sort of stuff with me,” he continued, choking on the lump in his throat before clearing his throat. “You already know I have great genes.” 

And like he wasn’t already shooting himself in the foot just by speaking, he flexed his bicep with a stupid grin on his face, t-shirt straining against his muscles just for you to roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re twenty-eight,” you bluntly said, as if he had ever given a shit about being younger than you before. 

If he was the same age, would you see him differently? 

He had asked himself that too many times to count. Enough that the hurt that it came with had seeped into his bones and started to live there. Weighing him down as he wondered how you would treat him if he met you later, when you were both older, somewhere neutral. 

Would you want him the way he wanted you?

“And?” He whined, pouting as you resisted the urge to shut him down harder. “Doesn’t that mean I have, like, even better sperm?”

“Satoru, you’re gonna meet some gorgeous girl and get married, and then it’s just going to be weird if-” You started, shaking your head dismissively. 

“I’m not,” Satoru cut you off before you could finish coming up with weak excuses, like he’d ever met anyone he thought was half as gorgeous as you.  

You made that cute little face you always did when you wanted to argue with him but couldn’t come up with anything that would make him agree with you. 

“You don’t know that,” you said after a few short moments, leaning in closer, oblivious that the next whiff of your perfume was enough to make him lose what little reason he had left. 

“What if I pinky promise?” 

“That you’ll never have kids with anyone else?” You gawked at him, face scrunching up in confusion. “That’s literally ridiculous. You know I’d never ask you to-” 

“I was going to get a vasectomy in a couple years anyway,” he lied in a panic, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t really care when he had literally never cared more about the simple notion of some stranger’s sperm winning out over his. 

“You never mentioned that,” you quietly pouted back, like you were a little upset at the idea he never brought it up. But at least you believed it. 

“If I was even ever going to have one,” He paused, dragging his chair closer to the table to stretch over it and wipe some icing stuck to the corner of your mouth, dredging up something he knew without a doubt was the truth to make up for his bullshit. “I’d want it to be with you anyway.” 

You stared at him, his fingers still grazing against your mouth before he dropped his hand and reclined back in his chair, as if there was even a scrap of his cool left to recover. Shrugging his shoulders as he scrambled for something to say before you could call him an idiot for even suggesting something like that. 

“I could even pay for it,” he grinned like this was some grand gesture instead of him desperately clinging onto this chance. He didn't like to just throw money at problems – but he'd throw his entire dignity in the trash can if it meant when you were waddling around pregnant in six months, that it would be his baby you were carrying. “What else are best friends for?” 

Personally, he’d prefer to add father of your child (and future husband) to his resume, but he was used to accepting whatever you offered. 

“Satoru,” you said his name slowly, sounding out the syllables so he could hear the hint of scolding in them. But you didn't dismiss him. 

He smiled at you, and it was just as easy as it had always been. Comfortable. Cozy.

“It's not a big deal,” Satoru shrugged. “I want what you want.”

Even if it meant pulling down his pants and jerking off in a cup a few weeks later after you admitted that maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible to have the hottest guy you knew contribute his sperm to create the cutest child ever – not that you worded it exactly like that. He guessed his promise of paying all the bills may have also helped sway your decision. 

The whole thing was sorta scary, waiting and hoping for updates from there about egg retrieval and embryo viability, feeling like a loser checking his phone two hundred times a day when he wasn’t with you and showing up at your place with meals, trying to pick out foods that were good for someone doing IVF. 

You always let him in, even if you hummed and huffed that he didn’t have to do it. 

Satoru clung to claiming that he just wanted to be supportive.

Carrying you back to your bed after you crashed on the couch, tucking you under the blankets and cleaning up the dinner, stuffing the styrofoam boxes down in the trash can while he cursed himself for not just coming clean about his feelings fifteen fucking years ago. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure you even saw him as a man. Didn’t realize he wasn’t the awkward, lanky preteen or scrawny kid he used to be despite the fact he’d been taller than you for over half your lives now. 

You didn’t even blink when you woke up to him sleeping with no shirt on your couch, the blanket deliberately draped at his hips to show off his sculpted abs, just yawning and walking past him, already showered and fully dressed, applying lip gloss as you scrolled on your phone. 

“Just lock the door after you leave,” you hummed, dropping your phone back in your purse and picking up your shoes before returning back to the couch to sit on top of his calves so you could slip them on. A few years ago, he might have pretended to groan, to tease you for being on him, but now he just felt utterly hopeless at how hard he was savoring the connection, the weight of you on him even when it was totally platonic. Blinking sleepily and staring at your side profile as you bent over to slide your shoes on, preemptively picturing where you both might be in nine months. Would he be helping you get them on then? Putting his hand on your stomach and feeling his baby kick underneath your skin?

“Where are you going?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes before he propped himself up on his elbows. 

“Today’s the day,” you casually said, and after a painfully long pause, it clicked. 

“Like, the day?” He gawked, adrenaline overwriting the exhaustion at the thought that you could be coming back home with his babies implanted inside you. 

“We don’t know if it will take,” you muttered. The cocky half of him wanted to remind you that the doctors had said that his sperm was high quality, tempted to turn it into a joke and break the tension, make some childish offer. But he held it in, reached out to brush his fingers against your arm. 

“How many are they implanting?” He asked, tracing a faint little heart over your skin you didn’t seem to notice. 

“Just one,” you answered with a little sigh, biting your lip to hide the hint of a smile curling up and betraying the hint of excitement under the surface you were trying not to feel. “A girl.”

And then you were standing back up, readjusting your purse over your shoulder as you searched it for your keys, despite the fact they were sitting on your kitchen counter instead. 

“Can I come?” He asked, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks as you puckered your lips together, shuffling on your feet. Was it so fucking wrong to want to be in the room at least when he got you pregnant? 

“It’s not like-” 

“I could drive you,” Satoru offered, hyperaware of how hopelessly desperate his own voice sounded. “I have the day off anyway.” 

He didn’t, but he’d call out sick if he had to, fake a coughing fit and convince Ijichi to push back all his meetings or come in at absurd hours to catch up on stuff if he had to.

Satoru didn’t want to miss a single appointment. Didn’t want to let you do it alone – no matter how strong he knew you were. You never needed him. But he needed you. 

Craved being the guy you depended on. Trusted to help take care of you. 

You glanced back at him, tilting your head to the side with that cute little sigh of yours you always made right before you caved in. 

“Fine.”ᘏ⑅ᘏ

“Do you think she’ll like it?” 

For a man who was only supposed to be a sperm donor, Satoru Gojo was acting far more like a father. 

Your best friend standing outside your front door with shopping bags of baby stuff, stumbling through your threshold with that stupidly charming cheeky smile. And when he realized he was about to be scolded, he started dramatically sniffing the air as he peeked past you to see what you were cooking, eagerly changing the subject before you could comment on what he brought, “Whatcha making?” 

“How many different outfits do you think she needs?” You rolled your eyes as you eyed him suspiciously, sighing as you shut the door behind him. Satoru just laughed, already piling up everything on your coffee table as you self-consciously tried to pull down your t-shirt from where it was sticking to the swell of your stomach, threatening to ride up and show off your growing baby bump. Only five months in and barely fitting into any of your old stuff anymore, despite how many prenatal yoga classes you attended or midnight cravings you ignored. 

He looked as perfect as he always did. White hair tousled and the sleeves of his button-up rolled up on his forearms, veins sticking out as he glanced up at you with those irritatingly sparkly blue eyes. God, you couldn’t remember a single time you’d seen him look bad. 

Even when you were younger, you couldn't escape the effect he seemed to have on everyone else. It didn't help that your family worked for his, that you got a front row seat to watch him get everything he ever wanted. Hyper aware of all the differences in his life than yours, what world he'd been born into that you just happened to occupy. Only able to stare from the sidelines, the bottom row of the bleachers, pointedly aware that he occupied a certain position above everyone else. 

You’d grown up glaring as your other friends fawned over him, strangers approaching him in public to shove their numbers at him or shyly flirt while he smiled at the affection he was showered with. It wasn’t his fault. You didn’t even hold it against him, not when over time, you’d found yourself increasingly, um, fond of him.

 But you couldn’t just ignore who he was when it trickled down to every aspect of your own life. 

All the guys you started seeing never lasted long. 

Either assholes who cheated on you or dickheads who dumped you, both always citing how little they could stand Satoru, just insecure, you supposed, unable to tolerate your best friend and his sometimes annoying antics. He had a bad habit of showing up right when you were about to go on dates, swinging by late at night or bringing presents just because. 

You tried to explain that it was just how he was. Satoru had spent his entire life being spoiled and sheltered. Spoiling you in return was one of the few ways he knew how to show affection. And when he could drop a few bands a day without noticing so much as a tiny dent in his bank account, it wasn't like money or gifts meant anything to him. 

And here you were now, feeling like you were taking advantage of it anyway, single and pregnant while your best friend bought your (his?) baby teething toys and the most expensive car seat stroller combos, helping turn your spare bedroom into a nursery on the weekends while you reminded him (and yourself) over and over again that you didn’t expect him to do any of it. 

Satoru didn't just blur the lines. 

He buried them. 

Took a shovel and tossed so much sand over it that it was impossible to tell where they originally were. And after the first embryo was successfully implanted, once you went to the first scan and saw the tiny little blob that would be your baby, you seemed to be making meals for three instead of two most days when the man who helped make it insisted on coming over after he got off work nearly every evening.

Sometimes, he'd arrive with takeout or groceries, but he never showed up empty handed. 

“How's our, um, this little princess doing?” Satoru grinned after he corrected himself, walking over to squat down in front of you, tapping your stomach like he was trying to wake her up. 

“She keeps kicking,” you murmured, biting your lip as his palm abruptly pressed flat as if he was hoping to experience it for himself. His hand was warm through your thin shirt, his thumb subtly dragging a small semi-circle as you continued, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

“Lay down,” he muttered, just as a faint flutter stirred in your stomach, the sensation of your baby moving around still alien and strange as you watched the slow smile spread up on his face as he felt it too. “I’ll finish cooking.” 

“You suck-” 

Satoru pressed one long finger against your lips before you could argue with him, shaking his head as he scoffed, “I’ve been taking classes.” 

“When?” You pouted, a hand on your hip as you racked your brain for when he’d even have the opportunity when you practically had to shoo him out of your place half the time. 

“Every other Tuesday,” he retorted – and then he was gently trying to guide you over to your couch, not stopping until you were sitting down and he was putting the remote in your hand. 

Begrudgingly flipping through boring movies, readjusting a pillow behind your back before you gave up and started sorting through the bags of stuff he brought with him. 

Blue dresses. Pink bows. Extra diapers and wipes. Swaddles. 

A two-pack of onesies featuring the words MOMMY’S ANGEL and DADDY’S PRINCESS embroidered across the chest. 

A small voice in your head rationally suggested that you should set some better boundaries. Tell him you weren’t going to put her in that second one when he was supposed to be more like a…rich uncle? Family friend? 

Well, something other than daddy. 

But some awful part of you sort of liked it.

Liked how much his attention was devoted to you, how you couldn’t exactly ever feel lonely when he was always around, always willing to step into whatever box he thought you needed from him. He didn’t complain. Never groaned or gritted his teeth and acted like you were too much. Always able to make you laugh and smile, holding your hair back when you were nauseous and holding your bags for you in public. 

Even if all of it was only platonic. 

You weren’t stupid enough to think his interest in you was romantic. 

He could pick anyone. Go out and come home with a girlfriend in two hours if he wanted to.

Satoru was simply excited to share this with you, at the idea of a little infant that might have his hair or his eyes, his ego probably ballooning and bigger than ever because you chose him to have it with. 

The one thing you could never afford was letting yourself have a crush on him.

Especially when his care right now was temporary. 

It would probably fade after your baby was born, once she was crying and crawling and required more than just trinkets and toys to thrive. You didn’t think he’d disappear. But he would move on, focus on his work or his other friends, return to his more spontaneous visits as he resumed his role as your best friend rather than baby daddy.

Which was fine. 

Completely, totally, fine. 

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Satoru hummed, handing you a warm bowl before clearing off a space on the coffee table for you to put it before rushing back to grab napkins and a drink for you to go with it. You stared at him. Struggling to ignore how sturdy his frame was, how handsome, how steady he’d turned out as he hurried around, casually rummaging through your cabinets to pick out a glass while he acted like he was perfectly at home here when his own place was probably three times bigger, your heart thumping a little too loud for your own comfort as you caught a glimpse of that cute crinkle by his eyes when he turned his head.

You loved him. 

As a friend. 

You were content to raise your daughter by yourself, made the decision to have her because you knew you could. 

But maybe you could enjoy his attention while you had it. 

Hold onto how things were before he got bored. 

And whatever this fluttering in your stomach was, the one that you couldn’t blame on the baby in there, it would pass.

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

Satoru only realized the depth of his own stupidity when he was realized just how fucking hard it was to stay best friends watching you waddle around swollen and seven months pregnant with his baby. Barefoot with powdered sugar dusting your fingertips, one hand casually resting on your stomach and leaving a print on your loose pajama shirt while you baked your favorite dessert, babbling about how badly you were craving it in between complaining about how much your back was aching. 

He’d known his pining was pathetic from an early age. 

Forced to acknowledge it post-puberty when you started going on dates and he had to resist the temptation to punch a wall and tell you that no one was good enough for you. Discomfort and anger crawling under his skin at the idea of you giving anyone else who obviously didn’t deserve you any of the time that should be his. 

And now, despite the (lack of) wisdom age had added, he was still just stuck staring at you with an open mouth like a moron as you glanced back at him, glowing no matter how much you complained about how awful you thought you looked. 

His pants had never been fucking tighter around you. 

Boner carefully concealed with one of your throw pillows, long legs stretched out on your couch as he pretended to scroll on his phone. 

Every day only seemed to get harder too. More of a struggle to shove down his feelings when you started to rely on him more. Leaning against his shoulder, holding onto his forearm, your fingers skimming over his skin as you started to casually cling to him the same way he always hung onto you. Asking him for massages, laying your head on his lap, playing with his hair when you walked by him. Your stare had started to stick to him more, catching you watching him when you thought he wasn't looking. 

Satoru had spent years dreaming of this easy domesticity with you. 

Walking through your door to find you already making a meal big enough to share, baking or singing to yourself, peeking out and smiling at him without even being surprised. Expecting to see him there. 

And still, he only ever got to sleep on the couch. 

Didn't get to hug you or hold your hand or kiss you at the end of the night. 

He wanted to invite you back to his place, see if you’d spend it with him if he changed up this new normal, but he was scared that you’d decline. That he’d fuck up this tightrope he was walking before he made it to the other side. 

Um, and maybe because he’d turned one of his own extra rooms from storage to a pretty, pink nursery too. Just in case you asked him to babysit, or uh, wanted any extra help with her. 

But there was a subtle edge to your behavior, your softness sometimes switching abruptly, going cold or sharp when least expected it, suddenly getting short with him when he got a little too close. Hormones, maybe? 

It wasn’t like he could ask without receiving a lecture that he shouldn’t blame your feelings on your hormones just because they didn’t match whatever he thought they should. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” you commented with a huff, turning on the timer on the microwave after you shut the stove. 

“Jus’ thinking,” he hummed, trying to avoid the urge to spill out his dirty secret. 

“About?” You tilted your head to the side, almost bumping into the baby swing he built last weekend as you walked back over to him, starting to bend over to try and lift one of his legs instead of just sitting on him like you used to. 

He patted his thighs, as if you would actually take him up on it, just to earn a dramatic hand on your hip, pouting hard. 

“You’re really making a pregnant lady stand?” You muttered dryly, jutting your bottom lip out further.

“There’s a perfectly good seat right here,” he teased, grinning as his hand reached out, leaning forward, about to gently graze against your waist when- 

You started crying.  

Big tears welling up in your eyes before he could so much as blink, your brows knitting together in frustration as your own fingers rushed to wipe them away. 

His mouth fell open, words automatically spilling out, “Sorry, I’ll move, I-”

“You’re an asshole,” you hissed, breath hitching as you started to turn away from him, and he was shoving himself up off the couch, hurrying to spin you around by your wrist only for you to yank your arm away from him. 

“What did I do?” He gawked, blinking hard and fast, panic seizing in his chest as he desperately tried to search your face for any sign. 

“You keep acting like-” You stopped yourself, just vaguely gesturing up-and-down at his body before you scoffed and buried your face in your hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot for thinking that this was a good idea.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” he argued, pulling your hand down so he could wipe away your tears himself. Dragging his thumb under your eyes and cupping your cheeks to force you to look at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“We need, like, boundaries, or-” “Boundaries?” 

Okay, sure, boundaries were normal, needed even, in most relationships. But he’d be lying if he said the idea of you putting up walls and pushing him away with new rules didn’t make him want to vomit. 

“You keep treating me like I’m your girlfriend,” you said, eyes wide and wavering as you barely managed to meet his stare. “Like, this means something more-” 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

He knew he shouldn’t have said it the moment he heard how it sounded out loud. Heard the sharp inhale you sucked in, how shattered it came out. “Stop-” 

“You mean everything to me,” he blurted out before you could break his heart, ready to beg, to barter, to do whatever he had to just so you would see it. 

“Don't say that,” you whispered, shaking your head as you tried to take a step back. “Not when you don't mean it.”

“I do,” he huffed, holding onto you as he again attempted to stop you from pulling away, from severing this connection. And somewhere in his panic, his body purged all the words his mind had been shoving down for so long. “Fuck, sweetheart, I love you. I've loved you my entire life and I will for the rest of it. I'll be anything you want me to be, shit, just don't shut me out.” 

“You love me,” you repeated, like it was ridiculous. 

“I love you,” he said it again anyway, his voice dropping low.

“You-” You stopped yourself, starting to breathe fast through your nose, biting your bottom lip before you continued, “If you're just trying to make me feel better-”

“Do you seriously think I'd say it and risk ruining us just because you're crying?” He asked, wiping away another stray tear from your soft cheek, managing to sound appropriately serious for the first time in his life. 

You swallowed hard, like you were suffocating on the truth now that it was out there. Fingers balled up by your side, fists shaking as you fought the reality Satoru had dropped on you. 

“I don't expect you to tell me that you love me too, just, fuck, just don't walk away from me, okay-” 

And before he could finish begging, you were grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him down, his mouth still open when yours connected with it. 

You kissed him, soft, unsure, like you weren't certain or confident that this was the right decision. But you didn't stop even if part of you thought you'd regret it later. 

His own hands failed him, his brain freezing the second if processed the fact you were actually kissing him, stuck completely still as you soft lips lightly started to suck on his bottom one, his breath stolen and his heart straining to accept how fucking sweet this felt. 

But then your fingers went loose, started to let go of his shirt, and he snapped out of it. Tethering his hands in your hair, deepening the kiss before you could pull away and he'd have to hear that you changed your mind. That he lost his only chance. 

Satoru tried to show you with his lips. 

Tongue dancing across your bottom lip for entry, dragging over the ridges of your teeth, exploring your mouth and memorizing how it felt. Saved it in case he'd never be able to savor the experience again. 

And when a cute little moan slipped out as his chest pressed against yours, as your bodies connected, your baby bump pressed against his stomach and your free hand draped over his shoulder, he knew his boner was back. 

“Mmph, Sato-” you murmured when you finally pulled away for air. He was desperately trying to suck in the quickest breath he could just to kiss you again.

The most he managed was a few quick pecks pressed to the corner of your mouth before your palm pressed flat against his chest. 

“We should talk about it,” you reasonably said, despite how inclined he was to throw reason out the window and carry you back to your bed. 

“Do you want me?” He asked, sucking in a short breath, leaning down so his nose was nuzzling against yours. 

“I do,” you answered, your voice strained and tight as you reluctantly looked up at him, studying the shape of his lips. And maybe it was because he’d spent an entire life wrapped around your finger, building and molding himself to be the sort of man you wanted, that you needed, he knew what thoughts were swirling around in your head before you said any of them. “I’m just scared.”

Hearing it out loud still scared the shit out of him though. 

Knowing how close he was to having you – and how easy it would be to fuck it all up. 

“What can I do to show you just how serious I am?” He murmured, leaning in, lightly grazing his lips against your mouth again. 

You closed your eyes, held onto his shirt and let yourself melt into his chest. 

This kiss didn't last long though, not when the timer on the microwave suddenly blared out. 

“I, um, should check on that,” you muttered, and it was incredibly hard to let you go. To watch you slip from his hold again and walk back into your kitchen, some intangible thread tugging him towards you, unable to stay more than a few steps away from you while you opened the oven and sighed before you added a few more minutes on the timer. 

But you didn’t come back, didn’t speak up immediately. 

You were staring at your distorted reflection in the microwave, like you were silently attempting to convince yourself of something. 

Maybe to turn him down. 

Say that you were both always going to be better off as friends.

“Tell me what to do,” Satoru begged. 

“I don’t know,” you blanched. 

“Anything,” he started. “I swear, I’ll-”

“Shouldn't we take this slow?” You hesitantly asked before he could offer to put up a billboard professing his love or get down on his knees to propose, clinging onto the counter tight enough he could see the clear outline of the bones and tendons in your knuckles. 

“You're having my baby,” he pointed out, and you just pouted at him. 

“I know,” you muttered, mulling over how you wanted to word your concern. “But what if you're only doing this because of that?”

“Sweetheart,” Satoru started, a fresh pang of panic shooting straight through his chest. “I would want you whether or not the baby was mine or someone else's. I've loved you for so fucking long-”

“It's hard for me to accept that,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don't understand why you would pick me. You could have-”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted. You occupy all my thoughts,” he breathed, his throat constricting as he did his best to confess. “Your glare. Your laugh. The way you defend me even when I'm a dick. How you indulge me even when I don't deserve it. Every morning, every night, every stupid meeting I get stuck in and when I'm in the shower. I've spent my whole life waiting for you to see me standing here and hoping for you.”

Another big tear welled up in your pretty eyes, one you quickly blinked away as your stare shined up at him. 

“Can you wait a little longer?” You asked, as if he wouldn't wait another ten, twenty, thirty fucking years holding onto this. 

“Of course,” he whispered. 

As long as you needed. 

He’d just hope it was a sooner rather than later thing. 

You wiped your cheeks, recollecting yourself before checking the oven again, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you put some mitts on and opened it to pull out the baking tray before reaching up to shut off the timer.

Satoru ended up where he always did. 

Stretched out in the corner of your couch, arm thrown around the back and pretending to pay attention to what was on TV instead of watching you in the corner of his vision. But this time, you snuggled up a little closer after you sat a plate down in front of him.

Curled up enough that your thighs were firmly pressing against each other, and slowly, his hand drifted down to cup your stomach. Just under the skin, feeling the faint flutter of his daughter kicking, or readjusting in there. Growing to hopefully be more like you than him, even if she would get stuck with half his DNA. 

“You’re warm,” you softly said, as if that was your excuse to melt into him more.

“Will you still let me spend the night?” He pouted, lips parting only for you to push a warm treat against them to shut him up. 

“On the couch?” You asked, watching him chew, chocolate probably smeared across his mouth before you asked something he only ever dreamed about. “Or in bed?” 

ᘏ⑅ᘏ

Satoru never stopped staying the night. 

And despite the fact he’d technically gotten you pregnant, you still had yet to have sex with him. But instead of him walking in hungry for your cooking, he was starving for you. Thighs hooked over his shoulders while he dragged his tongue up across your pussy, greedily lapping you up like it was his new favorite meal. 

You liked the way he kissed you when you woke up, his strong arms slung around your body, his soft mouth dotting your face like it was his favorite thing in the world. You loved the way he looked at you when he left for work, the warmth that seemed to radiate and wrap around you when he leaned down to caress your cheek and tell you that he’d call you at lunch. 

Somewhere along the way though, or more precisely around week thirty-eight, you started spending the night at his place instead, getting stretched out on his long fingers in his silk sheets instead of your cotton ones. 

You spent almost an hour chewing him out for the nursery he’d already set up there, dismissing his excuses because you both were well aware of the reasons why. 

He didn’t want to just be the donor. 

He wanted to be your baby’s dad. 

And when it came time to actually have your daughter, when your water broke a couple days past your due date and he rushed you to the hospital, you were the one to tell the nurses that was exactly what he was instead of playing pretend and ignoring what was right in front of your face. 

Letting him wipe the sweat from your brow and hold the cup of water to your lips, nearly breaking his hand by holding it so hard when it came time to push, hours of labor culminating in a little baby with your favorite set of blue eyes. 

She had your hair though, and he tried to say your smile too, peeling off his shirt right there in the room and ready to do skin-to-skin with her the second you said he could. 

If you hadn’t figured out you were completely and totally fucking in love with him, you knew the second you saw him cradling her to his chest, the gleam in his stare and the reverence in his trembling fingers brushing across her chubby cheeks. 

He had looked up at you with that lopsided smile, pride and adoration present in every line etched in his face. 

“I feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” he grinned.

And just a couple months of being with him had made you see how lucky you’d always been to have him. 

To have her. 

Even though you were pretty sure she inherited her dad’s personality. 

Specifically the loud and clingy parts. 

Always needing one of you to be carrying her, crying when you tried to leave her in the crib, refusing to be bottlefed half-the-time even when you were just feeding her what you pumped. Her crystalline stare welling up with fat tears if you dared to put her down on a soft mat for tummy time, lazily hitting her tiny feet against the ground instead of trying to roll or crawl.

All that baby proofing Satoru had spent hours on pretty much useless so far when she'd barely been outside of your arms or the baby carrier he proudly walked around with her in. He even started working from home once his paternity leave ran out, taking meetings with her still in the carrier, chatting with people on the phone or on video calls, something about the sound of his voice and the way he bounced her, always seeming to lull her to sleep. 

You had unofficially moved in with him, although you let him handle all the packing and unloading, rooms conveniently already set up like he'd always been holding that space for you, closet half-vacant until all your clothes were hung up by his. 

Boyfriend, best friend, husband, no title really needed to tag onto whatever it was the two of you shared. 

It was bigger than that. 

You were his now. 

And you didn’t want to deny it anymore. 

Besides, you'd done some laundry a couple days ago and found a ring box underneath his boxers in the sock drawer, so you supposed it would have a label soon anyway. 

If you were going to spend the rest of your life loving someone, it was always going to be him. 

You were an idiot for not seeing it sooner. 

But he never made you feel like one. 

He kissed you good night like it was the most natural thing in the world, half-draped across your body and skimming his fingers over your face before he curled up next to you in the dim bedroom, blankets tangled around your bodies. 

Falling asleep came fast when it was in his arms, but you'd begun to have one, or, uh, two problems when you woke up at four in the morning with a massive ache in your chest. 

In his quest to be the best father (and future husband), he'd taken over night feedings to make sure you slept, but despite his sweetness, your body wasn't on the same page. Or rather, schedule. 

Missing her night feedings had left you engorged. 

Tits swollen and milk stuck in the ducts, the usually soft flesh practically hard under the stretched skin, painful when you sat up and realized you had started to soak through your bra and shirt. You tried to peel both off of you, wincing at the wetness as your finger fumbled for the pump you left by the nightstand in the dark only to knock it off instead. 

“Sweetheart?” Satoru groggily spoke up, a big hand reaching out, half-patting your stomach in his sleepy state.

But then he was already shutting his eyes again, yawning and humming as he drifted back to sleep, your lips pressing together in a frustrated line as you swung your legs off the bed and bent over to grab the pump. 

Although, it wasn’t really much use when your ducts were too fucking clogged for anything other than a painfully slow drip to come out, the ache just getting worse as you begrudgingly switched on the lamp by your bed and bathed the room in warm yellow light as you put the pump back. 

“Satoru,” you whined, rolling over in bed and lightly shaking the pretty man drooling on the pillow next to you. He almost immediately stirred for real this time, sitting up and blinking before wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth, grunting as he got up, the low sound only making your thighs tense and press together. 

“Mm, baby?” He yawned as he stretched, running his fingers through his hair as his baby-food-stained sweatshirt rode up to show a sliver of his toned abs. 

“When did you feed her?” You half-whispered as his tired eyes shifted to his phone on the other side of him, briefly turning it on with a sigh. 

“Like, an hour ago?” He answered, blinking a couple times as his eyes returned to you – and then practically bulged out of his head at the realization your boobs were out. 

Mouth falling open in a pretty ‘o’, drool probably pooling inside it as he stared at how heavy they were hanging, tongue uselessly trying to form a coherent follow-up and some strangled sound escaping instead. 

“I need you,” you admitted just as another droplet of milk leaked out, starting to roll down your breast – but before it could make it more than an inch, Satoru was there, wrapping his lips around your areola and starting to suck before you could even get another sentence out. 

He pulled you closer, an arm slipping around your lower back, pulling you in as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, his other hand already reaching up to squeeze your other tit, groaning at how it felt under his palm. 

You gasped, a surprising surge of electricity racing down your spine as heat you hadn’t expected bubbled up to simmer in your core. Technically, you’d been cleared for sex, like, six weeks ago, but you’d been a little anxious about him seeing your postpartum body. 

Not sure if his feelings would be swayed after you carried his baby, if the stretchmarks or soft plush of your stomach would put him off. 

But the ravenous gleam in his eyes, the frenzied way his fingers kept fumbling to make sure you couldn’t slip away, you didn’t think anyone had ever wanted you as badly as he did right now. 

And before you could fully process it, your back was hitting the bed, pinned between his heavy body and his firm mattress, the sheets crinkling underneath you as he greedily drank. 

He looked delirious. 

Okay, probably a little bit sleep deprived from being in night feeding duty half the time, but he was drunk on you, letting out a lewd moan as he sucked hard on the hardened bud, desperately kneading into the other one with those thick fingers of his while something hard and huge dug into your thigh. 

Fuck.  

Why the hell was he that big? 

The size of him was on your mind as he switched breasts, eagerly slurping as he squeezed, trying to break up the clog with his thick fingers, pressing in and working into the skin, forcing more milk out as he tried to drain you. 

“Shit, angel,” he moaned, barely pulling away to glance up at you, the blue in his eyes swallowed up by his pupils as milk dribbled down the corner of his mouth. “You’re so sweet.” 

“S-Satoru,” you stammered, relief washing over you as he went back to drinking and managed to clear out at least one of the ducts, eyelashes fluttering as his tongue toyed with your still overly sensitive nipple. Your fingers were shaking as you tangled them in his hair, trying to guide him back to the other one, hyperaware of how sticky your skin was, some of the milk definitely leaking down onto the bed and getting on his shirt as he continued without a pause. 

“S’not fair,” he whined, fingers digging in again as he practically rutted his cock against your thigh. Hips rolling down to grind against you, his muscled thighs flexing with every rock of them. “How come she gets to drink this all the time and I don’t?”

“You can’t be serious,” you gasped, tugging at his roots to pry him back just to find that fucked-out look on his face, everything relaxed as he jutted out his bottom lips like he was willing to beg for more if he had to. 

“This is my new favorite drink,” he insisted, and before you could sputter out another protest, he was latched on again, relieving your other breast with that pretty mouth of his, massaging it until you were both moaning, your head falling back against the pillow as you gave in.

Gave it all up for him. 

Finding yourself arching your own back up off the bed, squirming and shuddering as he went to work on it, teeth skimming and scraping until your nipples were sore, swallowing your milk until your breasts almost felt empty – but you knew they’d fill back up sooner or later. Sooner, if he kept sucking on them like that as if he could telepathically communicate to them to make more. 

And even when they were nearly drained, he was running his tongue over your chest, cleaning you up like he was a goddamn cat. Taste buds dragging over your skin, running his fingered over your peaked nipples now, a surprised squeak pulled from you that made you both pause for a second, his blue eyes wide when they immediately locked onto your face.

Neither of you said anything. 

But his cock twitched, and a funny pulse shot down to your clit, and your mouth was opening to ask him something you’d been craving more than you could confess. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You breathed, awkward, tense. 

Terrified he’d say no, no matter how irrational it was. 

But Satoru just smiled, climbing completely on top of you and caging you back in to caress your cheek, “God, you have no idea just how long I’ve been waiting for-” 

Your mouth crashed against his before he could even finish his sentence, your own impatience catching you by surprise, lips fitting so nicely in between his, and you wondered why it had taken you so long to take what was always yours. 

You could taste yourself on him, the faintly sweet milk on his breath, although it was a little weird mixed with the leftover mint from him brushing his teeth. He didn’t seem to mind though, eagerly shoving his tongue in your mouth, the now-damp fabric of his shirt pressed against your chest. 

One of you would definitely need to throw a load into the washing machine after this, strip the sheets down and change them after the mess you were making. 

But you couldn’t help but slip your hand down, sneaking underneath the band of his sweatpants and inside his boxers to feel his swollen tip, collecting the thick pre-cum already there and sliding it down his dick. 

Veins pulsing against your palm, your fingers delicately wrapping around his girth and starting to stroke as he made some guttural groan that made your stomach feel funny. Pure want searing through you, desire you weren’t used to handling or holding back now dealt to you in spades. 

Maybe it was because some small voice was trying to suggest that you were about to have sex with Satoru, a sliver of you thrilled at the idea of him needing you too. 

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, and it was probably the prettiest sound you ever heard. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that.” 

“You’re not even in me,” you teased him. He growled at that, and before you could even giggle, he was pulling your hand back out of his pants, firm fingers gripping your wrist and pinning it above your head before you could make him snap. 

And then his other hand was suddenly helping spread your thighs further apart, easily able to move the thin fabric of your cotton shorts and lacy panties aside so he could shove two fingers inside your pussy to see how soaked you were. 

“Baby,” he immediately hummed the second his fingers swirled inside, one corner of his mouth curling up almost condescendingly while you huffed back at him. “I wasn’t even in you.” 

Dick. 

But it was hard to be hurt by him mocking you back when he was sliding his actual dick inside you barely thirty seconds later, the rest of your clothes and his quickly discarded so he could do what you'd both been dreaming about, his eyes scrunching shut as he slowly took it inch by inch. Savoring the stretch, the way his hands trembled as he touched you, his breathing heavy and uneven as he felt your walls squeeze around him. You might’ve complained at how long it was taking if you weren’t also having a hard time holding yourself together. 

Studying all those details of his face you’d fallen for, the shape his soft lips made when his features were all twisted up in pleasure, how his long lashes fluttered as he whispered your name like a prayer. 

Sure, you had sex before. Weren’t exactly a virgin by any means. 

But nothing was like this. 

No one was like him. 

Satoru was treating you like some alter he was born to worship at. Every movement deliberate, sucking in a sharp breath as he pushed through, filling you up until his cock was nestled against your womb, the pressure mind-melting as he tried to focus on your own body reacting to him. 

“I-is it too much?” He asked, like he wasn’t straining, his voice thin and airy. “Tell me if anything hurts.” 

Still concerned for you, still worried he might wound you. 

You nodded, heart thrumming wildly as his cock throbbed and all your sore muscles tensed around him. Hesitantly opening your mouth to reassure him, “I’m good. This is good.” 

Fantastic, actually, but his ego didn’t need that much of a boost. 

Satoru still lit up like you’d told him it was the best you ever had. 

“Thank fucking god,” he murmured, his head falling down so he could nuzzle his nose against your neck. Peppering your throat with kisses as he started thrusting, almost delicate at first, but quickly picking up the pace once he was confident he wouldn’t completely break you with his cock. 

Driving himself in faster, harder, both hands now holding up your hips, angle himself deep enough you could feel himself re-molding you to him. You were out-of-practice, and you could tell he was too, but his sloppiness was made up for with how eager he was, how earnestly his mouth and his fingers and his cock worked to make you feel good. 

“I love you,” he babbled, breathing hard and heavy into your collarbone, your breasts still leaking a little bit of milk onto his chest that he didn’t seem to notice. “I, oh fuck, I love you so much.” 

You were nodding, tracing your fingers over his broad back, his defined shoulder blades, holding onto him as your walls tried to squeeze and clamp down on him. The sex felt different, all your nerves suddenly more sensitive, everything burning and starving for more. 

“I-I love you too,” you gasped, an invisible weight lifted off your chest hearing the words leave your mouth. 

He made a noise that was probably loud enough to wake anyone else in the building, both of you freezing as your heads snapped back towards the door to see if it woke up your daughter down the hall. 

But then his thumb darted to your clit, rushing to make rough circles, his chest heaving with fast breaths as he tried to make sure this wouldn’t end without him making you cum. 

“My pretty girl, fuck,” he purred, sucking a spot he’d already nipped at above your tendon, the jolt it sent through you dragging you embarrassingly close to climax when it was combined with the patterns he was painting over your needy bud. The friction was intense, feeding something deep in your chest you hadn't realized was hollow before. 

Comforted by him coaxing you, crumbling bit by bit into his hand as his cock continued pumping inside you. 

“Always been your girl,” you half-whispered back, toes curling hard as your body tensed up again, lips staying parted as he pulled you right to the precipice. 

“Mine forever then?” Satoru asked, sounding ruined. 

“Forever,” you promised without really thinking, breath itching in your throat as his cock abruptly stalled, still buried deep. 

You were pretty sure he came first, but before you could open your eyes or get another word out, his thumb twitched and pressed down mid-motion and you were seeing stars right as he groaned and snapped his hips down. Too occupied with the pleasure rolling through your almost limp limbs, your nails scratching down his back as warm spurts of cum started coating your walls, leaking down your legs. 

“Shit, fuck, please tell me you came,” he hissed, his own eyes shut, sweaty strands of hair hanging down and sticking to his forehead as you stared at his glossy lips. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, blinking as he finally peeked his eyes open and took in the full sight of you. Breasts still sticky and swollen, his cum dripping down your thighs, bite marks probably staining your throat. 

“Will you marry me?” He bluntly asked, and you could only roll your eyes and laugh at him. 

“Ask me again later,” you muttered, sighing at the state of yourself and wondering if a late night shower would wake a sleeping baby. 

You guessed it didn't matter when her soft cry cut through the brief silence, both of you exhaling at the same time. 

“I'll get dressed and go get her,” Satoru preemptively offered, climbing off of you with a small yawn. You watched him pad barefoot over to the dresser, biting your lips as he pulled fresh boxers back on and rummaged through the other drawers for pajamas. 

“Um, Satoru?” You hesitantly spoke up as a thought nagged at you. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“I'm not on birth control.”

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated <3

"You okay there?" He spoke surprisingly warm, light, like he was talking to a friend as he hopped off. He was wearing goggles, but you could make out the pretty pink shape of his lips at least, the laughter lines by them.

"Uh, yeah, just think I sprained my ankle or something," you swallowed hard as he started towards you, staying in place as you reached up to wipe some snow from where it landed on the tip of your nose.

"Were you hiking?" He asked, gesturing to the disappearing trail behind you. You couldn't stop staring at him, how casually he sauntered closer, long legs striding over like he'd never been scared of anything. "Or are you like, some femme fatale luring unsuspecting victims in with a whole fake injury act?"

Was he trying to make a bad joke?

Break the ice by teasing you?

"Just hiking," you tried to crack a smile too, clearing your throat as you pulled out your broken satellite messenger. "I would've called for someone else but it got fucked up when I fell."

"Guess it's a good thing I found you then, huh?" He hummed, snatching the device from your hand before you could stop him. "My friends and I are celebrating for a few days in my family's cabin. It's pretty close. We don't have one of these, but Shoko's a doctor, so she could check out your ankle."

You blinked, your heart stuttering at the offer before you realized you were already nodding yes.

Sure, he was a stranger, but you technically were too from his shoes. And he'd still taken a chance to come help you out.

"That would be great, actually," you admitted, hope swelling as you tried to let go of the lingering dread still curling in the pit of your stomach.

"Were you sleeping in a tent out here?" He asked, maybe just noticing the heavy backpack weighing your shoulders down.

"Yeah?" You answered, reaching up to adjust the straps.

"There's enough bedrooms for you to crash at my place if you want. One of us could give you a ride down in a couple days if we don't have any cell reception. Think the weather's jus' gonna get worse," he easily offered, and you despised how easily you came to a decision you knew you should think about harder.

"I mean, if it's not a problem-"

"It won't be," he assured you, an annoyingly charming smile curling up on his lips.

"Thanks, um-"

"It's Gojo," he chirped, finally pulling up his snow goggles to reveal a pair of brilliantly blue eyes before sticking out his hand. You hadn't expected him to be that hot either. Long lashes fluttering as he looked at you like playing the role as your savior was the most exciting thing he'd done in months. "You can just call me Satoru though."

You reluctantly reached out to shake it, gloved fingers still trembling as he laced his fingers with yours and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss you couldn't feel.

"Let's get you warmed up, okay?"

He filled you in on his friends on the way there. Babbled about how his best friend tried to convince him to pay for a rental at the beach instead, how some blonde named Yuki only ever showed up for the alcohol, how his former underclassman turned workaholic was running late and he wasn't sure if he would even show up. Talked about what board games he brought and how they were going to sneak into the ski lodge to visit the slopes tomorrow.

A constant stream of chatter you could hardly hear despite him driving much slower than before, your cheek pressed against his back as the wind whipped at your face, an arm reluctantly wrapped around his waist to hold on until you arrived at his cabin.

Except, it was much closer to a fucking resort.

At least two stories, probably more, the dark wood glossy and big windows that poured light out onto the snow. Puffs of smoke were floating up to the sky, a fire place definitely lit inside despite the sound of generators running.

"It's been in my family for like, forever," he grinned as he pulled underneath a thick wooden overhang of a porch, next to where a practically ancient truck was parked before he shut off the snow-mobile and pocketed the key. "We usually come up here every year."

"It's, um, really nice," you replied, accepting his hand when he helped you off, wincing as you accidentally put too much pressure on your ankle.

He threw your arm over his shoulder so he could slip his own around your side, helping support your weight and ignoring the stuff left in the sled as he led you towards the front door, dramatically throwing it open.

It opened to some rustic foyer, the warmth immediately hitting you, feet sinking into a thick rug almost immediately as your eyes tried to find some single detail to focus on. The antlers on the walls? The yellow glow of the light bulbs lining the walls?

There were a few couches ahead, but you hadn't gotten a chance to see who was in them before the wooden floorboards creaked and someone spoke up.

"Took you long enough, Sato-"

"Guess what I found," your hero proudly proclaimed, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you like you were some stray cat he picked up off the street.

"Do you know her?" The same guy who greeted him asked, your head snapping in that direction only to discover an almost achingly attractive man, all sculpted features and sharp lines, dark hair half thrown up, equally dark eyes squinting at you from across the room as he assessed the state you were both in.

"Leave it to Gojo to pick up a woman in the woods," someone else snickered as she sat up on the couch. Yuki, you assumed, judging by the long strands of honey she tossed over her shoulder as she nursed a red solo cup.

"Come on, Suguru, she was hiking and got hurt," Gojo dramatically gasped, pushing out his bottom lip. "I just sorta stumbled across her and offered to help."

"Help?" Suguru dryly echoed.

"Where's Shoko?" Gojo changed the subject, letting go of you to help get your backpack off your shoulder and drop it on the floor with a heavy thump.

"Taking a bath, I think," his best friend answered, obviously unamused, his stare darting between both of you slowly.

"You should take off some layers then," Gojo nudged you with his elbow as he hummed. "Get comfortable."

"Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

You'd have to be an idiot to miss the tension in the air, not sure what to do as Gojo just rolled his eyes and chuckled before throwing you an almost conspiratorial look, like he was asking if you could believe how his friend was acting.

"Fine, whatever," he groaned, following him anyway before he looked back at you one more time. "Bathroom's second door on the left by the way. You can take a shower if you want. Yell if you need me."

You were sorta burning up now that you were inside.

So you begrudgingly dragged your bag down, pretending not to feel totally out-of-place as he bickered with his best friend about bringing you back here. You rummaged through the clothes you brought, hesitantly deciding to take him up on the shower offer to scrub the past few days off your skin before you got changed.

Your ankle was definitely swollen, but you managed to make it work, leaning against the wall for most of it, and rubbing yourself dry with the thick towel hanging on the wall before you got dressed in one of your lighter layers.

You were about to walk back out, hand hovering over the knob before you made out a couple hushed voices outside.

"If you're planning to do something stupid this year, I don't want any fuckin' part of it."

"Do you really think so low of me?" Gojo huffed back, and before you could keep eavesdropping, your shoulder pressed too hard against the door and the wood betrayed you by giving out a low whine from your weight. They both stopped for a few seconds, your eyes scrunching shut as you heard new footsteps stop on the other side. "You still alive in there?"

"Yeah, almost done," you called back out, throwing a panicked look back at your flushed expression in the steamed-up mirror before sighing.

Once you opened the door though, Gojo was already stepping in to snag your bag where you left it, passing it off to his gorgeous friend and asking him to go put it in a spare room before he was leading you across the living area and down a different hall that branched into a full kitchen, flicking on the light.

"Don't worry about him," he reassured you. "He's had a stressful month."

"I mean, I get it," you shrugged. "It's not like you guys know me."

Anyone would be uncomfortable sleeping under the roof with someone they didn't know.

"He'll chill out," he promised.

"Thanks again for uh, this," you murmured, unsure how to show him how grateful you were - and sort of torn on how grateful you should be when you still weren't completely clear in what to make of him.

"Don't need to thank me," he grinned, glancing over his shoulder as he rummaged through the cabinets for cups as he tilted his head towards a dark bottle of wine on the counter. "But you can drink with me?"

a/n: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always <3 you decide what reader does next :3 choose wisely bc each action have consequences

He tried to leave you the house in the divorce, offered you a frankly ridiculous amount of alimony when it didn't work, making bids like it would get you to talk to him, letters he had delivered through his lawyer to yours that you never read.

But you were sick of being tied to him.

Not that anyone would believe it when you were being stretched past the brim by him now, the filthy fucking smacks of his balls against your skin and the thumps of the headboard hitting the wall drowning out the sorrow you were still stewing in.

The sex was starving and sloppy, all that big tough talk and bravado from the Sukuna you used to know replaced with drunk, sappy bullshit you didn't believe.

"I fuckin' love you, baby," he groaned, grinding his molars before he bit down on the nape of your neck, holding you there while you went stiff at the words. Pointedly aware it would probably be the last time you'd hear them. Making another promise to yourself that you wouldn't be in this position again. "I missed you so goddamn much."

The silence was palpable.

Painfully present underneath the rough sound of his hips slamming into your ass, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything back.

It would be a lie to say you loved him back.

You didn't remember the day you stopped.

Your affection died a slow death. Pieces of your heart chipped away with each missed date, each day that passed where your messages were missed, every damn time he forgot to kiss you before he went to work. Distance just sort of did that.

And Sukuna was simply a hard man to put up with even when he wasn't around. You weren't exactly easy either, but you knew when to call it at least, when to stop clinging to something that obviously wasn't working.

"Why the fuck did you leave me?" He grunted, rutting in faster, as if this was the time to talk about the dissolution of your relationship. You guessed maybe he was thinking about it too. Replaying the good and the bad trying to find a way to deal with how things were.

"Don't act like you don't know," you hissed back, biting your lip hard as you felt his teeth skimming back over your throat, his greedy hands gripping your hip harder as he tried to remind you what every ridge of his cock felt like.

"I just fuckin' came home, and you were gone."

You wished you could believe he was half as gutted as he sounded.

He probably just missed having his laundry done and food ready for him even if it was cold by the time he ate it. You wouldn't be surprised if it had taken him a week or two to even piece together that you weren't there.

"Surprised you noticed," you sarcastically mumbled, and he let out a low ha that ate at you more than it should. Clawed its way under your skin as you ignored the hurt in it.

"God, you're so fuckin'-" He started, groaning as he tried to shift his fingers down to your clit, rubbing it with no real rhythm. You flinched at his touch, sucking on the inside of your cheek.

"What?" You dared him to finish.

"Frustrating," he spat.

His fingers twitched over the sensitive bud, your knees digging deeper into the mattress and threatening to buckle as he buried himself even deeper into your pussy, the one that used to belong to him before everything ended up so screwed.

He finished in his own way, warm ropes of cum filling you up no matter how frustrating he thought you were. Still playing with your clit, massaging it in harder, faster, and you just let out a fake moan, content to play along to fulfill what he wanted once more.

For old times' sake.

You didn't really blame him. Not totally.

A lifetime ago, you'd taken each other's virginity in the backseat of his car, listening to him grunt and grumble while he clumsily tried to make his dick fit inside you. Neither of you had any other partners. Slept around to see what you liked, what you wanted. Just did what you could to make what you already had work.

And now you both knew that it wasn't that easy.

So what if he didn't make you cum?

Sukuna pulled out, his cum still leaking out, his tip smearing what dripped against your ass as you tried to hide your disappointment.

"Was there someone else?" He asked, his thumb running over the thick stuff. "Some asshole try to steal you from-"

"No," you crudely cut him off, your thighs aching and muscles tensing as his weight shifted off the bed.

"I don't fucking understand," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as you rolled off the other side.

You felt out-of-place. Not totally understanding yourself either as you shuffled on your feet. He was already starting towards the open door of the attached bathroom.

Maybe finally starting to see this stalemate for what it was.

"I was gonna clean you up," he gruffly muttered, and you weakly shrugged your shoulders, brushing past him to turn on his shower.

You didn't answer him when you stepped inside it.

Just let the warm water wash away his cum, scrubbing your skin like you could remove any sign of him being there.

He got in behind you, his hands trying to sneak back onto your waist, to drift across your stomach and use the bar of soap as an excuse to touch you more, but he still seemed to miss the obvious.

You couldn't go back.

Even if you allowed yourself to sleep next to him in a new bed, curled up on the blanket as far from him as you could get, ignoring his whispered attempts at reconciliation in your ear as he tried to tuck you back against your chest, dozing off to the sound of him asking for a reason you were sick of spelling out.

This was the most attention you'd get from him.

He was too selfish to see that you couldn't let your world revolve around him again. Too conceited to accept that you didn't view your relationship the same way anymore. Didn't need him how he needed you.

And when the morning came, it was you who was sneaking out of his bed, throwing on your clothes and glancing back over your shoulder at him.

You hated how nostalgic you felt watching him snoozing, the sun on his tanned skin, tattoos starting to fade with time as he slept with his forearm half covering his face. Just the shape of his mouth, the tip of his nose peeking out beneath it. His wedding band glinting gold, still marking him as yours when you were trying to snip every tie.

Your own ring was sitting in the bottom of your jewelry box, hidden underneath old necklaces and bracelets, somewhere you didn't have to see it.

Shutting the door softly behind you when you left, purse slung over your shoulder as you scrambled to return back to your own apartment.

He tried to text you. Almost every day, actually, all sent from random numbers like he finally fucking figured out for sure that you blocked him. Funny, wasn't it, that he probably realized that faster than you moving out of your old place?

But leaving him in the past was harder when you missed two periods in a row and had to face the two fucking lines on the four different pregnancy tests you'd taken.

You took the fucking plan B just for it to fail at the worst possible time.

It wasn't like you were stupid enough to think a baby would have ever saved your marriage. But you sincerely doubted it would resurrect something already dead.

Pregnant.

Like, a real fucking fetus growing inside you, one that was half a man you had sworn you wouldn't see again.

What the fuck were you supposed to do?

You poked the croissant in front of you, glaring at the chocolate drizzle like it was responsible for the fact you wouldn't be able to stomach it without getting sick rather than Sukuna's.

Calling in reinforcements in the form of your friends who were already sick of hearing about your ex-husband, sitting in the corner of a coffee shop while you mourned the overpriced, over-caffeinated beverage you were craving.

"What's your problem?" Shoko snorted, rubbing the exhausted rings from her eyes before she brought her coffee to her lips.

"I'm pregnant," you bitterly mumbled, just for her to almost spit it out. Might as well finish ripping off the bandage. "And it's Sukuna's."

Shoko's brown eyes darkened, hand reaching out for the pack of cigarettes on the table before she hesitated and pinched the bridge of her nose instead.

"How far along?" She frowned, pressing for another detail you were embarrassed to confess to. You shrugged your shoulders, like you hadn't done the mental math a hundred times by now. Two months since that night you made the grave mistake of sleeping with him? Give or take a week? "Have you told him?"

"Of course not," you huffed.

Sukuna was insufferable even when he didn't have a reason to be.

If he knew-

"Tell who what?" A warm voice chimed in, a hand grazing over your forearm before Suguru claimed the seat next to yours.

Shoko snorted, and he shot her a half-annoyed glare, dragging his chair closer as the feet of it scraped on the linoleum.

You glanced up at him, already peeling the skin off your cracked lips as you tried to work out how to tell your best friend that the man he told you was bad fucking news far before you ever married him had knocked you up.

But Shoko beat you to it.

"Guess who got her pregnant?"

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