☆♪

nerdy big brother satoru is invisible to everyone but his little sister who loves him just a bit too much.

satoru’s kind of smelly, like sweat and must, because he only showers once a month since ‘showering once a day is a scam created by shampoo companies.’ his nose is always runny, and he simply wipes it on his shirt whenever it gets annoying, adding to the collection of food and snot stains on his sleeve. his glasses are pushed up as high as they can go on his face, hiding his features, he never did get his acne under control, and he’s blunt and borderline rude without even realizing it. his hair is a mess, but not in the charming, careless way. he pairs socks with crocs that are a horrendous vomit color because, apparently, ‘comfort’ equals efficiency. when he’s not writing some paper for his physics class, he spends his free time glued to some dumb video game with his online friends that are just as nasty and weird as he is. the only reason his clothes get washed is because he lives at home and his mother does it, picking up his dirty clothes off of the floor for him. the only time satoru interacts with girls is when they make dating him an insult to eachother.

but then there’s you. his little sister who idolizes him, who hangs out in his room because you seem to love his ‘scent.’ you watch him for hours, engrossed in some obscure game or reading up on a random topic with an intensity that makes everything else fade into the background.

sometimes, when you’re both watching a show together that has incestuous themes (one he deliberately chose) — he’ll turn his head to you, completely serious and looking you dead in the eye: “would you still love me if i was your brother?” the question startles you and you don’t exactly know how to respond to it. it’s strange, but satoru can be weird like that — so you just laugh it off awkwardly. though, you can still feel his stare burning into the side of your head the rest of the night.

and another instance, where like usual, he is running his fingers through your hair — braiding a few pieces, untangling some strands, right before he says, “wish you had hair like mine…” and when you ask him to clarify, he just smiles as if discussing the weather. “white — like we’re a real family.”

or when he stares, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over his chest while watching you make food or do the dishes. instead of saying something normal, something romantic like: “you’d make a good wife.” — he chooses: “you’d be a good little sister. bet you’d always listen to what i say.”

and when he sighs, leaning his head onto your shoulder one night and tells you about how much he’s always wanted a sister (a younger one specifically), how you make him feel like he already has one bc he takes care of you and you take care of him in your own different ways — even though you’re both boyfriend and girlfriend. how if he ever had one in the next life, he hoped it’d be a reincarnation of you with the same personality, name, and most importantly — body. bc in his words: “no one else can take my cock like you do.”

denji likes to suck your tits and i don’t even mean it sexually. i mean, of course, sexually, on occasion, but i mean also not sexually at all a lot of the time.

he likes your tits, just in general. resting his head on your chest, putting his hands underneath your shirt and fondling with them. sometimes just having them in his hands is enough. but having them in his mouth is just… something else.

he’s needy, everyone knows that. if he could he would be on top of you all the time, but he can’t. and sometimes he just need closeness. he needs to have you close, so close, he wants to touch your every part. having your attention is like heaven to him. so imagine how pleased he is to just lay his pretty head on your chest and wrap his lips around your nipple and just stay there. his arms circle your waist and he closes his eyes, feeling so fucking good.

“ohmygod, kuna— get your fat ass off of me..”

your voice is weak and strained when your husband flops on top of you, his massive form draping over you and knocking the breath right from your lungs.

“mmn.” he just hums, burying his face in your neck, completely disregarding the fact that it feels like you’re being smushed by a boulder.

and he’s not oblivious to it either, he knows just how big he is. he’s proud of it, in fact. and he knows how much you love it.

well… besides for when he’s crushing you.

his arms are wrapped tight around you, securing you from all angles, while his body completely covers yours. six foot five and 250 pounds of pure muscle trapping you on the bed.

“babe, i’m being serious, get off. you’re killing me here.” you mutter, breathing heavily between words.

“shh. lemme rest.” sukuna replies, not able to care less. and he has the audacity to shush you. really?

“had a shitty day.” he adds lowly.

you exhale softly, defeated, and bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, stroking his hair. “okay. fine. a few more minutes.”

he shakes his head. “an hour.”

“do you want me to pass out?”

pervy best friend!choso who thinks you're his lucky charm and wants you to sit in his lap while he plays video games. while you're perched on his thighs with his arms on either side of you, he kisses your neck and nibbles on your ear as his fingers fiddle with his controller. when he wins a game he'll turn your face towards him and give you a peck on the lips, calling it a 'celebratory kiss'.

pervy bestfriend!choso who insists on coming with you whenever you want to buy lingerie - a second opinion is always useful right? he'll pick out a set in your favourite colour and wait for you outside the dressing room. once you're out, you give him a quick twirl bending down and shaking your ass a little. he'll come up behind you to help you 'adjust your bra strap', but really it's to feel your plush ass against his dick. you know exactly what he's doing and push back against him, grinding softly against his growing erection. when he coughs out a groan, you feign innocence, asking him sweetly if he's okay.

pervy bestfriend!choso who takes advantage of the fact that you become extremely affectionate when you're sleepy. whenever you go over to his place and end up sleeping over, you cuddle him tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck and throwing one of your legs over his own. choso feels his cock strain against the fabric of his boxers as you wiggle against him in an atempt to get comfortable, feeling your tits pressed against his arm and the warmth of your pussy against his thigh.

pervy bestfriend!choso who can't believe his luck when he looks over too see that the strap of your tank top has fallen all the way down and exposed your bare breasts. He stares as your tits rise and fall as you breathe, basically inviting him to suck on them. He leans down to watch your nipples harden and his mouth is on them in seconds. I mean, how could he possibly resist? Choso's eyes are half-lidded as he swirls his tongue around your bud, his spit coating every inch of your nipple.

pervy bestfriend!choso who is too focused on your chest to notice that you've been awake the whole time, watching him groan as he sucks your nipple passionately. Choso only realises you're awake when your hand travels to his hair and you start running your fingers through his thick strands.

pervy bestfriend!choso whose face is flushed in embarassment as he tries to explain why he was latched to your nipple just seconds ago but immediately shuts up when he feels your hand start to caress his bulge.

satoru didn't look like the class genius right now. his glasses were pushed up haphazardly on his head, his white hair a mess, and his eyes, those piercing, crystalline eyes, were narrowed with a cold, focused irritation. he stood over you, his silhouette looming large against the living room light, while you lay sprawled on the couch, completely exposed and trembling.

he didn't waste time with gentleness either. the moment he snatched you into his dorm room, he had grabbed your thighs, hauling your legs back with a sudden, forceful jerk. your knees were shoved up toward your chest, satoru pinning your lower body in a position that left you wide open and utterly vulnerable.

"a seventy," he spat, his voice low. "i have never seen a number that low on a piece of paper in my entire life. do you have any idea how pathetic a seventy is for me?"

"t—toru— i’m—"

"shut up," he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of anger and lust. "you spent the whole night distracting me! every time i tried to focus on the molecular bonds, you were touching me, whining for attention, making sure i couldn't think about anything but how much i wanted to fuck you dumb."

there was nothing rhythmic or sensual about his thrusts. it was a pounding, punishing pace. he hammered into you, his hips colliding with yours with a loud, wet slap that echoed through the room. each thrust was designed to drive the point home, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that made your vision blur.

"i— i'm s-s—" you tried to choke out an apology, but as he lunged forward again, the force of the impact snapped your head back. the words died in your throat, replaced by a high-pitched, broken moan.

"you’re what? you’re sorry?" satoru sneered, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, though he didn't stop the brutal assault of his hips. "sorry doesn't fix my gpa, baby. sorry doesn't erase the fact that i failed to maintain my perfect streak because you couldn't keep your hands off me."

he gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, bruising you as he held you locked in that folded position. he accelerated, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking pussy with a violent friction. god, the sound was graphic; the squelch of lubrication and the heavy thud of his body slamming against yours.

"aww, look at you," he cooed, watching your face contort in a mix of pleasure and overwhelming intensity. "you love this, don't you? you love knowing you ruined my grade, and now you get to take my big dick for it!"

you tried to speak again, your lips trembling, wanting to tell him how much you loved him, how sorry you were, but every time you opened your mouth, he delivered another blow. you voice was reduced to incoherent whimpers and shattered breaths. you were shaking, your muscles twitching under the onslaught of his pace.

"i’m going to make sure you remember this every time you think about distracting me again," satoru groaned, his pace becoming frantic, almost feral. “you're going to take every inch of this, yeah? you're going to feel exactly how pissed off i am."

he let out a low, guttural growl, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more violent. he was bottoming out inside you, stretching you to your limit, driving you deeper into the couch. you could only cling to the fabric of the cushions, your fingers clawing at the material as you were bounced relentlessly.

"tell me," he commanded, his voice straining as he neared his peak. "tell me you're a distraction— fuck!— tell me you're a little brat who deserves to be fucked like this.”

you tried to scream it, to give him what he wanted, but a particularly deep thrust hit a spot that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire spine. your eyes rolled back, your jaw dropping open in a silent scream of ecstasy as your walls clamped tight around. as he slammed into you again, the impact sending a shockwave through your core, you managed to find a sliver of your voice.

"t— toru— please," you whimpered, your head tossing from side to side on the cushion. "slow— slow down— mmmh! please, just a little—“

satoru let out a small scoff, his cock buried deep in your soaking heat. he looked down at you, seeing your flushed face, your blown out pupils, and the way your body was trembling under his weight. a slow, smug grin spread across his lips, and he let out a soft laugh that vibrated in his chest.

"slow down? y’want me to slow down, angel?" he echoed, his voice a raspy, dangerous purr.

he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, and let out a small, needy moan that shifted into a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. the sound was jarring coming from him, a brief lapse in his control that only highlighted how much he was enjoying this.

"you think i’m done with you already?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"i’m just getting started,” he snickered once more upon your disheveled appearance, “a seventy is a disaster, and you're going to feel every single point i lost."

without warning, he gripped your thighs even tighter, hauling your knees even closer to your chest until you were practically folded in half. he didn't slow down, instead, he shifted his angle, driving back into you with a renewed, savage intensity.

the sound of his hips slamming against yours returned with a violent slap, the wet squelch of your pussy gripping his thick dick echoing through the quiet room. he began to hammer into you again, faster than before, his movements relentless.

“satoruuu!—” you yelped, crying out, “you’re so— nnghh!— so big— don’t stop! pleasepleaseplease—”

"beg me to slow down again— i dare you," he whimpered, his voice thick with arousal as he pounded into your cervix.

"i wanna hear you beg while i fuck the apology right out of you."

second post of the day because i just HAD to write for this man 👅👅👅 he is irresistible.

The last thing you wanted to do was get into an argument with your roommate and best friend. Yet you found yourself going back and forth with him & it didn’t look like it was coming to an end any time soon. 

“I don’t understand how I’m not allowed to have boys over but you’re free to bring home girls, it’s totally unfair Satoru!” You yelled, voice turning raspy. 

It’s been hours since this argument began and he was getting sick of it. 

“The difference between us is that I didn’t invite that girl over to fuck, did I?” He shot back, a vein forming at his temple. 

His hand reached up to his face, sliding off his glasses to set them aside on the counter. “I came home with her because we had a project to do and the library was closed. And you know this because I texted you earlier about it.”   

“So? She was totally giving you bedroom eyes!”

“And what if she was? Doesn’t mean I gave in and started humping her like a dog in heat. I’m not that easy, sweets.” 

But you were. 

You were not about to give in because he used your favorite pet name, and you definitely weren’t going to allow him to see the effect it had on you. 

“I don’t know why me bringing a boy over concerns you either.” 

“Watch that tone.” He warned. His eyes have darkened enough to match the late night shadows seeping into the kitchen, rain being muffled by the windows. Your lip trembled, being utterly frustrated. It’s not like you even did anything with the guy, you just wanted to make him jealous – get back at him for inviting that girl over. 

Satoru noticed your pout, sighing through his nose as all previous anger faded. “Baby.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He closed in, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “You love it when I use sweet names on you.” 

You pulled away from his touch, still pissed. “We’re just roommates, that’s why.” That certainly got him to raise a brow, a slight tilt at his head as he took in your words. “Just roommates? Am I not your best friend? Am I not the one that makes you feel good?” 

Your breath hitched, knowing what he was referring to. 

You had come home stressed about some class and it didn’t help that it was ovulation week as well, making you all pent up. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t mind helping you out on the very counter he was leaning against. “What was your goal when you brought him over? To make me jealous? Get your pay back?” 

Well, yes. 

But you were not going to admit that so easily. 

“If I hadn’t made it clear enough, sweets, you’re the only girl I want. Why would I be stupid to put my dick inside someone who isn’t you?” His vulgar words strike again at your inner core, forcing your thighs to clench. 

“Satoru..” Your cheeks heated up. 

“I’m going to ask you again, and you’re going to answer honestly. Are we just roommates?” 

Of course not. Roommates don’t just allow the other to ride them like rabbits in heat the way you were doing right now. Your clothes were discarded on the floor, shaky hands rubbing up and down his abs all while he watched. 

A smirk was lifting at his lips, enjoying the way you struggled to do all of the work. He wanted to touch your tits, give them the little kisses they deserved. But hearing you beg for his touch was far better. 

“Please– I said I was s-sorry..” Your apologies fell upon deaf ears. This was your punishment after all. You could barely register your own pleas as his tip grazed your puffy folds. “You’re going to ride me and I’m not going to help for shit.” 

And he kept his word because he hasn’t done anything more than letting out the occasional grunt. It was genuinely pissing you off. 

“Please,” You tried again, leaving sloppy but sweet kisses on his lips that he didn't reciprocate. Not even when you picked up your pace or slowed it down did he react. 

Nothing was working. 

Not until he saw you begin to sob, hiding your pretty face in his neck did he soften up. “Hey, hey.. It’s okay, sweet girl. I forgive you, you did so good, took your punishment like the good girl you are. Don’t cry, you’re making me feel bad.” His expression softened, large hand rubbing the small of your back as he coo’ed in your ear at your hiccups. 

You sniffled, chasing your nearing orgasm now that he praised you. “Am gonna cum..” You gasped, clawing at his back. Satoru fully wrapped his arms around you, bouncing you harshly on his lap. “Go ahead.” 

White dots filled your sight when you spilled on his dick, legs trembling. He followed soon after, releasing deep in you. “Good job, baby. Don’t you ever think that shit again. I don’t want anyone but you, and it’s time to realize that.” 

the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.

“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”

“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”

“i definitely didn’t.”

“no? must’ve imagined it.”

you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.

“you interrupted me again,” you say.

“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”

another kiss.

“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”

“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.

it’s been weeks of this — weeks of satoru tenderly trying to lift your frail newborn daughter from your arms, his tall frame hunched over her and his touch agonisingly gentle, only for her to burst out into tears. he just can’t comprehend it!

“it isn’t fair,” he mumbles, slumped over on the couch after yet another failed attempt at picking her up. “i mean, she has my eyes! in fact, she has all my genes, yet she won’t let me pick her up!”

his tone is scandalised, a hint of betrayal seeping into it; but beyond the usual dramatics, there’s a subtle sense of vulnerability in it too. it’s barely there, hidden behind the light-heartedness of his voice so that you almost miss it.

that’s the kind of skill that satoru has mastered by now: being able to feign confidence in the form of borderline obnoxious mock-arrogance. or rather, being able to divert any concerns you may have with a kind of ease and fluidity that’s got to be at least a little bit concerning.

but you don’t miss it this time. not with the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stares at the floor, lost in thought. not when he looks so worn down, eroded of his usual playful demeanour, an unfamiliar tiredness written all over his body.

you can see the way his shoulders are lowered a fraction in exhaustion from the situation, and even despite his joking demeanour, you both seem to have noticed the way his voice lacked its usual charm earlier.

“hey, toru..” you murmur, sliding onto the couch next to him. your daughter is still clinging to your shirt, having only just been lulled to sleep by you. she’s finally finished bawling her eyes out at the sight of her own father. “don’t be like that…it’s nothing. she’ll grow out of it.”

“no, you don’t get it sweets! she must know something…” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i mean, whenever she looks at me with those huge blue eyes, it’s like she’s staring right through me. she must know something i don’t!” with that, he drops his head into his hands with a groan.

you’d laugh at the irony of his words if it weren’t for the defeated look on his face. of all things, you’d never expected to hear satoru gojo complaining about the unsettling nature of the piercing-blue eyes that she’d inherited from him. nonetheless, you gently move your free hand to stroke his back, your voice soft as you rub soothing circles.

“hey, no…she’ll come around soon enough.”

“but what if she doesn’t?” he looks up, pouting once more. “what if i’ve done something wrong? maybe i messed up my first impression or something!”

“…toru, don’t be silly, i don’t think newborns care about first impressions.”

he sits up slowly, assessing your words as his eyes fall once more upon the baby in your arms. her snowy eyelashes flutter slightly as she snoozes, tiny hands curled up against her body. one of her chubby cheeks rests against you as she snores, her tiny chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale she takes. tentatively, satoru brings a hand to run over her small leg, fingers running over the soft fabric of the fluffy bear socks on her feet courtesy of his impulse buying.

he snorts sadly at that, remembering the way he had been so excited to spoil her. he’d ran around, desperate to find only the very best for his sweet daughter: bags of baby toys, soft socks, cute baby outfits and pacifiers. he’d spent hours researching the quality of each, scrolling through reviews, diligently ensuring that his daughter would receive only the best — only for her to sob at the mere sight of his face.

it’s a kind of irony satoru can’t bear. because ultimately, in the eyes of the newborn in your arms, he’s no longer satoru gojo. he’s simply…nothing. stripped of being the strongest, stripped of his usual defence mechanism of feigned-confidence, stripped of his ability to win her over with expensive toys and clothes. he’s left vulnerable, stuck with the discomfort of it all. maybe he isn’t cut out for this. maybe he isn’t cut out for fatherhood.

you study his face, frowning at the way his brows are pinched and his features have melted into something much more vulnerable, tired. he looks deep in thought, barely registering the fact that one of his legs is tapping anxiously. he just stays sat there, eyes absentmindedly resting upon your daughter, zoned out.

your heart aches a little. it’s a strange sight, to see your usually-bold husband reduced to this unfamiliar state, hands tensed in his lap like he’s not sure what to do with himself.

so, you decide to take action yourself.

tenderly, you lift your daughter and quietly place her into satoru’s arms, silently willing her not to wake just yet. you’re not quite sure how you or your poor husband will cope if she does — and the idea of having to lull her back to sleep whilst simultaneously looking into satoru’s face of pure disappointment is one you’re not particularly fond of.

the second the baby is in his arms, satoru tenses up, thrown off-guard for a moment at the sudden action. however he then slowly begins to pull her closer to his chest, arms cradling her more securely now. it’s a bit awkward at first, because for once your poor husband hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself to hold her: no half an hour pep talk in the mirror as usual, no rubbing vanilla baby lotion into his hands before attempting to hold her — after all, apparently the scent of vanilla is soothing to young babies. hours of extensive research and a couple of youtube tutorials on how not to make your newborn daughter cry have taught him that much, at least.

much to his surprise, though, despite his total lack of preparation this time around, she seems to warm up to his touch immediately. despite being fast asleep, she nuzzles her tiny cheek against his chest a little, angling her head just a fraction inwards towards his warmth.

sure, maybe they’re just baby steps, if you can even call them that. but for the first time since his sweet daughter was born, satoru has actually been able to hold her without being subjected to sobs and screams. he tries to fight a tiny smile, and your heart flutters at the sight.

he stays stood there in silence, eyes crinkled in fondness as he peers down at the sleeping girl in his arms, cradling her like she’s precious. and after a few minutes of standing like that, a single, tiny tear begins to form in the corner of his eye, not quite falling yet. it stays there for a few seconds, clinging to soft dove-white lashes before the salty water finally rolls down his face, just barely brushing over the edge of his cheek.

with a tiny sniff, gojo quickly manages to recover his composure, letting his typical confident grin return back onto his features and simultaneously trying to pretend that his eyes aren’t currently going blurry with the threat of fresh, brand-new tears.

“ah— i knew it, so you do like me..!” he chokes out a weak laugh as he addresses the sleeping newborn, his voice half-subdued in a poor attempt at being quiet so as not to wake her. he dramatically crooks his head downwards, his ear right up next to your daughter’s face as though trying to ensure he can hear her better before he speaks up again. “…soo, this means that i’m the favourite parent, right??”

the nerve of him!

a/n: filler post sorry if the writing quality is poor i just wanted to post something💔 the idea came to me thanks to a dad sukuna fic i saw so creds to them!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) taglist: @nonchalantfiend @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @hearts2vivi @mariisagb @renrenrenren17 @bowiesprettieststar2 @733164 @palanggaaa @megssleepygirl @rengoatku @hangenism @yujisdreamgirl @nonamedreams @ivankinnieclatter @sugerfilled @silverstar111 @dreamyreadinglover @v4mp1r3b4tzz @dev1lw4arsprada @megantheestallionswife @magicalpeenpoo @qrxswan @silverwfern @luvhza @rozzaa0scentzz1 @azizxxxah @eyayur @strawberrychansora @qrxswan + join!

suguru geto takes care of his sweet girl when she's sick :(

the rain is absolute misery against the bedroom window, that matches exactly how your head feels. your throat is scratchy, your limbs feel like lead, and the fever has left you trapped in that horrible, shivering limbo where you’re simultaneously too hot and too cold. you’ve buried yourself under three different blankets, trying to shrink away from your misery.

you hear the front door click open and closed, followed by the soft, familiar thud of suguru’s boots being kicked off in the entryway. usually, he’d call out a quiet greeting, but the house stays entirely silent. he already knows you're sick; you had texted him a weak, barely coherent message hours ago before passing out.

the bedroom door creaks open, letting in a sliver of warm hallway light. suguru stands in the doorway, already wearing his comfortable sweatpants and a soft, worn-out black t-shirt. his long dark hair is pulled up into a loose, messy ponytail with a few stray strands framing his face. his expression instantly softens the second his eyes land on the pathetic bundle of blankets on the bed.

"oh, my poor girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that incredibly low, honey-sweet tone he only uses when it’s just the two of you.

he doesn't immediately climb into bed. instead, he pads softly over to the side of the mattress, kneeling down so he’s at eye level with you. he reaches out a hand, his long, elegant fingers brushing a few damp strands of hair away from your forehead. his palm is cool against your burning skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch, letting out a weak & pathetic sigh.

"you're burning up a bit, sweetheart," he says gently, his thumb tracing a comforting line over your cheekbone. "have you taken anything yet?"

you shake your head under the blanket, blinking heavily up at him.

"alright. stay right here. i'll be right back, okay?"

he disappears back down the hallway, and you can hear the distant, comforting sounds of him moving around the kitchen. the soft clink of a ceramic mug, the low rumble of the electric kettle, and the opening of the medicine cabinet. even though you feel terrible, the sheer routine of him taking care of you makes you feel a hundred times better.

when suguru returns, he’s carrying a small tray. on it is a glass of ice water, a steaming mug of honey-lemon tea, and two small pills. he sets it down on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight.

"come here, let me help you up," he whispers. his large hands slide under your armpits, effortlessly lifting you up against the headboard so you can sit upright. you complain weakly about the cold air hitting your shoulders, but he just chuckles softly, pulling one of the thickest blankets up around your chin like a cocoon.

he holds the glass of water to your lips, letting you take a few small sips before handing you the medicine. once you’ve swallowed it, he guides the warm mug of tea into your hands, keeping his own hands wrapped around yours to keep them steady as you drink. the warm liquid instantly soothes the scratchiness in your throat.

"good job," he murmurs, taking the empty mug and setting it aside. "c'mere, sweet girl."

finally, suguru lifts the heavy blankets and slides onto the bed right beside you. he pulls you straight against his side, tucking your head securely into the dip where his neck meets his shoulder. one of his long arms wraps around your waist, pulling you so close that you can hear the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. his other hand goes straight to your head, his long fingers gently massaging your scalp in slow, repetitive motions that instantly start to dull the pounding headache behind your eyes.

"close your eyes," he whispers against your hair.

you twist your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, shivering slightly as another wave of fever-chills hits you. suguru notices immediately. he shifts, pulling the blankets all the way up over both of your shoulders and pressing his entire, warm body against your back to act as a human radiator.

"don't come any closer," you mumble, your voice thick and stuffed up as you try to pull the blanket higher over your face. "you're going to get sick if you kiss me."

suguru just lets out a soft, amused huff, completely ignoring your warning as he sits down on the edge of the bed. he reaches out, gently tugging the edge of the blanket down just enough to reveal your eyes and your flushed, pink nose.

"i don't care," he murmurs softly, a tender smile playing on his lips.

before you can protest again, he leans down and presses a warm, lingering kiss right to the center of your forehead, then another one to the tip of your nose. he lingers there for a second, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your watery eyes.

"if i get sick, then we can just stay in bed and look after each other," he whispers, sliding under the covers to pull you close against his chest. "now stop worrying and close your eyes, baby."

part 1: chest problems? caleb can help

It’s become routine. Daily, even. 

Nobody who catches sight of your newfound acts of comfort bats an eye anymore. Nobody except for gran, who continues to give you disturbed and disapproving looks. 

“Caleb, take your hands out from underneath her shirt,” your grandma says sternly. Her wrinkles deepen as she frowns, pushing her reading glasses into her hair. “I don’t know how many times I need to say this. You are siblings. You don’t touch your little sister this way.” 

“She’s comfortable. And knock before you come in. Don’t make me install a lock on the door.” Caleb stares back, as if challenging her. “Plus,” he presses his nose into your hair, “she’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her up, do you?” 

“This is hardly appropriate,” she replies instead, like a broken record, standing in front of where you both lie in Caleb’s bed. Her gaze holds disappointment and disgust. “I expected better from you. As her elder brother.” 

“I’m doing a fine job,” Caleb mutters. “I’d do anything for her. And that includes taking care of all of her needs.” 

Half sick of their arguing and half annoyed at the interrupted silence, you snuggle closer to him, hoping your actions will cease their arguments. Your movement effectively does its job without forcing you to admit that you’re awake. 

“Just yell when dinner is ready,” Caleb sighs as he affectionately runs his hand through your hair. “I’ll stay here and keep my baby sister company until then.” 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sis?” Caleb’s chin is hooked over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist and hands comfortably cupping your breasts. 

"C'mon...dont look away from me now." Giggles came out of your mouth, and a handsome grin stretched upon the face of big bro. Eyes hooded as he look down on you, perched on his lap with a cheeky smirk on your face.

"Let me kiss that lips. Just a little bit." Pursing his lips, He push himself to catch the plush of your lips only to be met with the skin of your cheek, and you chuckle again.

"Brat. What a damn, damn brat." And he's smooching all over your face, lips smacking in loud 'mwah's, earning more giggles and half-hearted "stop.." "so gross." came out of your mouth even as you let yourself being assaulted with kisses.

His hands were all over you, groping and probbing the fat of your sides, fingers tugging at the waistband of your shorts, slipping in past your panties to grab at the full of your ass. And you grind when you feel the hard of him poking through his pants.

18+

╰┈➤ cw: incest, big bro x lil sis, incel big bro, lovestruck lil sis awww 😣😣🩷, nothing major. Perhaps, oh, shotgunning smoke...

Lil sis that doesn't know the thing her big bro had been fighting or gone through, and big bro that been avoiding her because 'he just is'. You just thought, this last few weeks.. big bro looks so lonely.

You dont know about the incel, neet trait he'd been giving out, throwing sharp comments as he spoke out 'it's not my job' when mom told him to do his own laundry, mom shouting out 'make yourself helpful, ungrateful brat!' as he quickly lock himself in his room again.

So you took the dirt to clean it up, it's the least you could do to help your brother going through whatever it is. But sometimes, you stood by his door, listening through the wood to make sure he's still breathing, or at least alive. You miss the time where he would accompany you doing things, watching movies together, eating in the same bowl. God, you miss him.

satoru is obsessed with your tits; tell him to stop being weird, and he will pout for hours until you let him continue. at first, you always huffed and softly slapped his hand away whenever he did shove his under your shirt. but now? now you know his tells, his impulses, you let him shove his hands under whatever piece of material you’re wearing and let him have his fun.

it does happen when you’re cooking, but mostly when you’re laying between his legs with your back comfortably against his chest. his hands like to wander, starting with your thighs, drags his fingers up and down them slowly, content enough while watching the TV, but then they’re sliding under your shirt, hands sliding up and down your hips before his fingers skim across your ribs and before you know it his hands are instantly on your tits, cupping and squeezing them like his own personal stress ball. 

tonight though satoru’s got his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, fingertips dragging up your bare back every few seconds before back to your waist, a simple effective pattern that causes goosebumps to rise on your skin. you’re both relaxed in your bed, some shitty comedy plays in the background, volume low and comfortable but you’re more focused on your giant white haired boyfriend, fingers threading through his soft locks each time he shifts.

“they’re like my own pillows,” he mutters lazily, burying his face right between your tits, hands tightening around your waist. “plush pillows, extra comfort, if you will.”

“toru, you’re so weird,” you scoff playfully but can’t stop the giggle that slips out when he hums and shakes his head side to side slightly. “seriously, are you going to hold and play with them all night?”

to prove his point once again he squeezes them in his hands, a smirk smug appearing on his lips at the sudden jolt of your body. “mhmm, you like it, don’t you, sweetheart?” he doesn’t stop, nor moves from between your legs, stays put and laughs each time your nails scratch at his scalp each time he squeezes or even pinches your nipples between his fingertips. “think ya do like this, baby, a little too much.”

“as if you don’t like touching my tits a little too much every day anyway,” you try to sound tough, but it comes out weak; your hands slip from his hair to his shoulder, where you grip gently, not pulling him in closer but not pushing him away either. you’ve always been weak in the knees to his touch, no matter what. “you have an oral fixation with them, surely.”

“never said i didn’t, didn’t prove i do either,” satoru admits, another sly grin tugging at his lips suddenly due to his own words. “but now that you mention it, maybe i do have one.”

“what does that me— oh shit” your words are cut off instantly, a moan slips past instead, the second he’s wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue slowly and painfully swirling around the hard bud like nothing else matters in the world, and maybe it doesn’t. especially not when it comes to you. you’re the only thing that ever matters to him. “okay, you do have one.” you gasped, fingers reaching back up and tugging at the soft white hair you love so much.

your back arches up into him, chest pushing closer to his mouth when his teeth graze around your nipple, nails curling into his soft hair even harder each time he repeats the action, smirking smugly around the bud. “asshole.” you moan and slowly find your body relaxing at his touch despite your words.

he alternates between both your tits, spending a few minutes biting, licking and sucking one while pinching the other before switching and giving the other the same attention. doesn’t stop nor slow down whenever your fingers tug and pull harder on his hair, if anything it spurs him on to keep going.

by the time he pulls away, a small break it you will, his cheeks are flushed, that same blush creeps down his neck hotly, a string of spit connected to his lips and one of your nipples, said lips curl up into a dangerous smirk when you pant again, staring at him with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. “you always taste so sweet, honey.” 

you don’t reply, or you simply can’t because he’s wrapping his lips around your other nipple again before you can even think about replying to his words, his hand kneads at your other tit, pinching and pulling gently at the sensitive bud between his fingertips. “toru, jesus christ, you’re so messy,” you whine at the sight of more spit coating his chin and tug at his hair harder.

the tug pulls a harsh groan from him that vibrates throughout your body and your legs tighten around his waist now that he’s positioned his body more or so that he’s laying on top of you, eager to touch and taste you. he hums each time you squirm beneath him when his teeth once again scrape your nipple, his other hand not one let up his kneading motion. smirks at each high pitched whine and whimper that tumbles out of your lips when he bites just a little harder, tugs, lets it go with a pop! and repeat.

you had refused all week to give into yuji's plan that he had stolen from the internet. you were mature, healed and too busy to deal with these little dares. but it was up until one bored evening where you had finally succumbed to his challenge.

Your phone was on speaker, with the line ringing for the contact name of your ex-husband which was simply titled 'sukuna'.

no love hearts, no kisses or nicknames. you were completely over him and have been for years. the only reason you stay in touch with him is for Yuji's sake.

"I don't think he'll pick up yuj' " you murmured to him slightly. "your dad's been busy these past few days.'

and just like the old days, Sukuna always manages to prove you wrong -he always needed to embarrass you, even when he wasn't even here in the flesh.

"hello?" a coarse voice rings out on the other end of the line.

"hello." you respond and immediately you feel your stomach fall in knots. you're nervous. and you don't even know why.

looking up at yuji, his expectant face is watching eagerly as if he enjoys torturing you. he mouths "say it! say it!" and you feel like you have no choice but to continue with your dare.

you swallow down your nerves and attempt to speak as nonchalant as possible. "I just wanted to call and say goodnight."

There's a pause and there's something inside you that just knows how much he's smirking right now.

"Oh really?" he starts putting on a sultry tone, "you haven't done that in a while, is something wrong?"

you pull a face, willing your body to not fall for his tone of voice. no you won't fall like you did all those years ago. absolutely not. "No, I just wanted to say goodnight."

"do you need me to come over and tuck you in as well or....?"

"no! uhm, I mean no I'm fine but y'know I hope you have a good night."

yuji's meanwhile in the corner of the room clenching his stomach and trying his hardest not to let out a laugh.

"hmmm."

"what?"

"cut the crap."

"I'm not-" you start but sukuna manages to cut you off pretty quickly.

"listen, either tell me what you really want or don't bother wasting my time."

you pull a face, "me telling you good night is a waste of your time now?"

"yes."

"what are you even doing right now? it's 11pm and i know you don't have shit to do."

"don't turn this on me, baby, this is all about you."

"don't call me baby." you mutter.

"then don't call me to say good night."

you roll your eyes, you should have known that even the conversation of 'good night' would naturally turn into an argument between the two of you.

"is yuji good? you sure you don't need me to come over to help take care of a pre-teen?" he mocks.

"i don't" you bite, "i was just being kind and saying goodnight, i know how lonely it must get over there. are you sure you're doing alright?" your tone is filled with sarcasm, attempting to play sukuna at his favourite game.

"i dunno', " he starts, "i might need to come over to your bed so you can keep me company.'

you immediately hang up. you're done and finished. whilst yuji's laughing away in the corner all you can do is roll your eyes at the conversation.

but there's a little part.

a little part of you that you won't ever admit to yourself that misses him.

the concept of "personal property" is foreign to your roommate. what belongs to him and what belongs to you simply does not exist in the vocabulary of his.

so when you enter your shared apartment after a grueling nine-hour shift, you already recognize the rhythmic buzz echoing down the hallway. it’s the exact same sound you’ve confronted him about three times this month.

you march down the carpeted hallway and throw the bedroom door wide, not even bothered to knock because he certainly didn’t ask permission to breach your space.

and there he is, your thoroughly infuriating, completely shameless roommate, sprawled across your duvet with those absurdly long, pale legs monopolizing the entire mattress. his glasses are askew on his face, the lenses clouded from his own ragged gasps as he rubs your favourite wand's head against his sensitive cockhead—smearing his sticky pre-cum all over.

“gojo!” you snap, your delivery flat and dripping with unadulterated irritation. "you are doing it again?!"