Nanami went to work under you. His tongue lapped up every bit of sweetness that leaked from you, and he kissed your clit and tasted you like a man starved.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, his mind so foggy he didn't even notice the curse slip from his slick covered lips.

You wrapped your hands around his cock and gave him a few experimental twists before taking in the tip, whimpering as the familiar taste of dick overwhelmed your buds.

"That feels good, sweetheart," he hummed, a deep rumble from his chest that vibrated against your wet folds.

“Huh…?”

Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?

If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”

Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.

There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.

But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.

Damn it. Damn it all!

In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.

Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.

You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.

Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.

After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.

“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”

“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.

“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.

“…” This shithead. That's it.

“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”

“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”

Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.

“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.

“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”

Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.

You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.

“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”

He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.

And after a while...

“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”

The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.

“Mm-hmm, I know.”

“Really.”

“Mmm, really, really.”

He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”

Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.

“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”

And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.

“They're just some paranoid old fools—”

“Mm-hmm.”

“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”

“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”

“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”

...oh.

And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.

First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.

And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.

It made something inside you flutter.

“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”

“Huh?”

“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”

Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.

But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—

“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”

The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.

The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.

“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”

You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.

Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.

“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—

But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.

And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.

“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”

And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.

“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.

“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”

“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”

At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.

“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”

Epilogue

Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Satoru... what are you...?"

He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."

However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.

"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."

When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.

"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"

"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."

Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered your baby—

"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"

You leaned in, placing sweet kitten licks on the leaking tip, and that's when Toji's tongue began to move, in tandem with yours. Your back arched deliciously from the stimulation, a sugary cry leaving your lips.

"Toji—Fuck," you hissed, absentmindedly grinding your hips back onto his face, smothering his nose and lips in your slick. Toji groaned under you, happily accepting the essence dribbling from your core, curling his tongue upwards as he slid it inside you.

Your moans were muffled as you took him in, your lips descending until your throat was at its limit, your small, delicate hands twisting around what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"Shit, that's it, good girl." he sighed, resuming the motions of his wet muscle, fucking it in and out of you, euphoria shooting through your body and causing you to lose your focus.

Noticing your loss of clear mind, Toji donned a smug grin as he began not only thrusting his tongue into you, but also rutting his hips up into your mouth every time you stopped.

"Mmf—baby, no, can't take anymore!' you mewled, body shaking as you felt him insert a finger.

"Not stopping 'till you cum. Keep suckin' and I might think about it."

Another thick finger pushed into your hole, prompting that tell-tale feeling of heat blooming in your lower stomach. Toji could tell you were close by the way you clenched around his digits and tongue.

You tried your best to resume sucking him off, slowly bobbing your head up and down the length of his cock. But your tear-filled eyes overcrowded with stars, blinding your vision and soon enough, your orgasm washed over you like a wave.

"Ah, 'm cumming..." you sobbed, thighs quivering only to be held down by Toji as he lapped up every last bit of your climax.

You weren't expecting the huge load of seed that later filled your mouth, looking back at Toji with doe eyes and cheeks overflowing with sticky white, wondering what you should do.

Your hands dug for his belt, quickly unbuckling the garment and sliding his pants and boxers down as if your life depended on it.

Nanami went to work under you. His tongue lapped up every bit of sweetness that leaked from you, and he kissed your clit and tasted you like a man starved.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, his mind so foggy he didn't even notice the curse slip from his slick covered lips.

You wrapped your hands around his cock and gave him a few experimental twists before taking in the tip, whimpering as the taste overwhelmed your buds.

"That feels good, sweetheart," he hummed, a deep rumble from his chest that vibrated against your wet folds.

One more thrust and he was fully sheathed. Toji groaned, feeling your warmth around his dick.

He slid himself out and pummeled back in, his heavy balls slapping against your clit and causing a shriek to fall from your lips.

“Hm—fuck, you’re so deep..” you mewled, drooling against the pillow his strong hand drowned you into. Toji grinned smugly behind you and gave your ass a hot slap—one that immediately after left a red imprint on your cheek.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right, princess.”

    ⟢ ⌒

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 didn’t find anything wrong with the idea—rather, he found his cock rising under his sweats at the thought of tying you up. It didn’t help knowing how vulnerable you already were under his huge body most times, he knew you’d be absolutely hopeless and at his mercy.

Soon he was tying your wrists together, smirking at the little whines that left your lips. Though, he was enjoying this a little too much.

“Comfortable, baby?” He asked as he roamed his hands down your back, gripping the fat of your ass, and you gave him a meek but hurried nod.

“‘Toru just put it in already,” you’d mumbled, feeling impatience wash over you, pushing your backside flush to his hips and sensually grinding on him.

Stifling a groan, Satoru placed his blindfold over your eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it in reall soon.”

And he did.

But to your surprise and delight, the loss of sight made your other senses more sensitive. Your cunt quivered with every rough thrust Satoru drove into you, and your skin felt as if it were on fire with the way his rough palms grasped at your hips.

On the other hand, he was enjoying this just as much—if not more. You seemed to tighten around him harder than usual, not to mention the very fact that you weren’t trying to run away from every rut of his hips.

And he enjoyed the freedom he had over your body, snaking his hand to your clit, rubbing the nub of nerves in lazy figure eight’s until your body shook, overstimulated.

“You’re not—hah—supposed to enjoy it this much!” You moaned, feeling the head of his cock hit your sweet spot deliciously as he continued the motions of his hand. “‘S too much.”

“Mmm? Nothin’s too much, take what I give you.”

⟢ ⌒

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 wasn’t exactly foreign to the idea. He’s had his fair share of partners and has played into their interests, whether it be in bed or just generally.

But, of all people, his mind couldn’t process why you were requesting such a thing. You’re so small and fragile Nanami just about had to hold himself back every time you got intimate, scared that he’ll hurt you.

Thus, he gives it more thought. Or at least tries to.

But when you’re grinding so greedily on him, begging him in that sugary tone, Nanami can’t think straight. And in the midst of his seducted haze, he follows up with your words.

He ties your arms above your head with his silken and watches as you hopelessly struggle—feeling a primal need to breed you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses the drooling head of his cock in, watching your face intently.

“Ken, you’re so thick—!” you whimper, mouth agape as he begins to drive thrust after thrust into your poor cunt. Truth be told Nanami liked having your hands tied, but he found himself missing the pleasurable pain of your fingernails scratching down his back.

You squeezed around him so deliciously, causing him to groan. Nanami felt hot inside you, the rhythmic thump of him pulsing one that you lost yourself to.

It all felt surreal, the pleasure, the frustration of not being able to freely touch him—but you knew one thing was certain.

This wouldn’t be the last time.

    ⟢ ⌒

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 scoffed as he looked down at you. “You wanna be tied up, huh?” he grinned, beckoning you to sit down on his lap.

Stupid as it seemed, his ego was hurt. Why would you need things to hold you down when his arms did just fine?

“Am I not rough enough with you, woman?” Sukuna questioned, his upper arms set on your waist while his lower ones made quick work of ripping your panties off in one fell swoop.

You flinched as you felt the material rip apart but keep your composure. “‘Kuna, I just wanna try something new..” you frowned as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Oh, we’ll try it.” he hummed, your body jolting as you suddenly felt him press against your pussy. “Just my way.”

Sukuna soon had you crying and begging on his cock as you came for the third time that night, rasping lewd things in your ear.

Instead of a rope binding your arms behind your back, it was his strong hands. One of Sukuna’s hands could easily hold both of yours in a bruising grip.

“Ah, ‘m too sensitive, please,” you sobbed out, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as he reached down and began to rub your clit.

And his eyes. His eyes carried that unmistakable hue of need, practically speaking for themselves.

"Hey," he rasped, noticing you staring back at him, nervously wiping his sweaty palms on the sheets. You tilted your head, unconvinced, and spun around to meet him.

"What's up?" you asked, standing and slowly making your way to him. Satoru couldn't help but focus on the way your hips swayed in the short bodycon dress you wore, seeming plumper--and his mind focused solely on how it'd feel to rest his hands there, grip the meat while he pounds into you.

"Baby, you okay? Should I call Suguru?"

"it's hot in here." he replies out of breath, head thrown back. The erection rubbing against his pants was more than enough stimulation to have him stuttering as he beckoned you closer.

Satoru's hands found their respective place on your hips and pulled you down onto his lap. "Please, I need you. "

-

With enough persuasion, he had successfully shimmied you out of your dress and threw your half naked form on the bed. The double date you'd so meticulously planned with his best friend, Suguru, was now long forgotten as Satoru's cock dragged deliciously against the sweet spots inside you.

"Fuck--'toru, feels so good!" you moaned, your freshly manicured fingers scratching down his muscular back, forming fresh red lines and a tinge of pain in their wake. His body felt so hot against yours, the ridges of his abdomen rubbing against yours as he reached for your hair, taking a handful into his vice grip.

"Takin' it all so well..." he sighed, satisfied with the way you felt so snug around him, tugging the hair in his grasp back until your teary eyes locked with his. "Such a fucking good girl."

By then, your makeup was no more than smudges on your face, your black mascara ran down your cheeks like an inky river, and your lip gloss stuck on the sheets and pillows.

You felt so full it felt almost unreal, and so sensitive it was as if you could feel every fucking vein lining his dick.

And Satoru was cocky when it came to you in the bedroom. And even though he'd essentially begged to take you right there and then, that didn't stop him from teasing.

"I-'m so close, please," you begged, already sensing the slow of his thrusts. Satoru chuckled in front you, giving the side your ass a firm slap before he spoke.

"Yeah? Close to cumming f'me?" he breathed, winding his hips back and driving an onslaught of thrusts into your weeping cunt. His grasp on your hair loosened a bit as he lost himself in the feeling of your warmth, rocks of pleasure coursing through the both of you.

He was hot and thick inside you, pummeling a hole the exact mold of himself into your gummy walls. The room filled with the smell of sex and Satoru let out a guttural groan.

"Fuck--then cum, baby."

And as if acting by command, your body unwound in his hold, your orgasm hitting you in a wave of bliss. You writhed and your legs chook, Satoru following not long after you.

Hot spurts of his seed painted your insides white, and he gave a few thrusts to make sure it stayed. He panted in your ear, his sculpted chest rising and falling in tandem with yours as you both caught your breaths. You both lay there for a moment, winding down from the electricity still rippling through you.

"Baby," he finally spoke. "How're we gonna tell Suguru and his girl?"

You glared, pushing him to the side as you hurriedly grabbed your phone on the nightstand. "We? Satoru, you're telling him."

Pushing your phone to him, you failed to notice the messages from said man. Satoru took your phone and hummed, clicking on the notification and grinned to himself as he read the descending messages.

'fuck we might be a bit late.' - sent at 7:54

'pls don't be mad..are u guys there?' - sent at 8: 21

'i swr it was an emergency.' - sent at 8:21

You help him to unbutton his shirt, knowing how much he hates being in his work clothes. Nanami is eager to kiss you the moment it drops to the ground, hands circling your waist to bring you in closely.

'I quit today. It's all over now,' He pants between your kisses. 'You don't need to worry anymore.'

'What? What's over?" You're praying hard between each second you hold your breath, the day has finally come -

'I quit the job. No more fighting, and no more curses. Today was the last day.'

With his words, you can almost feel how each and every fibre of muscle in his body finally relaxes, how something comes back to life in his eyes again when he looks at you. Something about loving someone so deeply has imprinted on your soul, to a point where you start to think that maybe you become your other half somewhere along the way. Maybe emotions aren't all for one to bear - when one's away, you can still feel the other's suffering.

'When Nanami's happy, you're happy' is an understatement. The two of you are euphoric as you hold each other; Kento sweeps you off your feet as he's unable to contain his joy.

"I might have to burn these clothes forever. I never want to see them again," He sighs after eventually setting you down.

"I know it'd remind you of the past, but Ken," You watch as he kicks the shirt, tie and harness to the side - "I do always love seeing you in a nice suit and tie."

He raises an eyebrow in response, making you giggle. "I'll just have to find a new signature colour for you, won't I?"

"I'd love that, Kento..."

"Come, let me show you how much I love you."

With one swift motion, he's got you in the closest room possible, making sure that the surface he pins you against isn't too uncomfortable - it's a little indecent that he could barely keep his hands off of you in the hallway, but with the way how you look tonight (it's simply the radiance that happiness gives you), he can't help himself. Kento Nanami is a lost man until you give him purpose.

Just as he nips at your neck, he pulls away, blond hair falling into his eyes. "I apologise for coming on so quickly, I just-"

"No need to ask Kento, I want you right now."

He nods, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips, almost shaking when he eventually pulls away. "Mhm?"

"And I'd want you again. And again. It can all be tonight or tomorrow, whenever," You pant between kisses. "We have all the time in the world."

------------------------

Death comes to many too often, and even the life of a regular person can be cut short in an instant. Smaller threats outside of jujutsu sorcery still exist. But what's the point in thinking about that? In comparison to Nanami's previous daily life, it feels like nothing can harm him now.

Escorting him to the couch and having him sit down, Nanami's essentially putty in your delicate hands as you straddle his lap.

"Sweetheart, is there something you need to tell me?" he asks, catching on to your stratagem, tilting his head, amused.

In a feigned fit of hurt you gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. "Ken, how could you?!" you frown, sighing into the skin of his neck soon after, knowing he's caught you. Nanami doesn't say anything, his steady breathing fanning past your ear.

"Okay, well..." he fights to bite back his delight, his eyebrows raising as he listens. "I want to get a new set," you mumble, placing your manicured hand in his.

Nanami gazes down at the pink acrylic, with white French tips completed with bow charms, and hums. "What's wrong with these?" he questions, taking your dainty hand in his rougher one, and inspects your fingers closer, unable to find anything flawed with your current set.

"I just have something else in mind. And I promise once you see them, you'll get why." you pout, innocent eyes peering up at him with that look you know he can't refuse.

How could he ever possibly say no to that irresistible look--how could he ever say no to you?

Now having fell into your own trap, a noise of deep contemplation rumbles from Nanami's chest.

Hell, he has the money, why not?

"Alright. When do you need the money, love?" he questions, and Kento swears he can't hear his own thoughts with how loud you squeal in glee.

"Thank you, ken," you swoon, your eyes overtaking a lusty, familiar hue. His breath catches in his throat as you kiss him, completely under your spell as you yet again escort him to another place, this time, your shared bedroom.

"By Friday, baby."

-

Friday comes relatively smoothly. Nanami sends you the money--a hefty 350 for both your manicure and to get yourself something.

You get your nails done, and with every opportunity, hide them from him until the 'big moment'--or so you called it.

"Are you ready?" you ask, excited, as you hide your hands behind your back. Nanami sits on the bed, deliciously manspread, nodding along.

"Mhm.."

"Okay! Here it goes."

Slowly, you reveal your nails to him.

Utter silence takes over the bedroom.

You frown as you look at Nanami, an indifferent expression on his face. "You don't like them?"

He shakes his head. "No, I do. but they're just pink,"

And he's right, they're just pink. a brownish-blush pink acrylic—a color that oddly resembles the one of his tip.

"Well, yeah. That's the point, Ken." you smile, slowly advancing towards the blond sat on the bed. Placing yourself on his lap, you begin to speak again.

"doesn't this color seem...I don't know, familiar?" Your lips are now snaking up his neck, soft and plush. Nanami finds it hard to speak when you're on him like this, talking in that tone.

"I--" he stutters, attempting his best to inspect your fingertips. "No."

You giggle, a breathy laugh fanning across his skin.

“can’t fuck you properly if you keep tightening up, princess” Toji huffs, leaving a soft smack on your ass, making the skin jiggle as he bends down, picking your phone up and inspecting the screen with a slight smirk, “boyfriend?”

“ex” you whine, muffled by the leather of his backseat.

the scarred corner of his lip tilts up, just slightly before your phone rings again, although this time, Toji presses on the green button, accepting the face call.

“babe, I'm sorry! i di— who the fuck are you?” the gruff voice of a man resonates through the cramped space.

“listen, man” Toji replies, his voice mocking and slightly slurred, accompanied by the slow buck of his hips against your ass, slowly stinking in the warmth tightness of your cunt that fluttered wildly, from the thrill of being heard... or perhaps his skills were still unmatched.

Toji picks up the pace once again, your moans present and accompanied by the wet sound of skin slapping “the lady here is quite busy, why don’t you call back later.”

“why don’t you fuck off, let me speak to her” your ex exclaims, quite agitated as realization starts to set in his features. a shrug is the only response Toji gives, followed by a soft chuckle, big fingers tightening in your forehead and a couple hair strands before pulling up, your face a complete mess of tears and drool, mascara running down your cheeks for your ex to see through the screen, the older men’s mess created on your trembling body, desperate to cum around his fat cock, his own face coming into the frame as he leans down against your shoulder.

“like I told you, man, she is quite busy right now”

SUKUNA

a raised brow is the only reaction your phone gets from Sukuna, a hand tightly gripping your hips, mercilessly pounding your pussy while the other holds the device up, scanning it with a slight smirk before tossing it to you.

“answer” is what he says, still smirking to himself as he slides a hand under your thigh, forcing your hips to rise off the bed as he continues to fuck you deep, messily staining your asscheeks with the slick and precum that oozes out of your hole, “c’mon, i’m getting quite irritated to hear that ringtone, answer and end with it” your boyfriend huffs, although there was a hint of mischief underneath, and you never really trusted his sudden ‘kind’ behaviors.

you swallow deeply, attempting to maintain your voice steadily as you pick up your ex’s phone call, his voice immediately coming into your ears, as well as Sukuna’s deep rumble coming from the bottom of his throat.

and you really should have expected it, for Sukuna to bend down, cup your thighs and force you into a mating press, growling in delight at the way your eyes flutter close, voice stutters and pussy clamps around his cock, gripping him like a vice.

it’s a sharp squeal that comes from your lips, one that is quickly quieted down by his hand on your mouth, giving you a knowing look before retreating it, “behave, finish the call, and i’ll let you cum” he rasps, breath hot and fanning over your neck, sending shivers down your spine while your ex’s voice remains unheard and unimportant in the back.

reduced to being patient, you can only exhale shakily, the phone in your hand about to snap from the tight grip on it, perhaps just like your hips from the intensity of Sukuna’s thrusts on you, making your body bounce on the bed by how hard his cocks drives into the depths of your cunt, positively scraping across your g-spot as you felt your brain shortcut each time.

not even paying attention to your ex, you barely mutter a couple ‘mhm’s constantly, not aware of what you’ve agreed or refused to as your phone calls ends with a hurried “thank you, baby!” from your ex, or at least you think the call has ended as your phone drops to the floor, not really caring as your nails dig on your boyfriend’s back, your moans finally coming freely.

“that’s a good girl, now cum all over your boyfriend’s cock” Sukuna growls, putting an extra accent in the word boyfriend, but you didn’t pay attention to it.

SATORU

it spurs Satoru to know your ex is most definitely hearing your desperate cries of pleasure, it brings him a sense of power, bursts his ego and only urges him into fucking you harder.

it’s not a surprise for you when Satoru goes hard, he often tends to go pussydrunk and pounds you nonstop until himself is panting and growling in pleasure, with sweat dripping down his body and prints of his fingers on your body.

the thing that does surprise you is how vocal he becomes, not by moaning, but by speaking.

“does it feel good, angel?” “you want me to keep going, yeah? right there? oh such a good girl, I can feel your cute pussy clamping on me” he growls, making your whimpers only increase by each raspy word coming out of your boyfriend.

your moans turn into high pitched whines, the rhythmically sound of skin meeting into heavy, wet and erratic slaps of sweat and precum coated skin, and your phone marks 20 minutes ever since he picked up the call for you; you really got a thing for picking pervert boyfriends.

“only I can make you feel this way, hm?” Satoru grins, picking up your phone and closing the phone app, keeping it in the background as he opens the camera, “you’re so wet, can feel you twitching around me” he smirks, biting on the tip of his tongue to conceal a chuckle in delight how you tighten up, thighs shaking and chest heaving.

“come, baby, need to feel you cumming around my cock, make a mess, my love, and let me keep this beautiful pic forever”

it doesn’t take much before your orgasm takes over, and Satoru is quick to follow behind, splattering his thick cum all over your lower belly that manages to get captured by your phone camera.

“so pretty, this will work wonderfully for when the pest decide to continue bothering you”

It’s boring and plain and predictable. When did it get like this? When did he trade in the possessive grabbing for shallow kisses, the adventurous positions for faithful missionary, the spanking and biting and dirty talk for…efficiency? 

And when did you start going along with it?

So many toys in the closet collecting dust. So many steamy conversations, all featuring a wild and dominant Nanami, forgotten once the sex actually starts. 

But there’s no point in staying up late just once, right? Vanilla’s actually a pretty complex spice, didn’t you know?

The thoughts rise and bubble at the forefront of your mind, bursting only when Nanami nudges you on the shoulder. He peers at you over his reading glasses, the soft light of his nightstand lamp casting shadows in the hollows of his cheeks as he sits next to you in bed. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks. “You’ve been staring at that wall for a while.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the blank bit of wall you’ve been locking onto. “No, no. I just…I’ve been thinking…”

He presses a finger to a stopping point in his book and looks up to meet your gaze. That crease between his brows is starting to deepen. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Um…”

Shit. You weren’t planning to actually have this conversation tonight. You were just thinking about it. But Nanami’s eyes are fixed on you for good now, and they’ll stay there until you say something. So you take a breath and hope you only trip over a few words.

“Do you ever think our sex life—“ You stutter when he tilts his head. “—might have gotten too…vanilla?”

“I thought you liked vanilla,” he counters, his tone even, his eyes analytical. Not an insult. A genuine question.

“I mean, sometimes,” you sigh, sliding down the headboard and setting your own book aside. “And the sex is still good.” Really, it is. “But it’s a little, uh, too good.”

“...It’s too good?” 

“It’s…neat. Nice and neat and to the point.”

“To the point?” he repeats, each word a little shorter than the last. 

You suck in a breath and force a smile. You rest your hand on his in a bid to show him that you’re not criticizing him. You just want…a different kind of spice. His eyes flick down to your hand before meeting yours again, his pinched brows pushing that crease even deeper.

“Just…what about all those toys we have, you know?” you continue, jerking your head in the direction of the closet. You can hear the faintest breath hitch in his chest. “And remember the things we used to do? When you’d take over and get rough and tie me up and bend me over the—”

“I get it.” He coughs and closes his book. This time, his eyes flit to anything but you as he sets it on the nightstand along with his glasses. “I remember. I just always thought you…liked vanilla,” he says again.

“Sometimes,” you say again, too. “But with all the other…flavors…out there, why only stick with one?”

You watch him with a tight chest and busy hands, which bunch up the sheets around you. He’s quiet and methodical as he stands up and starts his nightly stretches. That mid-brow crease is a mile deep now. Neither of you say anything else until he’s satisfied with his routine and slips back into bed. 

“Other flavors,” he muses. It’s not clear if he’s speaking to you or himself. “Hmm.”

Is he…mad? Embarrassed? Unbothered? It’s so hard to tell; his face might as well be perfectly chiseled stone. And not that he’s a man of many words on a good day, but those words have been especially clipped since you started bringing up spices and flavors.

“Well. Goodnight,” he says with no ceremony, flipping off his bedside lamp. You stare at what your own lamp is still letting you see of his face.

“Um? Are—are you good?” you ask, sinking fully under the sheets. “Anything you wanna talk about? Questions? Comments?”

“I don’t believe so,” he answers before he closes his eyes. Nothing but a feathering muscle in his jaw contradicts his words, but even that disappears soon. “I see I’ve been misunderstanding you. So now…I need to think.”

“...Well, alright,” you mumble, and with no blank wall to stare at with both lights now off, your thoughts race behind your closed eyes instead.

“Goodnight.”

------------------------

You wake up feeling uneasy the next day. Nanami doesn’t seem particularly bothered—just distracted—as he’s getting ready for work, but he never acknowledges last night’s conversation. He leaves without a word, apparently deep in thought, that brow crease already sunken into his skin. But that feeling doesn’t start gnawing at your chest until you notice he doesn’t text you on his lunch break, which is abnormal for him. 

When he gets home, though, he greets you the same way he usually does. With a quick peck on the lips. 

“Welcome home,” you chirp, forcing a chipper lilt. “How was work?”

You watch him carefully as he answers you, pretending to busy yourself cleaning a particularly stubborn spot on the kitchen table. 

“It was work,” he grunts. “Shitty.”

A brisk answer, you note to yourself. He’s usually complaining about something specific by now. Then you notice, to your dismay, that he’s already loosening his tie. Shit. He normally gives himself at least an hour before he gets out of his work clothes. But there goes his jacket. And he’s unbuttoning his shirt. And now his tie is fully off, too. 

He’s planning to just get into loungewear and read for the rest of the night, is that it? He really is mad, right?

“Kento?” you blurt out.

“Yes?” He watches you with a painfully neutral face as he sets his tie on the table.

“Are you…upset? After what we talked about last night?”

He finally stops unbuttoning his shirt to look at you. His expression is calm, pleasant, but that line between his brows…

“Of course not, love.” He graces you with just enough of a smile to suggest he means it. 

“But—”

“I take it you’ve been cleaning this table?” he redirects, sliding a long finger across the polished wood. You regard both him and the table with a raised brow, then you plant a hand on your hip. What is he doing?

“Um. Yes. But—”

“Good. Then I’ve got something in mind.”

“...What?”

He doesn’t answer, pausing only to unbutton the rest of his shirt and…throw it directly onto the floor. You stare at it for a moment before looking back up at him in his thin undershirt and coming to a realization.

It’s been a while since you’ve looked at him like this. 

Just admiring his form. Under the bright kitchen light, his plain white shirt is but the first layer of the canvas before you, serving to draw your true attention to the sharply cut muscles that lie beneath.

A form truly worth admiring. In all your time together, not once has he let himself slip out of shape. His hard work has woven itself into his very being, evident in everything from his posture to his gait to the veins that crawl across his hands.

And evident, of course, in his body itself. As a tall man, the taper from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist stands out even more. His arms, now freed from that button-down business shirt, show off their contoured shape and strength, such hard muscles sitting just beneath such smooth skin.

Muscles that betray none of their power as he lifts his undershirt up and away, too, and walks up to you, lifting a gentle hand to your face. 

His touch is different tonight. It’s…lighter, every finger like a feather tickling your skin as they glide across your cheek, brush your jaw, slip down to your collarbone, and snake back up the nape of your neck. Every movement a soft, delicate dance. You sink into the sensation, hypnotized, frozen under the goosebumps dotting your skin.

So you’re no less than shocked when he gathers a fistful of hair at the base and pulls on it. Hard.

You only get half a second to yelp before your neck cranes back, subject to the mercy of his hand. Had you not screwed your eyes shut, you may have seen what kind of devilry might be dancing in his eyes before his lips land on the underside of your jaw and drag themselves down, down, down, the heat of his breath caressing your skin before his teeth sink into the tender crook of your neck.

This time, you answer with a whimper. What just happened? When did he manage to herd you toward the edge of the table? And when did his knee find its way between your trembling legs, acting as your source of balance while it pushes against your sex?

You flounder for answers before he lets your neck go, loosens his grip on your hair, and finally gives you the chance to look into his eyes. 

Funny. That crease is gone. But his eyes, typically cool and composed, burn with more than simple desire. It’s something deep, primal, base.

Hunger.

Once you’ve gotten a good look, he gives your bunched up hair another solid, hard tug. Your head snaps back again, and a groan crawls its way out of your strained throat.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he whispers, his lips back against the base of your neck, his teeth dangerously close. “You’re in control.”

You take a second to answer, swept up in the rush of arousal that floods you like a long-awaited rain. How long has it been? When was the last time he played rough like this, much less even spoke of it? 

But that second must have bled into a few more. Because his fingers start to free themselves from your hair. His knee inches back from your core, leaving it aching and cold. Before he can pull any other part of himself away from you, though, your hands fly to both sides of his face and capture it in a firm hold.

“Don’t…stop,” you breathe, your voice soft but steady. “Don’t you dare stop.”

For a moment, he’s silent. Flecks of light dance in his deep brown eyes as they bore into you, and the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit. And then he answers with a sound you rarely hear from him.

A chuckle.

“That’s what I thought.”

He steps in closer again. His body presses firmly against yours, trapping you between himself and the table, fanning embers you’d feared had cooled between you. He’s not saying a word, but his very presence is still so domineering as he reaches for something behind you. After a thorough throat clearing, you find it in yourself to speak.

“What are you—”

“Turn around.”

Electricity shoots through you. You’ve lost your words again, but you don’t need any right now. All you have to do is obey. 

So you do. You turn around and face the table you were scrubbing to hell just a few minutes ago, the embers in your stomach growing into flames when you catch a streak of speckled yellow slipping out of your sight.

His tie.

His lips find their way to your neck again, leaving kisses in no discernable pattern as he slides a finger down your spine. You gulp ever so slightly.

“So you want it rough?” he purrs against you. “You want the old days back?” His hand snakes down to the small of your back, resting on it like he knows it’s his. 

“You want me to order you around, make you whine and beg for more, own you?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter. 

His soft tie brushes past your hands, swinging softly behind you until it slows to a stop. He’s paused again. You meant what you said. You do want it. But your squeak of an answer probably wasn’t convincing.

“You sure?” he asks. He presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to your shoulder. “I don’t want to push you.”

You close your eyes, taking a moment to savor his soft lips, the heat of his bare chest against your back. Not even a kiss on your shoulder made it into your vanilla routine. Is that why you’re nervous? Because this kind of contact is new again?

You push back against him, smiling when your backside meets his growing length. If this is new, then you’re ready to explore it all over again. You take a breath and steady your voice.

“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I want it all, Kento.”

You reach behind yourself for that bulge you felt a second ago. It doesn’t take long to find it. You stroke him over his pants, your smile growing into a full grin when he curses and groans.

But it’s just a momentary slip. He clears his throat, and the hand he’d left on the small of your back pushes into your skin while he lays another between your shoulder blades. Both are tense and hard when they urge you down.

“Then bend over.”

That electricity surges within you again, branching out into bolts of lightning that reach deeper, lower than your stomach. There it is. That voice, that voice, the one he used when everything was new. A voice lower and deeper than usual, full of calm authority, tinted with growing hunger. You’d almost forgotten how sweet it sounds in your ears.

It’s a siren song that directs your every movement, and you bend over until your torso is flat on the table. He palms your ass over your dress, taking his time, caressing and grabbing and squeezing it before he directs himself back to the hands lying next to you at either side.

“First, since you’re so grabby right now…” he tuts, securing your hands behind your back. “I think I’ll go ahead and take care of that.”

You feel his silken tie wrap around your wrists one, two, three times, then a couple more, your breath hitching when it’s tied and tightened into a firm hold. You flex your hands and strain your wrists. You won’t be wriggling out of this easily. Nanami gives the knot one last tug for reassurance before he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Comfortable?” he asks. “Not too tight?”

“Comfortable,” you confirm. Without any hands free to grab for it, you push yourself back a bit and against the bulge still stuck beneath his pants. He hisses, grabs your ass, and pushes you back, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Good,” he simply says, disregarding your little display. “Because I’ll be keeping you like that for a while.”

Finally, he lifts your dress up to your back, pushing some of it under your bound wrists. You turn your head away from his line of sight, smiling again, waiting for his response. 

The quiet, low hum he lets out is the only indication that he might have been close to cracking.

“Nothing under this dress…” he whispers. “Were you expecting this to happen tonight?”

The flutter in your chest almost stops you from answering.

“I don’t know,” you admit, lifting your head from the table to speak. “I was hoping, I guess…because I couldn’t figure out how you felt after we talked last night. You didn’t really say anything, Kento.”

“Oh…” he murmurs. His hold on you softens. “I’m sorry, darling. Truth be told, I was happy you brought it up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you grumble.

“I know,” he coos. “We’d just been sticking with vanilla for so long that I thought it was your favorite…flavor. So I started thinking so much about what I wanted to do to you that I forgot to actually communicate.” His hand, strong but gentle, runs up and down your back before combing through your hair again. “Can you forgive me?”

“If you keep this up, then yeah. All is forgiven,” you giggle.

He lets out a low chuckle, too, and rubs your bare ass a few times before giving it a firm smack. You gasp in response, a little from surprise, a little from excitement. He’s just set the tone for the rest of the night.

“Then let me be very clear about my intentions tonight,” he croons, that velvet voice flowing over you like sweet ganache. The hand he’d brushed through your hair gathers it into another messy pony and gives it a pull. A hard, sharp pull demanding obedience.

“I’m going to do as I please, right here.” Another smack against your ass, and another, and another, each a little harder than the last. Stinging, intoxicating, delicious heat radiates from your skin when he stops. 

“You’re going to do as I say.” His hand glides to your entrance, a single finger slipping and sliding up and down, teasing you. The moment you start to moan, he wipes off the slick he’d gathered against your thigh. “And you won’t come until I say you can.”

You shiver at his words, almost overwhelmed at all the control he’s demanding over you. It’s flowing so naturally from him. Like he’s picking up right where he left off.

Has he been aching for this, too?

Your thoughts screech to a halt when he smacks your other cheek, letting it burn as much as the first.

“Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming under his hands. “Yes. Do it all. Please.”

He hums in approval and leans over, his finger just barely dipping inside of you. 

“I’ll do everything for you,” he purrs. His chest meets your back again, and his lips brush the shell of your ear. “In return, all I ask is that you communicate with me, too.”

And while he’s still leaning over you, on you, his finger slides all the way in. You gasp and groan as that lightning strikes something even deeper within you, sparking a wild flame.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Another finger slips in.

“Tell me when it’s too much. Tell me when it’s not enough.”

His fingers pump inside you, angling down toward your stomach, stoking your fire.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you!” you keen, so breathless already, every nerve in your body a live wire. “I want you to take control. I want you to fuck me like you used to!”

His fingers slow inside you, but you can feel his smile spread across your skin. Then, he shares just one note before he pulls them out, slides his hands underneath you, and flips you onto your back: