Just small touches at first.

Little pats.

Your fingers slowly sliding higher toward his shoulders before eventually reaching the back of his neck, slipping into soft pink strands.

Then you’d spread your fingers slightly, getting a better grip before suddenly tightening your hand and tugging his hair hard to make his head tilt back.

Not hard enough to hurt him.

But enough to force his head back slightly.

Just enough to make him feel it.

“What the fuck was that?” you’d whisper against his ear with a smile that was anything but sweet.

And every single time, Sukuna reacted the same way.

That slow, dangerous grin.

Tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Like the jealous tone in your voice entertained him way more than it should’ve.

Then there were moments on the couch.

Messy kissing sessions that always got out of hand way too quickly.

You on top of him, holding his face while his hands stayed locked on your hips, guiding your movements against him with shameless insistence until your breathing turned uneven between kisses.

And whenever your lips drifted toward his neck, your hand always found his hair eventually.

Like muscle memory.

One hand against his throat.

The other tangled into soft pink strands before pulling his head back to expose more of his neck to you.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Sukuna would let out the hottest fucking moan.

Low. Rough. Completely unplanned.

The kind of sound that made heat rush straight between your thighs instantly.

And to be honest, the more you heard it, the more obsessed you became with making him do it again.

But the moment you truly realized just how much he loved it happened one night in bed.

Sukuna was between your legs, completely devouring you like a man starving to death.

Your skirt was pushed up around your waist, panties shoved aside carelessly while your fingers stayed twisted tightly in the sheets beneath you.

Meanwhile, Sukuna looked almost fucking drunk on you.

One hand hooked beneath your thigh to keep your legs spread open while the other pulled you closer every time you squirmed too much from the overwhelming pleasure.

You could barely think straight.

Barely breathe.

And then suddenly, without lifting his head for even a second, Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

At first you thought he was trying to pin your hand down.

Instead, he guided it upward.

Straight into his hair.

The realization hit you immediately.

Oh.

You tangled your fingers into the pink strands before giving them an experimental tug, pulling him closer against you.

And Sukuna fucking moaned.

The sound vibrated directly against you, making your entire body twitch.

Not annoyance.

Not surprise.

Need.

And after that?

He completely lost whatever restraint he had left.

More tongue.

More desperation.

More filthy sounds muffled against your skin every single time you pulled his hair again.

That was the moment your little theory became a fact.

Your terrifying, intimidating boyfriend had a thing for getting his hair pulled.

A bad one.

After that, you started doing it constantly.

When you kissed him.

When you were angry at him.

When you cuddled.

Even when you were making love.

Just to watch those subtle little reactions he tried so hard to hide.

And eventually, you decided to finally call him out on it.

“Did you know you have a fetish for getting your hair pulled Ryo?” you asked casually one evening during dinner.

Sukuna nearly stopped mid-bite.

The reaction was tiny, almost unnoticeable, but you caught it instantly.

His brows furrowed slightly while he stared at you with that familiar irritated look.

“You say a lot of stupid shit,” he muttered before finally bringing the food to his mouth.

Your smile widened immediately.

There it was.

Denial.

“You moan more when I pull it,” you continued casually, resting your chin against your palm. “It’s actually so fucking hot—”

“You’re imagining things.”

He still refused to look directly at you.

But unfortunately for him, you noticed the way the tips of his ears slowly started turning red.

Oh, you fucking caught him.

Beneath the table, you slowly slipped your foot out of your slipper, dragging it teasingly higher along his inner thigh before finally rubbing against his semi-hard cock through his pants.

Sukuna finally looked up at you then.

Sharp red eyes immediately locking onto yours.

And judging by the way his jaw tightened—

you already knew you were right.

Your smile turned downright evil.

“So it’s not just the pulling itself,” you tease softly, rubbing your foot against him through his pants. “Even talking about it gets you hard, huh?”

Silence.

“Wanna test my theory?” you ask sweetly.

Sukuna lets out a low half-laugh, leaning further back into his chair while his gaze slowly drifts downward to where your foot keeps moving against him so cruelly beneath the table.

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

Then he looks back up at you again.

And fuck, that look alone almost makes heat rush straight between your thighs. “You’re fucking evil,” he mutters, though the amused grin on his face completely ruins the insult.

“Come here,” he says finally, patting one of his thighs with that small, dangerous smile.

He pats his thigh once.

And you obey so fast it almost makes him laugh.

Very obediently.

After that, Sukuna stopped denying it. Mostly because every time you pulled his hair, his body betrayed him before he could even open his mouth.

It became your favorite way to ruin him.

seeing you now drives him insane.

you’re in his kitchen again, helping his mom with groceries like you always do. satoru leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you laugh at something his mother says. you’re wearing shorts that hug your thighs and a loose top that slips off one shoulder. he wants to rail you so badly it hurts. wants to push you against the counter, shove those shorts down, and fuck you until you finally see him as a man.

“hey,” he says, voice low and smooth as he walks in. he’s learned how to turn on the charm. “you look good today. new shorts?”

you glance down, then smile like he’s still ten years old. “these old things? thanks, satoru. you’re sweet.”

sweet. the word burns.

he steps closer, towering over you now. “i’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

you laugh softly, patting his arm like you used to when he threw tantrums. “of course you’re not. you’re all grown up. my little troublemaker became a heartthrob, huh?”

satoru’s jaw tightens. he wants to grab you, pin you to the wall, and show you exactly how grown up he is. instead he flashes that signature gojo grin, leaning in so his breath brushes your ear.

“you should let me take you out sometime. dinner. drinks. whatever you want.”

you blink, tilting your head with that innocent confusion that drives him crazy. “aww, that’s so nice of you! are you practicing your lines for the girls at school? you’re gonna break so many hearts.”

he nearly groans. “i’m not practicing. i mean it. i want to take you out. just us.”

you wave him off with a smile, completely missing the heat in his eyes. “you’re adorable. but i’m way too old for you, satoru. focus on college girls your age.”

adorable.

the word makes something snap inside him. he’s imagined you on your knees, lips wrapped around his cock. imagined folding you in half and pounding you until you scream his name. imagined filling you up while you moan about how big he is.

and you still call him adorable.

he steps even closer, backing you against the counter. his height makes it impossible for you to ignore how much he’s grown. “i’m not a little kid anymore,” he says, voice dropping. “i know what i want. and i want you.”

you laugh again, reaching up to ruffle his hair like you did when he was eight. “you’re so funny. always teasing your old babysitter.”

satoru catches your wrist gently but firmly, holding it against his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is racing. his blue eyes burn into yours.

“i’m not teasing.”

for a second you pause. but then you smile again. “you’ll find a nice girl soon. i promise.”

he lets you go, watching you walk away to help his mom again. his cock is half-hard in his pants just from being close to you. the frustration is driving him insane.

every time you treat him like the child he used to be, it only makes him want to ruin you more. to prove how much of a man he is by fucking you so deep you forget you ever saw him as anything but yours.

satoru leans against the counter, eyes dark and hungry as he watches you move around the kitchen. he stays there until he can’t take it anymore, then pushes off the counter and heads upstairs to his room without a word.

the second his door clicks shut, he’s already palming himself through his pants. he frees his aching cock and starts stroking, hoping that you’ll take the garden path home like you usually do so you’ll walk right past his window and hear the wet sound of his hand pumping his cock and the moans he doesn’t even try to hide because he wants you to know. he wants you to hear exactly what you do to him.

a few days later, satoru comes back from a late training session when he cuts through the side yard like he always does. your bedroom curtain is pulled mostly closed, but there’s a gap—just enough, and he stops dead. through the narrow opening he sees you.

you’re on top, completely naked, riding your stupid boyfriend with slow rolls of your hips. your head is tilted back, lips parted, hands braced on his chest. the moonlight catches the curve of your breasts, the way they bounce every time you sink down. your boyfriend’s hands are on your waist, guiding you, but his thrusts look lazy.

satoru’s mouth goes dry.

he should look away. he knows he should. but he can’t. his cock hardens instantly, straining against his pants as he watches you move. you look so pretty like this—flushed, glowing, lost in pleasure. but something ugly twists in his chest because it’s not him underneath you. he wants to be him so fucking bad.

before he can think, satoru slips behind the bushes, hidden in the shadows. his hand shoves into his pants, wrapping around his aching cock. he strokes himself in time with your movements, eyes locked on the way your body rises and falls. every soft moan that drifts through the cracked window makes him leak.

“fuck… you should be riding me,” he whispers. his fist moves faster, thumb swiping over the head as he imagines it’s your tight, wet heat instead. he pictures grabbing your hips, slamming you down on his much bigger cock, making you scream his name instead of whatever soft sounds you’re making now.

he cums hard, biting his lip to stay quiet, painting his hand while watching you chase your own pleasure. the sight of you cumming—back arching, mouth open in a silent cry—pushes him over the edge again. he milks himself through it, thick, messy spurts flooding into his boxers and soaking through his pants. after the orgasm fades and reality came back he stares down at the dark wet patch on the front of his sweatpants.

later that night he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, still half-hard while his damp pants he cleaned in a hurry so his mom wouldn’t notice, dry on the back of his chair in his room. that loser didn’t even make you cum properly. satoru could tell.

your moans were pretty, but not desperate enough. your body moved like you were doing most of the work. he knows he would be so much better for you. he would flip you over, pin you down, and fuck you so deep and so good you’d forget any other man existed. he’d make you cum until you cried, until your legs shook, until you begged him to fill you up. he’d treat you like the goddess you are instead of some half-assed ride.

the jealousy burns hotter than the lust now. you still see him as the little kid you babysat. you have a boyfriend who can’t even make you cum right, and you smile at satoru like he’s harmless.

it makes him insane.

the next afternoon he sees you working in the garden.

you’re kneeling in the flowerbed next door, wearing those same old shorts that ride up your thighs and a loose tank top, hair tied back messily as you dig around the roses. the sun makes your skin glow. satoru leans against the wooden fence that separates your yards, arms crossed over his chest, watching you in silence for a long moment. his eyes trace the curve of your back, the way your shorts cling when you shift, the soft bounce of your breasts every time you reach forward.

his cock twitches at the memory of last night—you riding that loser, the way your body moved, the sounds you made. he still feels a little ashamed about cumming in his pants like a desperate pervert, but the hunger is stronger.

finally he speaks, voice casual but laced with something darker.

“had a good night?”

you look up, brushing dirt off your hands, and give him that same bright, innocent smile you always do. “oh, hey satoru. yeah, it was alright. why do you ask?”

he shrugs, but his blue eyes are intense behind his sunglasses. “just curious. you seemed… busy.”

you laugh softly, standing up and stretching. the hem of your tank top rides up, showing a sliver of skin, and satoru’s gaze drops there instantly.

“nothing special,” you say. “just hung out with my boyfriend. watched a movie, you know how it is.”

satoru’s jaw tightens. he wants to tell you that “hung out” clearly wasn’t enough if you weren’t even satisfied. instead he flashes his usual grin and leans further over the fence.

“movie, huh? sounds boring. you deserve better than boring.”

you tilt your head, amused. “are you offering to entertain me now, little satoru?”

there it is again. little satoru.

the nickname stings worse than usual after what he saw last night. he wants to vault over the fence, push you down into the dirt, and fuck you right there in the garden until you scream his name instead of calling him little anything.

“i could entertain you way better than a movie,” he says. “just say the word.”

you chuckle and wave him off, going back to your flowers like he’s still the kid you used to babysit. “you’re such a flirt these days. go find a girl your own age.”

satoru stays leaning against the fence, watching you work, heart pounding and cock half-hard again. the frustration coils tighter in his chest. one day you’ll stop seeing him as the little boy next door. one day he’ll make you see exactly how much he’s grown—preferably while he’s buried nine inches deep inside you.

as you lean down deeper to reach a stubborn weed, your loose tank top slips forward. satoru catches a clear view of your tits—soft, full, and perfect, nipples just barely hidden by the thin fabric. the sight hits him like a punch to the gut.

his cock instantly swells, painfully hard again in seconds.

he can’t tear his eyes away. he imagines pulling your top down completely, watching those pretty tits spill out into his hands. he wants to grope them, squeeze them, bury his face between them while he fucks you. he wants to suck on your nipples until they’re swollen and sensitive, until you’re whimpering and arching into his mouth.

the urge to take a picture is so strong it almost hurts. he wants to save this view forever—the way your tits hang and sway as you work, the soft curve of them, the way they move when you shift. his fingers twitch at his side, desperate to grab his phone, but he forces himself to stay still.

he can’t. not without risking everything.

instead, he just stares, breathing hard through his nose, cock throbbing angrily in his pants as fantasies flood his mind. he wants to cover them in his cum. he wants to watch them bounce while you ride him. he wants to mark them as his.

he can’t take it anymore. muttering a quick excuse, he turns and practically runs inside his house. he doesn’t even make it up the stairs to his bedroom this time. the second he’s inside the downstairs bathroom, he locks the door, yanks his pants down, and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock.

he strokes himself furiously, leaning against the sink, replaying the image of your tits spilling out of your top and the memory of you riding your boyfriend. it only takes him a minute before he cums hard again, biting his arm to stay quiet as thick ropes paint the sink.

panting, flushed, and still half-hard, satoru stares at his reflection. he knows he’s completely fucked. but he also knows he won’t stop until you finally see him the way he sees you. lucky him, it didn’t take long for the next opportunity to arise.

the next time you come over, it’s to help with groceries like always.

satoru’s mom is out running errands, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. you’re putting things away, humming softly, completely unaware of the way satoru is watching you. he’s done playing nice. the images from the garden and that night through the window have been burning in his brain for days. he’s tired of being “cute little satoru.”

you reach for the top shelf, standing on your tiptoes, trying to slide a heavy bag of rice into place and your shorts pull tight across your ass.

“here, let me help,” satoru says.

he steps right behind you before you can protest. his tall frame cages you against the counter, one arm reaching easily over your head to push the bag into place. but he doesn’t step back. instead, he presses forward, letting you feel every inch of his hard cock against your ass through his sweatpants.

you freeze. “satoru…?”

he doesn’t move away. if anything, he presses closer, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel how thick and heavy he is. his breath is hot against your ear.

“you feel that?” he murmurs. “that’s what you do to me. every time i see you. every time you smile at me like i’m still that little kid.”

his hands slide down to grip your waist, holding you in place as he grinds slowly against you. the hard line of his cock nestles perfectly between your cheeks, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“i’m not a kid anymore,” he continues, lips brushing your ear. “i’ve been jerking off to you for months. thinking about bending you over this counter and fucking you. thinking about how much better i’d be than that useless boyfriend of yours.”

you try to turn around, but he keeps you pinned, chest pressed to your back.

“satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not joking.” his voice drops even lower, more aggressive. one hand slides up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “i saw you riding him the other night. through your window. he couldn’t even make you cum properly, could he? i would. i’d fuck you so good.”

he rolls his hips again, letting you feel how hard he is, how big. his cock twitches against you, desperate and leaking.

“tell me to stop and i will,” he whispers, even as his grip tightens possessively. “but i think you feel it too. how much i want you. how much better i can make you feel.”

you’re breathing faster now, trapped between the counter and his tall, muscular body. satoru leans down, lips grazing your neck. “let me show you. just once. i’ll make you cum so many times you’ll be begging for more.”

you’re breathing faster now, trapped between the counter and his tall, muscular body. satoru doesn’t wait for a clear answer. he rolls his hips forward again, slower this time, deliberately dragging the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your thin shorts.

a shaky breath escapes you and he feels it—the way your body tenses then softens just a little. encouraged, he does it again, pressing harder, grinding his clothed cock between your cheeks in slow rolls. the friction is maddening. even through two layers of fabric, you can feel how hot and heavy he is, how big.

“satoru…” your voice comes out breathless.

“shh,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin. “just feel me.”

his hands tighten on your waist, holding you still as he starts dry humping you properly. long, deliberate thrusts that slide his hard length up and down between your ass cheeks. every roll makes your shorts ride up further, the fabric catching and pulling against your pussy. you can feel yourself getting wet, your body reacting even though your mind is still spinning.

satoru groans softly, forehead pressed to the back of your head. “fuck… you feel so good. been dreaming about this for so long.”

he picks up the pace a little, hips snapping forward with more urgency. the kitchen is quiet except for your shared heavy breathing and the faint rustle of clothes. you grip the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white, trying to steady yourself as heat pools low in your belly.

“you’re getting wet, aren’t you?” he whispers. one of his hands slides down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. “i can feel how warm you are. your body knows i’d be better.”

you bite your lip, a soft, involuntary whimper slipping out as he grinds particularly hard against you. the pressure on your clit through the fabric is driving you crazy. your breathing is turning faster, chest rising and falling quickly.

satoru notices immediately. a pleased sound rumbles in his chest.

“that’s it… getting breathless for me already?” he teases, but his voice is strained. he rolls his hips in a slow circle, pressing his cock right against your clothed entrance. “good girl. let me hear those pretty sounds.”

he keeps grinding harder, faster, like he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes. every thrust makes your tits bounce slightly and pulls another shaky breath from your lips. you’re starting to push back against him without thinking, chasing the friction.

satoru’s hand finally slips under your tank top, palm hot against your bare stomach.

“tell me to stop,” he rasps, lips against your neck, “or tell me to keep going. because if you don’t… i’m not gonna be able to hold back much longer.”

you’re panting now, head spinning, body burning under his aggressive touch. satoru keeps grinding against you like he’s possessed, cock throbbing against your ass, waiting for you to decide how far this is going to go.

“satoru… we can’t.” your fingers dig harder into the counter, knees feeling weak. “this is wrong… you’re—you’re basically still my—”

“we can,” he cuts you off. “we definitely can. and we’re going to.”

before you can protest again, his hand leaves your waist. you hear the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the sound of his zipper being dragged down. your heart hammers wildly as he frees his cock. it’s heavy and hot as it springs out, slapping against your ass cheek. he’s so hard it looks painful, the tip already leaking.

“feel what you do to me,” he murmurs, pressing the thick length against you again, this time with nothing but your thin shorts and panties between you.

his fingers hook into the side of your shorts and panties, tugging them just enough to the side. cool air hits your soaked pussy for a second before he slides his bare cock along your drenched folds. the hot, velvety length glides up and down your slick lips, parting them slightly with every slow stroke but never pushing inside.

you let out a broken whimper, forehead dropping against the cabinet door.

“fuck… you’re soaked,” satoru groans. he rocks his hips, sliding his cock repeatedly between your folds, coating himself in your wetness. the head catches on your clit with every pass, sending sparks shooting through you. “all this for me? and you still tried to say we can’t?”

he keeps the teasing motion going—long, deliberate slides from your entrance up to your clit and back down. every time the thick head nudges against your hole, you clench around nothing, aching to be filled. your breathing is ragged, little gasps and moans slipping out despite yourself.

satoru’s free hand comes back to your hip, holding you steady as he grinds his bare cock against your dripping pussy.

“see? we can. and it feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? just imagine how much better it’ll feel when i finally slide inside you.”

he presses forward a little harder, the head of his cock dipping just slightly against your entrance before sliding back up, teasing mercilessly. you’re trembling, breathless, torn between pushing him away and pushing back for more.

“tell me to stop… or tell me you want it. because i’m this close to bending you over and fucking you right here on the counter.”

finally, you break.

“…just the tip,” you whisper. “okay? just the tip, satoru. and don’t come inside me.”

the words barely leave your mouth before satoru groans like he’s been granted heaven. “fuck, yes. just the tip, baby. i promise.”

he lines himself up, the fat head of his cock pressing against your dripping entrance. he pushes forward slowly, and the stretch is immediate. only the tip slips inside you—just the swollen head breaching your tight walls. it’s enough to make both of you lose your minds.

“oh my god…” you gasp, fingers scrabbling against the counter. the feeling of him inside you, even just that little bit, is overwhelming. he’s so thick.

satoru’s forehead drops to your shoulder. “fuck… you’re so tight. so fucking warm. just the tip feels this good?”

he rocks his hips in tiny, shallow movements, fucking just the head in and out of you. every shallow thrust makes wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet kitchen. he doesn’t push any deeper, but the way he’s teasing your entrance is driving you insane. the constant stretch and release has your walls fluttering around his tip, trying to pull him in further.

“satoru…” you whimper, pushing back against him despite yourself.

“i know, i know,” he pants. “just the tip. i’m being good. but fuck, baby… you’re sucking me in. your pussy wants more, doesn’t it?”

he keeps it like this—shallow little thrusts that only give you the head, never more. it’s torture. for both of you. satoru’s hands grip your hips so tightly you know you’ll have bruises. his breathing is harsh against your neck as he fights every instinct to slam all the way in.

“you feel so perfect,” he groans, circling his hips so the head rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. “i could cum just like this.”

you’re moaning softly now, completely breathless, knees shaking. the denial is making everything more intense. every shallow thrust sends sparks through your body, but it’s not enough. you need more, but you’re scared to ask.

satoru’s control is hanging by a thread. his cock twitches inside you, leaking precum, and he has to bite back a whine. then his hands slide up under your tank top, pushing it up until your breasts spill free. he immediately gropes them, one large hand squeezing and kneading your soft tits while his thumbs flick over your hardened nipples.

“mmh— satoru…” you moan, pushing back against him desperately.

he chuckles against your neck, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you gasp. “what’s wrong, baby? your loser boyfriend doesn’t play with these pretty tits like this? doesn’t know how sensitive you are here?” he rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging them while still fucking you with only the tip of his cock. every shallow thrust makes you clench greedily around his head, but it’s never enough.

“bet he doesn’t even make you wet like this,” satoru says, voice dripping with arrogance as he squeezes your breasts harder. “bet he fucks you like a pathetic little boy and still can’t make you cum. that’s why you’re dripping down my cock right now, isn’t it?”

you whimper helplessly, forehead pressed against the cabinet, hips trying to push back to take more of him. but satoru keeps perfect control—only giving you the tip, no matter how much you beg with your body.

“say it,” he murmurs, biting your shoulder lightly while still playing with your tits. “tell me his dick isn’t enough for you. tell me you need mine.”

he punctuates his words with another shallow thrust, the head of his cock catching perfectly against that spot right at your entrance. your moan comes out broken and needy.

“satoru… please—”

“please what? please fuck you properly? or please keep teasing this desperate little pussy until you’re crying for me?” then, just to torture you more, satoru pushes in a little deeper—only an extra inch, but it’s enough.

you cry out sharply, the sudden stretch pulling a broken, needy sound from your throat. your body reacts on instinct, pushing back against him desperately, trying to take more of his thick cock.

“greedy girl… you said just the tip, but look at you pushing back like you want me to ruin you.”

he gives you another shallow thrust, still not going all the way in, but deeper than before. you whimper pathetically, hips rocking back against him again, chasing the feeling. your pussy clenches hard around him, dripping down his length.

“fuck, you really want it, don’t you?” he laughs breathlessly against your ear “you want your former babysitting kid to fuck you stupid—”

the front door suddenly swings open.

“satoru? i’m back early—”

his mom’s voice cuts through the air like ice water.

you both freeze.

satoru reacts instantly, pulling out of you and yanking your tank top back down to cover your chest. he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, heart hammering. you’re still pressed against the counter, legs shaking, face burning with embarrassment as you try to fix your shorts.

his mom stands in the doorway only seconds later, holding grocery bags, blinking at the two of you.

satoru clears his throat, somehow managing to sound almost normal. “hey mom. we were just… putting the groceries away.”

you nod quickly, too mortified to speak, cheeks flaming red. your thighs are still trembling, pussy aching from being left empty and dripping.

his mom narrows her eyes slightly, suspicious. “hm. well, don’t make a mess in here.”

she sets the bags down and walks further into the kitchen, completely unaware of how close she came to catching her son balls-deep inside you.

satoru glances at you, eyes still dark. he leans in close while his mom’s back is turned, whispering hotly against your ear: “this isn’t over. next time i’m not stopping until you’re creaming all over my cock.”

you shiver, pressing your thighs together as you try to calm your racing heart.

^ྀི𓈒 ⸝⸝ Toji Fushiguro

The first thing you feel is the deep, rattling vibration from his chest that sounds less like a snore and more like an idling truck. It’s loud and obnoxious. The kind of noise that should be annoying, but in the dark, it’s just the sound of him being home. Toji’s a literal furnace. You’re pressed against his side and it’s like laying next to a radiator left on high. Within twenty minutes, your shirt is sticking to your back and your skin is tacky with heat, but he’s already out cold.

Toji is incapable of just sleeping normally. He fights the bed. One second the heavy duvet is pulled up to his chin, and the next, he’s kicked it clear off the mattress because he’s overheating. You start to shiver the second the cold air hits, and even deep in sleep, he feels it. He’s got this instinct. A massive, heavy arm hooks under your ribs and drags you back into the heat. He tucks your head right under his chin, smelling like sweat and sleep.

"Don't move," he grumbles, the words thick and half-formed, a total lie because he’s the one moving. You take a chance and slide your ice-cold feet onto his calf. Most guys would jump, but Toji just exhales a hot breath against your hair. He actually shifts his leg to give you more surface area, letting you soak up the warmth like a stray cat.

He mumbles in his sleep, too. Not coherent sentences. Literally your name, over and over, followed by soft, dumb little sounds he’d never make if he were awake. Then, without warning, he gives a sudden, violent twitch of his leg that nearly sends you sliding off the edge of the bed. He catches you at the last second, pulling you back into the center of the pillows, arms locking around you like a vice. He’s a sweaty, loud, restless mess, but he’s your personal heater, and he isn't letting you go anywhere.

^ྀི𓈒 ⸝⸝ Geto Suguru

Sleeping with Suguru is like sleeping next to statue. It’s eerie. You wake up in the middle of the night and the room is so still you actually have to lean in, ear pressed to his chest, just to make sure his heart is still doing its job. No snoring. No whistling. Just this deep, heavy silence that feels like it’s swallowing the room. He’s the ultimate sleep-matsuo. If he goes down on his back with his fingers laced over his stomach, that’s exactly how you’ll find him eight hours later. Not a single wrinkle out of place on the sheets. It’s a little terrifying, honestly.

But he’s fair. Methodical, even in his sleep. He’s the only person you’ve ever met who makes sure the duvet is perfectly bisected—exactly 50% for you, 50% for him. No tug-of-war, no cold shoulders. If you move, he moves with you, his arm sliding around your waist in a slow, deliberate sweep that pulls you flush against him. He’s warm, but it’s a controlled heat.

The scary part is the hair-trigger. You could be dead to the world, but the second you let out a sharp breath—a whimper from a bad dream or even just a frustrated sigh because you can’t get comfortable—the silence snaps.

He doesn’t groggily wake up or rub his eyes. He’s just there. One second he’s a corpse, the next his eyes are open, dark and focused in the shadows. "I've got you," he’ll whisper, his voice smooth and instantly grounding, not a hint of sleep in it.

His hand will find the back of your neck, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin. He won't go back to sleep until he’s felt your heart rate level out, murmuring low, soft questions into the crown of your head until he’s sure the distress is gone. It’s domestic and safe, but there’s something intense about the way he watches over you, like he’s guarding your sleep as much as his own.

^ྀི𓈒 ⸝⸝ Gojo Satoru

Sleeping with Satoru is a test of patience. For a guy who’s supposed to be the strongest, he loses every ounce of dignity the second his head hits the pillow.

First off, the blankets and sheets. They’re his. All of them. He doesn’t even do it on purpose; he just subconsciously cocoons himself until he’s a giant, expensive silk burrito, leaving you shivering in the cold. When you try to yank a corner back, he just lets out this tiny, pathetic whine and pulls harder.

And the snoring? It’s not the house-shaking kind. It’s this high-pitched, rhythmic little whistle. Like a tea kettle that’s almost finished. It’s objectively adorable, which only makes it more frustrating when he starts drooling. Just a steady, silver leak right onto your collarbone because he insists on using your chest as a personal mattress. The worst part is that he’s a brick. You could set off a flashbang in the bedroom and this man wouldn’t blink. You’ve actually tried shoving him—hard—when he starts crowding your space, and he just rolls with the punch, mumbles something about "sweet treats," and settles right back down on top of you. A burglar could be dismantling the TV five feet away and Satoru would just keep whistling through his nose.

But then he wakes up. He lets out this long, dramatic stretch that nearly kicks you off the bed, and then comes the yawn. Scrunched-up nose, eyes watering, looking exactly like a pampered white cat that’s never had a hard day in its life. He’ll blink at you, all blurry-eyed and soft, and immediately bury his face back into your neck.

"Five more minutes," he’ll mutter, his voice all scratchy and sweet, squeezing you like a plushie. "Don't get up. You're comfy." He’s annoying, he’s a bed-hog, and you’re pretty sure there’s a wet spot on your shirt, but when he’s tucked into your side acting like the world’s biggest little spoon, it’s hard to actually stay mad.

He lets out a huff of a laugh then looks down at you with a lazy smirk. His chest’s rising and falling in a steady rhythm that mocks your ragged gasps. You’re throwing your entire weight into him, and it barely registers as a nuisance.

“Baby are you serious? A sumo wrestler? That’s harsh, I’m definitely more aerodynamic than that.” he murmurs, playfully whilst continuing to watch you struggle against his solid frame with a look of secret amusement. “C’mon. Put your back into it, I’m barely even trying y’know?”

He sounds too pleased with himself. Your brows pinch together, jaw tightening as your teeth grind in contained irritation. This was your idea, but your competitive streak is now insisting this was, in fact, a bad idea. Frankly, it’s the tone you can’t stand, speaks like he’s graciously humoring a toddler. You want to hurt him. Or, failing that, at least remind him that gravity is supposed to apply to him, too.

So, you move. You hook your arms around him, your legs following suit as you try to wrench the momentum and roll him. For a split second, he shifts—and there is hope—then his hand, massive and quick, snaps around your ankles mid-air and hope is fleeting.

He forces your legs up and back, folding you like a pretzel until your heels are practically tucked behind your ears. It’s a position you’ve been put in many times, but not outside of the bedroom. It makes your skin crawl with heat. You’re exposed, crotch pressed into his. Your tight athletic shorts cling to your puffy folds and offer zero protection from the pressure of him.

“Okay, Satoru, what the fuck?” you choke out, blood rushing to your head.

“Shit reflex,” he laughs, sending a vibration through your trapped body. His crystalline eyes are dark, tracing the way you’re pinned underneath him. “My bad, baby.”

“You’re a dick. Let go.”

Naturally, he ignores you entirely and does the opposite with an infuriating grin that has him looking way too attractive for someone being this much of a prick.

“How about in a couple seconds, hm?”, His grip on you tightens and he hitches his hips forward, growing cock rubbing right against your clothed-cunt, “She feels soft. Haven’t rubbed up on her like this in a while, miss it.”

You look up and his white hair’s disheveled from and there’s a deep flush on the tips of his ears. He’s so pretty. It sucks how that face lets him get away with being such a degenerate.

“Fine,” you breathe out, the word caught in your throat. “Just make it quick. My legs are gonna cramp if you keep me locked like this.”

You don’t need to tell him twice ‘cuz he’s already humping into your pussy like an animal in heat. His sweats are thick, but they do nothing to hide the rock-hard length of him. Each time he drives his hips home, he’s grazing your clit through the dampening layers. He’s got your pretty pussy leaking like a broken faucet—slick patch spreading on the fabric. Each blunt shove against your folds drags a broken, messy string of moans out of you that you can't even try to swallow.

“Shit, feels so good,” he groans into your ear, body getting heavier, slumping on top of you, “we…fuck—we should play fight more often. Yeah? How’s that sound?”

He presses his mouth against yours, tasting like fruity flavored gum and sweets. You’re swallowing his moans, your own breath hitching as he keeps up his bruising pace. Then one final, harsh shove and he goes rigid. His eyes go semi-wide, pupils blown out and unfocused, fixed on nothing as his brain shorts out. Before you realize there’s already a heavy dampness flooding the space between you, white stringy liquid soaking through the fabric of his sweats and bleeding right into your own clothes.

He doesn't move for a long minute, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, slowly, he lifts his head and lets out a long exhale, his chests heaving and his signature smirk replaced by a look of daze.

"Well," he rasps, a lazy, lopsided grin slowly pulling at his mouth. "Think I’ll give you the win on that one. Though, you're a mess, babe. Completely soaked."

He pulls back just an inch, cartoonishly blue eyes tracking the damp mess of your shorts, "Pretty sure you're gonna need a shower to get all that off you.” He pauses, smiling at you cat-like, “Want to go see if I can fit in there with you? I promise to help with the hard-to-reach spots."

+ another dry humping post act shocked. ty sichee 4 proofreading @ouist

"can you stand up for a second please?"

he makes a little face of confusion, but obeys nevertheless, standing up for you to look at the middle seam of his pants. you switch to lay on your tummy, pursing your lips and staring at his crotch. he frowns a little in confusion, eyes searching your face to pinpoint your line of sight. "what're you looking at?" he asks curiously, following your gaze down his body. you shush him, trying to focus. looks flat along the seam. you're impressed he'd get the biggest type. poor thing, he's probably shy about it too.

he finally notices you're looking at his dick and immediately blushes a dusky pink, not knowing whether to cover himself or step closer so you can look better. his cock gives an involuntary twitch as you stare at it too long, and that flatness quickly goes away as his dick bulges in his pants.

your eyes widen at the sheer size of him that the fabric doesn't hide well enough, and you look back up at his sweaty, blushing face. "your dick's hard, cho." your voice comes out coaxing. he nods a little, suppressing his nerves and moving forward a little. if you're checking him out like this, his interest in you might be mutual. "yeah, cause you're staring at it." he mumbles, standing right in front of where you're laying on the bed. by this point, his crotch isn't far from your face. you look up at him through your lashes, silently asking if he wants you to touch him. he bites his lip to stifle an overenthusiastic "touch me please," and nods quietly, watching as you slowly free his cock from the confines of his pants and boxers, and sure enough, he's as big as you analyzed him to be.

his fat cock hits your face on the way up and out of his boxers, resting against his tummy. the tip is flushed and swollen, and when your fingertips skim it, it gives a twitch, his balls squeezing up and pulsing as a dewy string of precum oozes out of the tip. he nearly blows his load right there when you pull him forward and take his big cock in your mouth, doing your absolute best to take it all in. you're both really glad you found that video.

satoru gojo

satoru has seen the video too, and has since been wearing articles of clothing that prevent you from catching his print because he wants to taunt you. you've been following him around ever since the video hit your timeline, really wanting to test your new knowledge on the person closest to you, but he wants to rile you up. "satoru please! i just want to look for a little bit, we don't ever have to talk about it again! i just want to test it out, and i don't want to do it on a stranger." you babble, chasing after him as he laughs and playfully pries you off him.

"you won't love me anymore if i'm an 'A'." he says teasingly, and you roll your eyes. "i don't care about your size, satoru, i just wanna see for a little bit! 's not even like i'll ever see the real thing anyway even though i want to."

he turns and faces you, looking down at you with an infuriatingly smug smirk. "fine, ill make you a deal." he grins, leaning down and getting in your face. "if you can get my print right on the first guess, i'll let you see my dick, kay? might even let you hold it in your pretty little hands. or more, if you're good."

your eyes light up, and you search your face, trying to see if he's teasing you or not. for once, he seems entirely serious despite that smug expression on his face. so you nod eagerly. he steps back, giving you enough room to analyze his dick print, and you hum thoughtfully, pursing your lips. he'd jokingly said he was an 'A' earlier, so you highly doubt that he's really that shape. he likes to lie and tease you quite a bit.

but you don't see a bulge along the lower part of the mid-seam either, and when you try to analyze him from the side, you just see the long, flat shape between his thighs, indicating he's the biggest size. "D?" you ask hopefully, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes.

he laughs loudly at your guess. it's clear that you're pretty sure of yourself too, and you're right, of course. and that means you get your reward.

he tugs you somewhere private. "see for yourself," he says, unzipping his pants intentionally slow and letting his cock free. it's nothing like anything you've ever seen, pale at the base, a darker pink up top, with a flared head and a thick, veiny shaft. "you got it up from staring at it so much. guess he likes having your attention." he teases, backing you into a table and lifting you up on top of it.

he's glad you wore a skirt today, and flips it up easily, tugging your panties to the side and using it as an anchor to keep you in place while he rubs his dick between your soft pussy lips and against your folds, getting nice and slick and ready to take his cock.

you did not expect your reward to be this good.

kento nanami

trying to find out how big your boss’s dick is during the annual holiday party isn’t one of your brightest ideas, but you cant help yourself. the timing is just perfect. the contract of your internship ends on new years, and you cant just stare at his cock while you’re enduring your final week or so of work. the amount of alcohol in your system ha emboldened you to approach kento head on, standing in the circle he’s formed around a few of his employees. your gaze zeroes in on his crotch and you squint to analyze his print in the dim lighting.

he notices your gaze glued to him after a few moments more of his conversation. his eyes have always found you in crowded rooms since you started interning at his office, though he's not sure why. it may full well just be that he appreciates a pretty face, but it must be more than that, considering how much you distracted him every day at work.

he tries to see what part of his body your gaze is pinpointed on, looking down at you and tracing your gaze down to his bulge through his slacks. he grunts softly and coughs into his fist to stifle the noise, wanting to know why you're looking so intently at his cock. the longer you look, the more it starts to strain in his pants and twitching.

you're still trying to figure out his size when you feel him start to steer you away from the crowd, into the empty men's washroom, where he crowds you in a stall. you gasp and stare up at him, hands instinctively finding his shoulders at the same time your back hits the wall with a soft thud. kento has a strange expression on his face, flustered and bothered at the same time. he mumbles your name. "what were you looking at just now?"

your eyes meet his and you gnaw on your lower lip nervously. on one hand, you're ashamed you got caught, but on the other, you hadn't been that subtle. and now that your senior caught you leering at him, you can only expect him to be disgusted with you. you can kiss the last few days of your contract and a reference letter goodbye. "um... i was trying to uh- see your... your thing through your pants."

he lets out a huff of air and squeezes you, pressing his body firmly against yours so your breasts are squished against his chest. "why?"

"i just saw this video online about doing it to guys you like," you say quickly, your voice coming out rushed as the truth spills out of you. "and i thought s-since i'd never see you again, it'd be fine to do it to you."

he frowns at your revelation. "you don't plan on seeing me ever again?" there's actual hurt in his expression, and you immediately feel guilty. you hadn't expected him to care to spend time with you outside work, and you're also surprised that he doesn't seem mad in the slightest at you.

he pushes his chubbed bulge between your legs, letting you feel his size rather than just looking at it. "i'd rather you ask me for something rather than being deceitful about it." he says softly. and before you can respond, he slots his mouth onto yours, catching you off guard with an open mouthed kiss.

"mh!" you moan softly into his mouth, his big tongue taking place in your mouth and swirling around yours hotly. it feels like you're melting. stuffed in a tiny space with your gorgeous boss and making out slow and sloppy. you didn't think it could get any better until he starts rolling his bulge between your thighs, humping you slow and firm right at your core where your puffy pussy lips rub against him through your panties - you're only wearing a skirt. "what size do i feel like, hm?" he says into your mouth, lips wrapped around yours and tongue taking domination and tasting, scoping your mouth.

"a... a D..."

hiromi higuruma

you've been studying with your law school buddy the last few hours in the empty library, feeling exhausted and drained by the infuriating amount of reading you've been assigned. it's all fair game for the test on wednesday, and you're not even halfway in and it's midnight. hiromi looks up at you with his brow lifted, shaking his head slowly as an indication for you not to give up.

"let's divide it up and make notes on our parts. then we can put it together and work from there." he says, his voice reassuring. he offers you a small smile, and you fight the urge to just grab at him. hiromi's been your anchor since you started law school; always checking up on you, bringing you breakfast and your morning drink, walking you to lectures and carrying your things. his presence is so calming, and he's just so tall ad handsome... you'd be crazy to not catch feelings at some point.

and now you're pent up from studying so long, and what would be better than having a little fun to unwind? it'd be so fun to try and guess how big your study buddy is. just for a quick second, then you can go back to keeping a respectful, platonic distance. it wouldn't be any different morally than the time you asked him to bring you a towel when you were showering in his apartment, and he'd peeked at your soapy, wet body through his fingers. you caught him, but never said anything.

because now you can get your revenge.

you make a show of dropping your pen out of your hand and cursing. he immediately looks up at you, making a move to grab it for you, but you shake your head. "its okay, hiro. i got it." you get down on your hands and knees under the table and forget all about the pen for the time being, focusing on staring at how his bulge is aligned in his pants. he's sitting pretty straight, so it only slightly more difficult to see compared to if he were standing.

you don't realize that you're down there a while, as he asks, "you okay down there?"

you huff, not wanting to be interrupted with your time with his dick, but somehow, he knows what you're doing, he's so perceptive, and nudges your ass forward with his foot. you end up tipping forward, face first into his bulge. he huffs and looks down at you slightly. "what're you looking at that for?" he asks softly, his voice coming out amused.

you babble random apologies and try to come up with a shitty explanation, but he beats you to it and takes some of your hair into his hand. "do you just wanna look or do more?"

you practically gasp out the latter, and he grins and slowly unzips his pants, tugging his cock free out of the confines of his trousers. your first impression of it is that it's fat and heavy. when you scoop it up in your hand, it's weighty in your palm, and when you place your thumb in the slit and rub back and forth, he gasps and leaks a bit of pearly fluid onto your fingers.

the little hungry kitten licks and squeezes you give his cock are enough to have him hardening quickly, and as his length and firmness increases, you get more eager with your motions and start licking from base to tip, taking the head of his cock into your warm, wet mouth and stroking the bottom half that you can't fit down your throat. he's much too big anyway. you were sure he'd be in the 'b' range, but with how much his cock has swollen up and grown in your mouth and hands, well.

his dick is in a league of its own.

toji fushiguro

you've been nagging toji to pay his share of the rent all day, and he keeps brushing you off and telling you he'll get it when he can. but he's already used that line on you enough times for you to know its bullshit.

as you're following him and grabbing onto his arm, trying to get him to listen to you, but as you're jostling around with him, he accidentally ends up brushing his thick cock against your hip. immediately, you're caught off guard how big it felt. long, heavy between his legs.

you whip around, trying to figure out if what you felt really was real and not a figment of your imagination, and you use your knowledge about reading prints to try and discern his size through his pants.

your eyes zero in on his crotch, and you use your quick analysis to see the flat, long shape, no bulge along the seam, indicating that he's got the biggest size possible. your face warms and you look up at him in disbelief. he's just holding you in place, staring at your facial expression as you realize how big he is. "see somethin' y'like?" he asks gruffly, glad he's distracted you from bills.

you swallow thickly, looking up at him with hooded eyes while he backs you into the counter, towering over you and caging you in place with his arms on either side of you. "or did you feel it?"

you mumble his name in warning, your voice coming out pitifully needy and soft, and he laughs softly, tipping your chin up so you can't break eye contact. "would you let me off one more time if i give it t'ya?" he grins, swiping his rough thumb over your soft lower lip, the motion doing numbers on your brain.

you can worry about bills later, for sure. right now you wanna feel him inside you.

you let him pull your flimsy shorts and panties to the side, whining when he comments about how wet you are already. "have you been walkin' around after me all this time with your pussy this messy?" he mocks you, taking out his dick and placing it against your puffy folds. it's so heavy and thick, and when he slaps the tip a few times against your clit, pre-cum splurts out and adds to the mess dripping down your thighs.

you nod dumbly, looking up at him so you don't have to see him splitting you open on his dick as he slowly pushes forwards. he groans softly at your expression, and the two of you look at each other as it goes in. he can't help but slip a thumb in your mouth as he does, thinking you look so pretty with your mouth and pussy stuffed with him at the same time.

see more in my jjk masterlist

he just stares at you for a moment, clearly debating whether to laugh it off or obey. but something in your expression must have convinced him, because he slowly begins unbuttoning his shirt, mentally succumbing himself to your whims.

"baby, are you serious..?" he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt to reveal his lean, muscular torso.

"oh, absolutely." you confirm with a sadistic smile. you pick up the toy, turning it over in your hands. "since you like this thing so much, let's see how you handle it when I'm in control."

his pants and boxers follow the growing pile of clothes discarded onto the floor, and despite his apparent nervousness, his cock was already half-hard, responding to the authority in your voice. he climbs onto the bed, and you could see the slight tremor in his hands—from anticipation or apprehension, you weren't sure.

"on your back," you instruct. "hands above your head."

satoru complies like clockwork, sprawling across the mattress with his arms stretched overhead. his cock twitches against his stomach, and you notice how his breathing has already quickened exponentially. cocky gojo satoru, already reduced to a helpless puddle at your feet.

you retrieve the lube from the nightstand, warming it between your palms as you kneel beside him. his eyes track your every movement, pupils dilated with sheer want.

noticing the confused anticipation swirling in his eyes, you clarify, "I'm going to use your little toy on you. and you're going to take it. but you don't get to come—not until I decide you've learned your lesson."

"baby, come on—" he starts, but cuts off with a sharp inhale as you wrapped your lubed hand around his now fully erect cock, stroking slowly.

"no," you whisper firmly. "you wanted to use this instead of me. so now you get to experience exactly what you chose."

you release him, and he makes a small sound of protest that dies in his throat when you bring the toy to his tip. his hips jerk involuntarily as you press it down, enveloping him in the tight, slick silicone.

"f-fuuck," gojo breathes, his hands clenching into fists above his head.

you work the toy slowly down his length, watching his face contort with pleasure. his usual composure was already cracking, lips parted and breath coming in faster. when you reach the base of his shaft, you pause, letting him feel the full sensation.

"feel good?" you ask, voice dripping with false sweetness.

"yes," he gasps. "god, yes, but—"

you begin moving the toy again, establishing a steady rhythm that has his back arching off the bed. up and down, twisting slightly on each stroke, you work him with practiced precision—except with silicon instead of the familiarity of your palm. his cock is flushed and leaking, and you can feel him throbbing inside the toy.

"but what?" you prompt, slowing your movements.

"but I ngh.. want you," he admits, his voice strained. "not.. f-fuck.. this.. I want you."

"should have thought of that before." you smile, increasing your pace, revelling in the way his whole body tenses in response. you can see it building—the way his abs clench, how his toes curl, the desperate way his hips patheticallu start to thrust up into the toy.

just as he approaches the edge, you stop completely, pulling the toy away.

"no!—" the word bursts from him desperately. "—p-please, I was so so close.."

"I know," you reply calmly, watching his cock pulse and twitch in the air, denied its release. "that's the point, 'toru."

his chest heaves as he struggles to regain control, a light sheen of sweat already forming on his skin. those blue eyes fix on you, pleading.

"please," he tries again. "I-I'm—fuck!—sorry, okay? I shouldn't have—"

"shouldn't have what?" you trail your fingers up his inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where he needed you most.

"sh-shouldn't have used it," he pants. "shouldn't have ever chosen it—hnng—over you. just please... I need you to touch me.

"but I am touching you?" you bring the toy back up, pressing it against his sensitive tip. he whimpers—actually whimpers—at the contact. "isn't this what you wanted?"

before he could answer, you plunge the toy down his length again, faster this time. satoru's head thrashes against the pillow, white hair splaying across the fabric as pleasure overwhelms him.

"oh fuck, oh fuuuck, please—" his words dissolve into incoherent moans as you work him ruthlessly toward another peak.

you watch him climb higher, his entire body drawn tight as a bowstring. his hands have moved from above his head, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white. just as his cock begins to pulse with the telltale signs of orgasm, you stopped again.

"what do you need?" you ask, setting the toy aside and running your hand up his trembling thigh.

"you," he gasps immediately. "n-need you, baby. your hand, your mouth, your pussy—anything. only you, just you, please."

"not the toy?"

"fuck the toy!" his composure has completely shattered now, your husband reduced to a begging, desperate mess. "I don't want it. I want you. only you. please, baby, pleasee—"

you let him suffer for another moment, watching precum leak steadily from his tip, his cock so hard it looks almost painful. then you wrap your hand around him, and he nearly sobs with relief.

"thank you," he breathes. "thank you, fuck, thank you—"

but you keep your strokes slow, torturous, maintaining him right on that knife's edge without letting him tip over. his hips roll, trying to fuck into your fist, but you pull back whenever he gets too eager.

"tell me again—" you command. "—why do you need me?"

"because nothing else compares," he pants, words tumbling out desperately. "because you're perfect, and I'm an idiot, and I need you more than air—please, please let me come. I'll never use it again, I'll blast it into smithereens, I swear, just please—"

you pick up the toy again with your free hand, and his eyes widen in panic.

"no, nonono wait—"

"shh." you position it at his base while your other hand works his leaky tip. "I want you to come like this. feeling both. understanding the difference."

you work him with both the toy and your hand, creating an overwhelming combination of sensations. satoru was completely gone now, reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath you, begging continuously.

"please, p-please, I need it, need you, so close, please let me—"

"come," you command. "come for me, 'toru."

permission granted, his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave. his back arches completely off the bed, every muscle in his body going rigid as he comes harder than you've ever seen. ropes of cum paints his stomach and chest as he cries out your name, the sound broken and ecstatic and utterly yours.

you work him through it, both toy and hand moving in tandem until he was gasping, oversensitive and trembling with aftershocks. only then did you release him, setting the toy aside and running your clean hand soothingly over his heaving chest.

"holy fuck," he breathes, throwing an arm over his eyes. "that was..."

"a pretty neat punishment, huh?" you finish for him, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. "did you learn your lesson?"

he lowers his arm, those blue eyes now soft and sated as they meet yours. "yeah," he says quietly and contently. "I learned that I'm a fucking idiot for ever thinking I could ever hide anything from you."

"good." you kiss him properly this time. when you pull back, you pick up the toy one last time. "so we can throw this away?"

"yes. god, yes. please." he watches as you toss it towards the trash bin. "I never want to see that thing again. you're all I need, baby. all I want."

you settle beside him, and he immediately pulls you close, still trembling slightly. "though I do have to admit," he murmurs against your hair, "that was the best punishment I've ever received."

"don't get any ideas," you warn with a smile. "this was a one-time thing."

"a one time thing, huh?" he quips devilishly, "but baby, don't you happen to own a rose toy?"

a/n: @princeable the kids miss you baby please come back home🙏🙏🙏

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