NO MORE HIATUS

“seriously, baby. you’re killing me. ‘m trying to be good, but you’re making it so hard. making me so hard.”

the chirpy, upward inflection in satoru’s voice was at odds with the underlying desperation. with your ass hovering mere inches above his face, your view was restricted to the expanse of his chest and lower regions—but you could imagine those iridescent baby blues and the jut of his pout all too well. what you could see, however, was how violently hard he was: the conspicuous bulge straining against his slacks; metal hardware fighting a losing battle against the sheer scale of his arousal.

“you know i hate being teased… meanie.”

rich, coming from the biggest tease ever. but again, your boyfriend was always such a whiny baby in bed. with your palms braced against his pecs, you could feel the frantic pitter-patter of his heart. despite knowing you held all the power, you were still unable to bring yourself to commit to the descent.

“i... but what if,” you stammered, hamstrings burning from the effort of hovering. “what if i break your nose? i don’t—”

“reverse cursed technique, remember?” as if to underscore his eagerness, satoru blew a sharp, hot jet of air directly against your clit. the sudden stimulus had an undignified squawk escaping your throat.

typical satoru. prioritising his sweet tooth literally minutes away from the greatest battle in jujutsu history. you shake your head, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips as you hand over the device. he taps away furiously for a minute, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, before handing it back with a wink.

-

fast forward to your birthday.

your phone buzzes. it’s a scheduled text from your calendar:

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my favorite person in the entire world !!!! i love you so much. my baby girl (^_^)”

the bright text begins to blur into ugly neon dots as tears hit the glass. you try to wipe the screen, but the moisture keeps coming, smearing his words until you finally just give up. you wish with everything left in you that he was actually here to say it to your face, wearing that stupid, beautiful smile.

“seriously, baby. you’re killing me. ‘m trying to be good, but you’re making it so hard. making me so hard.”

the chirpy, upward inflection in satoru’s voice was at odds with the underlying desperation. with your ass hovering mere inches above his face, your view was restricted to the expanse of his chest and lower regions—but you could imagine those iridescent baby blues and the jut of his pout all too well. what you could see, however, was how violently hard he was: the conspicuous bulge straining against his slacks; metal hardware fighting a losing battle against the sheer scale of his arousal.

“you know i hate being teased… meanie.”

rich, coming from the biggest tease ever. but again, your boyfriend was always such a whiny baby in bed. with your palms braced against his pecs, you could feel the frantic pitter-patter of his heart. despite knowing you held all the power, you were still unable to bring yourself to commit to the descent.

“i... but what if,” you stammered, hamstrings burning from the effort of hovering. “what if i break your nose? i don’t—”

“reverse cursed technique, remember?” as if to underscore his eagerness, satoru blew a sharp, hot jet of air directly against your clit. the sudden stimulus had an undignified squawk escaping your throat.