🌻Hollis🌻

Your sleep-fogged brain hardly registers the soft, warm kisses on your neck. The soft brushes of affection that can only be from your Kento. His lips are feather-light on the expanse of your warm neck from staying spooned in his arms all night long.

“Kento,” you half-heartedly protest, yet your neck tilts back on his strong shoulder.

Your words fall deaf to his ears. His mouth trails up your sensitive neck with pecks as light as feathers. Breath hot and heavy on your ear, chest firm and rising rapidly, pressing against your back as calloused hands from years of fighting curse touch and map out your body from under your, or his shirt, he should say.

“S’too early,” you haven’t opened your eyes properly yet, and he’s hard as a rock before you can wake fully. You can choose to stop him with a simple no, but why bother? It’s his day off; he deserves this morning’s gratification.

He hums, the vibrations on your skin rising goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s never too early.”

He palms both your breasts, weighing the soft mounds, tentatively squeezing and massaging them as his kisses descend further up your face to find your lips in a messy kiss. 

Your tongues tangle in a soft, unrushed exchange of saliva. You sigh, pushing his head closer to your face as the kiss deepens. You wiggle and grind your ass on his morning wood. His thin pajama pants don’t shield his throbbing self beneath the cotton. 

Your lips curl upward when he groans. A hand shoots out from under your shirt to your still hips.

“Dirty girl,” he teases the waistband of your pink panties, his favorite color on you, pulling it and letting it snap back on your skin.

“You started it first.” In response, you push his head into another kiss. You lift your leg, giving him better access to dip into the lace. 

He picks up on it, lifting your thigh while his other hand sneaks to circle your little puffy clit through your panties, teasing you a little more before finally making actual contact.

You’re so soaked so early all because of a few kisses and touches. He gathers slick from your wet pussy, slathering up his fingers for smoother tight circles that have your hips bucking towards him.

“Ken,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. Your breathing picks up, face flushed and thighs trembling as your climax impends. Such a pretty sight he wishes he could encapsulate forever.

He groans, head looking down at where he’s touching. The rhythmic motion of his technique has you both in a trance. The more he does it, the more you whimper and tremble.

“Hold it for me.” He pulls away abruptly, patting your hips to move so you could fully take off the offending piece of clothing.

You whine softly at the sudden loss but comply nonetheless. 

“We do have all morning.” He whispers reassuringly, his voice groggy and deep from being half awake himself.

He pulls himself out, his hot cock heavy and flushed a pretty shade of red. He strokes himself absently a few times, then aligns to your messy lips.

“Breathe f’me.” He grunts as he pushes in, a hand coming down to press against your stomach to steady you.

You whimper weakly, walls fluttering at the sudden intrusion. He’s so big you sometimes don’t know how to take it after all this time. 

He kisses away the tears pricking on your eyes, distracting you from the burning stretch.

“Good girl. You’ve got it.” He rocks back and forth gently, still spooning you from behind. Nanami’s eyebrows are furrowed in pure concentration and arousal. 

He pushes through all the way in after a minute of slow thrusts, his length prodding and poking every spot inside of you that has you twitching with each shift of his hips, 

“Ken,” you whine again, pushing back on him.

“I know.”

He pulls all the way out just enough for his tip to stay in, then slams back in with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

He picks up a slow, lazy pace, his fingers finding their way to your clit again. You moan softly into his mouth as you kiss once more.

The room is filled with soft plops and wet fwaps of skin hitting skin. You share gasps and groans as both knots in your lower stomach tighten.

He fucks into you a few more times, his pace picking up on your clit to make you see white first before anything else.

You cum hard, legs trembling and eyes rolling back to your skull. He follows behind you, a low, drawn-out groan leaving his mouth as he fills you up to the brim.

nothing better than aggressively loving a doomed-by-the-narrative f/o.

oh, the plot says you'll never receive the happiness you deserve? that's too bad. we're in a loving relationship now. i'm gonna spend every day reminding you how perfect you are. we're gonna grow old together. sorry not sorry.

Audio: A recording of Leonard Nimoy reading it on Internet Archive.

Text: A PDF version.

Nemoy’s voice is PERFECT in this!

Sukuna’s developed an irritating habit. Whenever he’s fed up with you, or whenever he doesn’t want to entertain one of your questions, he’ll simply stay quiet and gesture towards his stomach. It’s kind of like saying ‘talk to the hand’. But in his case, it’s ‘talk to the stomach mouth’. 

Then his stomach mouth will shoot you this wide, smug grin, like it’s more than happy to converse with you. And you’ll just toss up your hands and groan, annoyed that your husband won’t even bother to speak with you face to face. 

But recently you've taken Sukuna up on his offer, turning the tables to give him the silent treatment while still chatting away with his stomach. Because Sukuna underestimated just how much that mouth of his likes to rile someone up. Even if it’s the rest of his body. 

Now, Sukuna’s lounging on the bed, limbs draped carelessly along the mattress. He’s trying to feign indifference. Trying to pretend he’s unphased by the fact that you haven’t spoken to him in four whole days. 

But you know better. You see the slight clench in his jaw, the scowl that deepens on his face each time he steals a look your way. He watches as you sit by the window, gazing at the scenery outside. 

When the silence stretches on longer than he can bear, Sukuna sets his pride aside to clear his throat and ask, “Are you still doing this?” 

You don’t even spare him a glance, continuing to look out the window. “Middle Mouth,” you say, “will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I have no idea what he’s talking about?”

Sukuna scoffs in disbelief, but that mouth of his flashes its teeth and singsongs, “Sukunaaaa. She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I heard you,” Sukuna huffs, speaking to you instead of his stomach.

He hates this whole situation. Hates that you're not speaking with him. Hates that you’ve given his stomach mouth a nickname. And he hates that the mouth is entertaining it at all. 

 His jaw clenches once more, and he sighs before saying, “You’re ignoring me.” 

He’s not wrong. For almost a week, you’ve been avoiding your husband, refusing to interact or even look at any part of him other than his stomach maw. But despite all of his sulking and sour moods, you act as if nothing is amiss.

“Middle Mouth, will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I am not ignoring him. You and I just had a lovely conversation, didn’t we?”

“Sukunaaaa,” the mouth singsongs again. “She isn’t ignoring you…well, me.” That grin returns, and you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Why didn’t you start speaking with your husband’s stomach mouth sooner? He really is entertaining.

“Stop that. Don’t humor her,” Sukuna scolds.

“Middle Mouth, you can converse with me as you please.”

“I intend to,” his maw replies. 

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, but he’s not sure whether to direct his glare at you or his abdomen. “How long do you intend to keep up these antics?”

You brush an imaginary piece of lint from your clothes and say, "Middle Mouth, please inform the rest of Sukuna that I’m still waiting on a proper apology from him." 

“I’m warning you, do not–”

“Sukunaaaa. She is waiting for a proper apology from you.”

Sukuna stares murderously down at his lower half. He’s finally met his match. The only ‘enemy’ that he can’t silence by force. Himself. 

And secretly, you think that he slightly enjoys that you’re speaking with his stomach mouth. It shows him that despite this silent treatment, you still desire some form of communication with him. 

So he’ll put up with the teasing, the inside jokes, and the fact that his wife is being stolen by his own body.

You decide to press your luck a little bit further, and say something you know will send your husband over the edge. “Middle Mouth–”

“Not again,” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back.

“Do you remember what I told you? What we talked about last night?”

“What?!?" Sukuna demands, sitting up abruptly and sending the covers around him flying.

“Oh, I remember,” his maw says, immediately grinning and playing into it. 

“Well, I was thinking about it and–”

“Why are you speaking with my wife at night?”

“Our wife. And what we discuss during late hours does not concern you.” 

“Anyways, as I was telling you, Middle Mouth, before I was rudely interrupted–”

“No. This ends now."

In seconds, Sukuna’s beside you, all 7 feet of him towering over you intimidatingly. He rubs a hand across his jaw, like he has to physically force the words out of his mouth. “I.. apologize for not answering when you asked me which of my cocks I urinate from.”

“…”

“The answer is both of them.”

Immediately, your mood lifts. You turn away from the window, smiling and facing your husband like nothing was ever wrong. “Apology accepted.” And then to his stomach mouth, “We’ll continue our conversation later.” 

and like!! that's paydirt baby! that's character! and THEN, you not only get to create a version of her that's more than .05 inches thick (and resonates so much more imo to the actual fat female experience), you ALSO get to write HIM reacting to it in a much more grounded way. with like soft sadness, probably, at how the world has made her feel about herself, his heart hurting a bit at seeing that she's skeptical of him and baring her teeth a little. and him like, vowing to himself that he'll prove it to her - he'll show her how he really sees her, over time, if she'll let him. like him communicating THAT? like earnestly seeing her pain from the past and wanting to hold it and her? that is so much more healing for me as a fat person than being shown "see! a hot man is attracted to her! doesn't that feel good??? do you feel empowered now???"

need help taste testing a new recipe? deans on it. can’t figure out what’s missing from what you’re cooking? cas is trying it and telling you what you should add and the exact amount. made a pie? dean an cas are fighting like alley cats trying to get the first bite

Dean would NEVER hit his husband....but that's his motherfucking pie.

Back. Off.

Okay but Dean would be ALL over you constantly. He's looping his arm around your waist and pressing up close to you from behind, voice like honey in your ear.

"Hiya Sunshine" He'd press a little kiss to your neck "Somethin' smells good"

"It's not ready yet Dean, try grinding on me in another ten minutes"

He gets all sulky and pouty and walks away, only for Cas to come in a few minutes later.

"My love, what did you say to Dean?"

"Just that dinner'll be ready in a few, why? Is he sulking in his cave again?"

"Yes, he even refuses to watch the talking dog show"

"Scooy-Doo"

"Bless you"

"What?"

"How much longer do you think it will be?"

"Just about ready" You got an idea, raising your voice significantly "Too bad Dean isn't here, you'll just have to test the roast, Cas!"

He was through the door in seconds, out of breath.

"I'm surprised there isn't a you shaped hole in that door" You chuckled, handing Dean a fork with a chunk of the juiciest looking meat he might've ever seen on it.

"Why would there be a whole in the door?" Castiel asked, setting out the plates.

"It's a Scooby-Doo thing"

"Bless you. Are you catching a cold?"

"Angel-"

"Later" Dean almost growled, clearly starved for both food and attention.