#geto x reader

The sound naturally makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap at your screen to bring the ongoing call to the forefront of it.

You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too husky, “Fuck,” that has you smiling to yourself a little. It was in times like this that you felt your ego growing in size.

Especially as you hear him grunting like he were trying to keep his sounds in.

But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep talkin’, doll,” Toji orders.

There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, catching the way he sighs heavily in initial response.

On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out, the fat heat of his dick squeezed in between his palm, and thick wads of sweat built up along his forehead. He'd been at it for a minute before you'd caught on.

Toji tosses his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name. Huffing, “What?” as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.

Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes him grunt, “You okay over there? You sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.

“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now—that big hand of his wrapped around his poor, leaky cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.

You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear just about everything. The sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to do for him, his hand slicks up 'n down his length in quicker pulls due to the saliva and precum mixing together.

“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants shortly, forcing himself to slow his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d you stop? Hm?”

“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”

Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask. “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.

“Riiiight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”

“Yeah? And what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.

You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today but I got lucky since they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.

Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?

Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth. You knew what you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.

Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”

“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.

Your voice had softened by a lot and was driving him insane. That clearly false innocence wrapped itself into your question and it had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what you were even asking him.

Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.

You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”

“Yeah, you do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.

As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something all the more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Tell me.”

“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”

The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”

You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”

And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching—damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he'd let it slide for now.

“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.

“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”

His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum thinking about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.

And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being. How could he not picture you on your knees, taking his cock into your mouth all sloppily whilst he fucks that gorgeous face of yours just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?

Then you just kept going, “…Or just from me talking? Do you like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.

He’s on his end just nodding as as if you could see him. What an idiot. “Yes, shit… You know I fuckin’ love your voice, baby,” Toji tells you.

God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, his tip all flushed over 'n drooling from your every word, large thighs trembling as he gets closer and closer to making one stupid mess of himself.

“C’mon then big guy, cum for me so you can come over,” You purr.

Just then Toji has to squeeze his eyes shut and he almost chokes. “It's late, doll,” He argues.

You tut, “Yeah well listening to you jerk off turned me on, so now you’ve gotta come over and deal with it.”

Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…

Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be over in ten.”

You snicker, “Make it five.”

He swears you’ll be the death of him.

Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”

“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.

He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”

You smile, “Come shut me up.”

“Oh I’m about to.”

☆ Geto Suguru

Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties—Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.

He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this, so he just settles for the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.

Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off, other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the little O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.

His hand is set nice ‘n sturdy around his deft base as he drags your lack up and down his slobbered skin. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours and hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.

“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue—relishing in the distant memory of how sweet how tasted and how addicting you are.

Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk his cock for all it’s worth? Well, yes.

Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.

Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it—the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.

Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.

Oh, the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.

And he’s so close as he thinks about it more—picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-

“Suguru?” The sudden sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.

Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.

You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago yet, here you were—standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.

You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”

“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.

Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.

“That’s filthy, Sugu,” You whisper carefully.

The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.

Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me.” You utter.

He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I just needed your panties.”

You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.

“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, that’s me, princess. Keep telling me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.

You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”

“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingering yourself to my voice last week.”

You gulp, “T-That was…”

He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.

Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.

His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him, and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.

“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, his voice a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now, are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are you gonna get on your knees and take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.

You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you scoff, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”

He huffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”

“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”

He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”

“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy—looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him, and your hand set low near his cock.

Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watching you before I said something?”

“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch sooooo badly. If anything, you were too close to not be all over him right now, and it’s simply unfair how his restraint was waning by the second.

“A few minutes. I saw you putting my panties to your nose and everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.

You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”

“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said something, right? Cause you like watching me like this? You like seeing me slut myself out to the thought of you.”

Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.

Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.

The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”

☆ Gojo Satoru

You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around, but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person—he sends you a video.

Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins and a pretty pinkish tip twitching for some attention—you’re left to stare at the bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.

“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” His tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and swallow thickly. Thank god for your headphones—despite being home alone—because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”

Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”

“Got’ this hard thinking about you,” Gojo whispers, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.

Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand—how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his sticky tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead to push at the translucent slick building up there, and how he lets out a hiss in response.

Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touching me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leaving you for work…”

You snicker lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you—his cock is so looong and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).

Your thighs squeeze together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.

And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.

You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.

Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“

“Knowing you’re watching that video isn’t enough for me,” Gojo huffs out, his camera now propped up for you so you can see most of his body.

His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, and his legs are spread far ‘n wide—erect and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand hauls his palm up and down. Gojo’s got his head thrown back and you have the clearest view of his glistening Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down from it and to his chest.

He’s panting all crazy-like, his hand fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.

You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“

“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.

“Spread yourself apart for me, baby,” Gojo groans out. You’re following his every word as you part your legs wider and move two fingers to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.

“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.

You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juust like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss being inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet you are for me and I’m not even there, shit.”

You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”

“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “You liked watching me jerk off?”

His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.

“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.

“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak for me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “Does my voice get you like this too?”

You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.

“Aww, babyyy,” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers trying to please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”

“Hahh, need you too, sweetheart.” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.

Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.

You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”

“M’gonna get home and fuck you nice 'n full, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.

Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah?" Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get you pregnant so I have an excuse not to leave you like this.”

Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cumming inside you, fuckin’ you dumb, watching you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.

“T-Toru,” You whine for him—missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.

“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it, pretty girl.”

You’re nodding, he’s nodding—both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.

“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers—the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.

Fuck, he needed to get home soon.

☆ Nanami Kento

You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.

“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.

With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His bulky thighs parted like some slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.

Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this—his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.

Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.

But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.

Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.

He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way—thinking of fucking you til’ you’re making so much noise that he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth just to shut you up.

“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.

His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.

“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.

“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.

You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“

“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”

“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“

Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”

You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”

You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.

“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.

Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white—cum peeping out from his plump, sweltering tip and making you swallow thickly.

You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”

His response is instant, “God, yes.”

“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”

Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”

You tease, “Anywhere?”

“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.

Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.

“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“

Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his dick tighter.

“Shit,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.

“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.

Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.

You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”

“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it—he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.

Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Making suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”

“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.

“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”

His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.

“Yeah?” He hushes out.

Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.

It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.

You gulp, “Sir, I-“

He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”

Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.

The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.

Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”

You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”

He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”

perm multi tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @blubearxy

@wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke

@kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @riameriash @arminseas2 @palanggaaa

@cherslop @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui @remscreams @cursedkisss @jaibunni @blkkizzat

the room goes silent.

gojo sato freezes against the whiteboard, marker still in hand. sukuna has leaned away from suguru, eyes wide, as if suguru has just admitted to not showering this morning. the two boys stare at suguru. then at each other, then back to suguru again.

“ouuuu shii,” they drawl simultaneously.

“please don’t start this nonsense…”

“suguru, this is huge!” sato lets his marker fall to the floor, and runs to crouch in front of geto, elbows on suguru’s knees. “think about it, man. you and the girl of your dreams. partnered up to play husband n’ wife and take care of a plastic baby.”

suguru bites his cheek, neck hot. “it’s just a project.”

“no, it’s an opportunity,” sukuna corrects. “this is the girl who calls you bestie even when you look at her like you wanna eat her alive.” he snaps his fingers. “this is your chance, idiot. to show her you’re husband material. you have an excuse to call her wifey, for fuck’s sake.”

suguru’s phone is tight in his palm. his thumb is still tracing the line of your smile in the image he was staring at before he clicked his phone off.

“she thinks i’m her friend,” suguru murmurs, voice half-gone as he slips his phone into his pocket. “she’s comfortable with me. i’m not gonna ruin that by acting like a feral dog.”

“you’re already feral, idiot. y’think i didn’t see you staring at her IG photos like a creep?”

geto blinks. “how did you—“

“not important!” sato interrupts, slapping suguru’s thigh. he rests his chin on suguru’s knee, blue eyes glimmering in the light. “what’s important is, you have an opportunity. she’s already comfortable with you—you just have to take it further. call her sweetheart. baby. wife. see if she doesn’t stop you. take the leap, suguru.”

“take the leap,” sukuna grins.

take the leap. but the leap is a jump with no safety net. geto suguru knows what’s at stake. he knows if he ever let himself get too greedy—too carried away—he risks losing the friday mornings spent at the library with your head against his shoulder while you pretend to read from a book. he risks your voice calling his name across campus, and the way you hug his arm when you haven’t seen him in days, and the way you tug the piercing on his lip with a playful smile when you want his attention. geto suguru knows better than to risk it. he knows not to take the leap.

but he nods, lips tight as he reaches for his car keys on the table. “i’ll take the leap.”

“let’s go, daddy geto!” sato roars, dapping sukuna up. the boys watch with stupid grins as geto shoves things in his pockets. geto glances at the time: 5PM. “i’m going to her place now, we agreed to meet up.”

sukuna clutches his heart, then waves. “go get your wifey, asshole.”

suguru doesn’t look back. it’s time to fucking leap.

# SHOW TIME !

“suguruu, stop acting responsible and come cuddle me.”

ah, you’re such a fucking bother.

it’s sometime after six and geto suguru is in your bedroom with his shirt tossed somewhere on the floor and his silver chain cold against his chest. he’s putting together the plastic baby crib in preparation for the project’s official start on monday, and trying very fucking hard to ignore the fact that you’re all sprawled out on your bed behind him: hair fanned out, pillow to your chest, and whining his name because who are you if not a tease?

“you’re such a bad husband,” you mumble wistfully. “leaving your wife all alone on her bed like this…”

god.

geto’s throat bobs. there’s blood in his throat but his eyes skim the instructions with hazy focus. lord knows he wants nothing more than to press you into the covers and kiss you till you’re laughing his name and you can’t fucking breathe, but he knows the minute he pads over there you’ll laugh in his face.

his mouth dries.

“someone has to build the crib, angel,” he murmurs. it comes out lower than he intended, but whatever—it came out regardless. pet name number one, okay. “unless you want our fake baby sleeping on the rug?”

“i want my fake husband,” you hug your pillow tighter, and geto can hear the pout in your voice. your eyes are still on the ceiling, and geto doesn’t miss the fact that you don’t comment on the pet name. perhaps you didn’t hear it. perhaps you just don’t care. “and the baby is plastic,” you grumble. “it doesn’t care if it sleeps on a mattress or a floor.”

he hums. “bet it doesn’t complain as much either.”

“hey!” you gasp, chucking your pillow at him with a laugh. geto’s lip twitches in a smile. he rubs the back of his head, sweeping away the black strands falling in his face. he turns to glance at you, and then he wishes he didn’t, because you’re staring back at him with the brightest eyes he’s ever seen.

he bites his cheek. and then he pads over to you.

you watch, starry eyed, as geto lets the instruction manual glide to the floor. he presses a knee into the mattress, leg swinging over your thighs, bed dipping underneath his weight. his hair tickles your jaw and his chain dangles in front of you and geto suguru smells like dogwood and something too warm to have a name.

you blink up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs. “you look cute like this.”

he shouldn’t say that, he knows he shouldn’t, but you’re already curling your hand around his necklace and letting your thighs squeeze underneath him. and geto’s eyes rake down your body—just once, just a little, because he knows better than to leap that fucking far. so he bites his lip.

“i always look cute..” you mumble, lashes fluttering and voice fading underneath him.

“mm, but you look extra cute today,” he mutters, “like a real life mommy.”

you tug his necklace, grin cheeky. “geto suguru. are you trying to seduce me?”

“no,” he murmurs, and his voice is too low and the words come too fast. “i’m being a good husband. taking care of my wife’s needs before she even asks.”

he’s still propped up over you, bare pecs heaving & chain glinting too close to your face. the heat of his body pricks at your skin. you tug him closer by the chain: “and what needs do i have?”

“attention,” he murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek. “you've been whining since I got here. wanted me to stop working. wanted me to come cuddle you.”

“i was only joking..” you mumble, slightly shy. and geto wishes you wouldn’t say that. wishes he didn’t know that already.

but he’s a patient man. and how can he be upset when you look so pretty underneath him?

“i know,” he murmurs, voice warm, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “i’m sorry. am i making you uncomfortable?”

he says he’s sorry but his thumb still grazes your cheek, because he can’t not. you lean into him reflexively, and then you blink.

“what—? no, no. it’s just—“ your brows furrow, and you frown in that way that makes geto want to kiss it off. “it’s just… you’re so good at this, geto!”

his thumb pauses over your cheek. “what?”

“this husband thing!” you grin up at him, cheeks flushed. “you made me feel all hot and funny inside. your future wife is gonna be so lucky.”

geto blinks. you keep going.

“you were so hot,” you cup his cheek with a palm, and geto’s jaw is slack. “and you’re so responsible setting up the baby stuff. whoever you date and marry is gonna be so lucky. in a way this is perfect practice, isn’t it?”

his jaw tightens. “yeah, practice.”

he doesn’t say you’re the only girl he’s ever wanted, the only girl he’ll ever want, that last summer when you fell asleep on his couch with his hoodie on your shoulders he thought about you with his last name; or that every time you swat his chest and laugh away his efforts his heart cracks a little in his chest. he doesn’t tell you he’s only a man and his heart can’t take much more much longer.

but he squeezes your hip. bites your neck so you giggle and swat him away. rolls off you and pretends his chain isn’t still warm from your grip.

geto suguru pads away to kneel by the crib’s side. “is my wife gonna keep whining, or is she gonna help me fix this?”

SATO’S REMARK : TOUGH LUCK. BUT KEEP AT IT, BROTHER!

HUSBAND TACTICS #2: GET DOMESTIC !

taught by: toji zenin

“wanna woo her? take her on a family-esque activity. that’ll show her you’re husband material.”

ΣΧ

sigma chi’s frathouse kitchen is two bottles of bourbon & cranberry jam left open on the countertop. in the kitchen suguru geto is there, a hyper-realistic plastic baby on his hip as toji scribbles grocery items in handwriting geto will have to pretend to understand.

“here’s everything,” toji grumbles, clicking his pen and passing the note to suguru. geto’s face scrunches immediately, piercings glimmering as he squints his eyes in a desperate attempt to read the list. “how the hell is your handwriting worse than sukuna’s?”

“you’ll figure it out. it’s for meg,” toji answers, bored, drumming his pen against the sticky counter. “and some of the organic stuff my girl likes. i’ll be back late today, so i need you to drop it off at my place.”

suguru shifts the doll over his chest, taking one last look at the sorry note before stuffing it in his pocket. “are you taking meg with you today?”

“no, he’s home with the babysitter,” toji grunts, slipping his hands into his skinny jean pockets to hide the fake ice on his wrist. “new job’s paying good, so i’m taking the missus out on a date.”

“aww,” suguru softens, smile tugging at his lips. he’s pleased to see toji doing better, to say the least. he’s engaged to a pretty, rich lady now; working hard as a ghost writer for drake, all while being a good young father to meg. he pats the doll’s head absentmindedly. “that’s cute. what are you planning?”

“luxury shopping date,” toji mumbles.

“really?” suguru tilts his head. “where are you going?”

“shoppers drug mart.”

geto doesn’t comment.

“you should take that girl with you,” toji says, hands still in his pockets. “take her n’ your plastic doll grocery shopping. it’s good domestic practice. get her some expensive strawberries and see if she doesn’t fall head over heels.”

suguru bites his lip, phone already heavy in his pocket.

can’t hurt to try, right ?

# SHOW TIME !

suguru wishes you wouldn’t do this to him.

wishes you wouldn’t look all cute standing by the store’s glass doors, lashes fluttering as you blink around trying to find him. he should raise his hand, text you he’s just two aisles over and you should move before the lady behind gets mad at you for blocking the entrance. instead he watches with a fond smile as you frown and fumble to grab your phone from your purse.

he sighs, walking over to stand behind you with the fake baby in his arms. your eyes are still on your phone as your thumbs tap frantically, typing a message to send to his contact: ‘SUGURU. where are u???’

his lip twitches. he’s leaning so close over your shoulder that he can smell your shampoo, and your hair is tickling his nose, but you still don’t notice. so cute. geto thinks you’re so cute.

he hums into your neck. “who are we texting?”

“suguru!” you gasp, whipping around at the sound of his voice. he’s looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes, teasing smile, dark sweater sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. you frown at him. “you scared me! don’t you know you shouldn’t sneak up on vulnerable young women?!”

suguru blinks. “what?”

“you heard me,” you grumble, fake pout on your lips as you lean down to the plastic doll in his arms. “hi, lafayette. daddy’s being mean to mommy again.”

“i still can’t believe you named our baby after a revolutionary leader.” geto mutters.

“he’s my fave in hamilton,” you hum, slipping lafayette into your arms. “shall we get shopping?”

——

in geto’s shopping cart, there’s five shades of lipgloss, a bag of plantain chips, and four other items that are not on the shopping list.

geto suguru needs to start saying no. but it’s hard to deny you when you look up at him with those pretty eyes, batting your lashes all sweet in that way that makes his chest hurt. so he pushes the cart, resigned, watching the sway of your hips as you balance lafayette on your side and coo silly things to him like he’s a real human child. he shakes his head, bites his lip. geto suguru is utterly fucked.

“suguru! look at this!”

he shouldn’t look. because it’s just going to be another item you’ll seduce him into buying, but he looks anyways. you’re pointing at a box of dinosaur cereal—a clear off-brand version of froot loops. “lafayette would love this. can we get it for him?”

he pads around the cart to get a better look. “lafayette can’t eat cereal.”

“i meant megumi,” you coo, running a hand down his pecs. “he likes dinosaurs. he’ll love this.”

“no, he likes gummy worms,” but geto suguru is already distracted by your hand stroking his chest. his lip twitches, “you want this for yourself, don’t you?”

“caught me,” you flash him your sweetest smile, squeezing his pec before setting lafayette in the cart. geto watches as you lean up to the top shelf, skirt riding up your thighs as you reach for the box of cereal. his eyes drop. but then his neck heats and he quickly looks away.

“suguruu,” you frown, still reaching. “help me.”

suguru lets out a rough breath. he shouldn’t help, but he always will—what else can he do when you call his name like that?

he steps behind you, chest pressing against your back, arm reaching up and caging you in the process. your breathing hitches. suguru doesn’t miss it.

“suguru,”

“hm?”

“what are you doing?”

your voice comes out breathy, and suguru has to pretend he doesn’t like the way you sound or how you’re staring up at him with big eyes. he hums coolly. “i’m helping my wife.”

“oh,” your lashes flutter as he reaches to tug down your skirt. his knuckles brush your thigh & you glance down at his arm snaking around your hips before mustering up a smile.

you tease, “such a good husband, protecting my modesty.”

“mm,” he murmurs, “the best.”

your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. geto watches your lashes flutter—shy? nervous?—as your hand curls around his bicep to steady yourself. your palm squeezes his arm. he lets his hand dip to squeeze your inner thigh, and prays you don’t hear his breathing hitch.

“do good husbands usually grope their wives..?” you murmur, and geto thinks you’re teasing, but your lashes are low and your voice is so small and god he wants to kiss you so badly.

“don’t think so,” he mutters. “am i bad?”

“so bad,” you breathe. and your breath is hot & he’s leaning so close he can feel it on his lips. you squeeze his arm, eyes boring into his, and you really need to fucking stop before he leans down and kisses you. “but i don’t mind.”

god. you’re gonna fucking kill him. geto parts his lips to speak but you get your words out first.

“so,” you beam up at him, “the cereal?”

oh. the cereal.

fuck you and the cereal.

he doesn’t mean that, though. his jaw tightens as he lifts the box and drops it into the cart. his hands shove in his pockets, and geto suguru can only blink away the irritation burning in his eyes.

“thanks, sugu,” you lift lafayette into your arms. he’s gripping the cart handle right now, trying to ignore the fact that you’re smiling up at him and cursing himself because even now he thinks you are so beautiful.

“well then,” you chirp, grin sweet, “back to shopping!”

TOJI’S REMARK : SHE DON’T WANT YOUR ASS 🤦🏿‍♂️

HUSBAND TACTICS #3: GET SMOOTHER.

taught by: toru gojo

“your problem is that everything you do maintains plausible deniability. i think it’s time you claimed her in a way she can’t deny.”

ΣΧ

the good news is, even though geto ended up spending $200 on items not on toji’s list, the plantain chips you roped him into getting were really good. the bad news is, sato gojo is lying here on his lap, forcing geto to feed him said chips while gaming on sukuna’s nintendo switch.

“sugu, i want one,” -> geto feeds sato a chip. chew, swallow. “i can’t believe you embarrassed yourself like that.”

suguru’s eye twitches. “no more chips for you.”

they’re on the bed in toru’s room, and toru gojo sighs before slipping his headphones off at his desk. “sorry, but you guys are getting crumbs on my bed.”

sato laughs. “as if sukuna doesn’t jerk off in here every other day.”

“that was before he finished therapy,” toru mumbles in response, cheeks flushed in dismay. god bless geto for enrolling sukuna in therapy for his exhibitionist kink, despite sukuna’s wishes. toru takes his glasses off, runs a hand through his hair. “suguru, what’s this about you and y/n?”

“every time suguru tries something with her, she laughs him off,” sato snitches. he flashes geto a clumsy grin, smile totally innocent. “sugu, i want one.”

geto shoves him off his lap.

“maybe you’re not obvious enough,” toru plays with the stem of his glasses. “you guys are super close. even if you’re touching her, she might not take it seriously because she’s used to touchy friendships.”

“yeah!” sato agrees, fist pumped up, face flat on the floor. “my thoughts exactly, twin brother.”

“shut up.” geto and toru say simultaneously.

“anyway,” toru continues. “maybe get bolder. do something she can’t pass off as ‘just friends’.”

geto stares at the chips in his lap. “just friends, huh?”

#SHOW TIME!

geto leans by the kitchen door. “hi, mommy. what’re you doing?”

suguru’s over at your house for dinner. he’s just put lafayette to sleep in his crib, and he has his hands in his pockets as he pads over to you, sweatpants low on his hips. his arms cage you by the stove. “you smell good,” he mutters.

you ignore him. “i’m making dinner!” you beam, turning to face him.

geto can’t even tell what you’re showing him. in your hands is a charred mess, and geto can only pray the squiggly thing on the plate is spaghetti and not something else. his brows furrow in amused confusion as you beam up at him, lashes fluttering.

he cocks his head. “is this a burnt offering?”

“rude,” you swat his chest, and geto only smiles, eyes tracking the way your hair falls over your shoulders. you mutter curses as you shift the plate away, staring at the pot in dismay. “i wanted to cook for you.” you grumble.

his lip twitches. “like a real life wife?”

“yeah,” you turn to him, lips in a pout as you play with the chain on his chest. “but it didn’t work out. can you believe it?”

“i believe it,” he hums, but in reality he’s trying not to laugh, or rather, avoiding thinking about how glossy your lips look when you pout. his palms find your waist, “need your hubby to help?”

you smile up at him, “if he’d be so kind.”

geto lifts you by the hips before you can think better of it. you yelp as he sets you down on the counter, gripping him in a panicked hug. “suguru! you can’t just do that!”

he smiles, big. “do what?”

“lift me! and without warning!” you’re still hugging his neck tight, heart racing against his collarbone. he laughs, face in your hair to muffle the sound. his hands are splayed on your back, anchoring you against him.

“stop laughing at me,” you frown, and geto pulls back. he still has that lazy smile on his lips. “i’m not laughing,”

“yes you are,” you cup his face, smushing his cheeks in your palms. “look at your smile. it’s mocking.”

“adoring,” he mutters, gaze reverent.

“lying,” you pout, frown deep.

geto doesn’t argue. he only watches, eyes half-lidded, as you lift a palm from his cheek to card through his hair, stroking softly. you’re still pouting, still pretty. his thumb presses into your spine.

“i’ve never lied to you in my life,” he murmurs.

“yeah?” you’re still raking his hair, eyes never meeting his own. “then were you laughing at me just now?”

“no, mommy.”

“see?” you cock your head. “liar.”

he lets out a long, shuddering breath, hands sliding from your back to your waist, then down to squeeze your hips. you’re still stroking his hair, unbothered. no idea that you’ve got him crumbling beneath you.

“you feel so soft,” he murmurs before he can think better of it.

you tilt your head. “my hips?”

“and your waist, and your thighs,” he drawls, and he’s not even thinking straight anymore. “everywhere.”

you stare at him, brows knit, hand pausing in his hair. “suguru,”

“yeah, baby?”

“you’re being bad again.”

he lets out a strangled breath. he’s staring at your lips, he has been for a while now, and his gaze is bleary & eyes half-lidded. “sorry mommy,” he mumbles, “are you uncomfortable?”

“no?”

“then i’m gonna kiss you now.”

“sugu—“

and he does. he pauses just slightly—just enough to let you pull away if you don’t want this, if you don’t want him—but you don’t so geto presses his lips to your own. his first thought is gloss. your lips are so glossy; strawberry sweet & sugary fake. he lets his tongue slip out to lick your mouth, before cocking his head to kiss you deeper. you squeak, moaning into his mouth, kissing him back as he presses you into him. your thighs squeeze around his waist and geto slips a groan past your lips.

“so good,” he chases your lips when you pull away to breathe, “taste so good, pretty,”

you let him press sloppy kisses to your jaw, hands still in his hair.

but geto doesn’t notice how you freeze underneath him.

TORU’S REMARK: MY ADVICE WORKED?! THIS IS WHY I’M THE BETTER TWIN!! :)

HUSBAND TACTICS #4: GO GET YOUR WIFE !

taught by: ryomen sukuna

“good progress, bud. now all you gotta do? maintain the pace. keep showing her you’re the man now.”

ΣΧ

in sigma chi’s living room, ryomen sukuna is strapped to an armchair as sato hooks him up to a birth simulator.

idiots, the both of them. it started with sukuna saying that taking care of their plastic baby isn’t much work after all, and so motherhood can’t be that bad, and giving birth must not be that bad either. sato, ever the feminist, decided to challenge him on that. now it’s a weekday evening and sato is pressing electric pads to sukuna’s belly with his tongue in his cheek. sukuna the second (their plastic baby—sukuna won the argument it seems) is crying somewhere in the distance.

“nice work, daddy geto,” sukuna hums, shifting so sato can press another pad to his belly. “you’ve gotten the girl.”

geto has. so why doesn’t he feel like it?

you kissed him back. kissed him again. in fact, he’d say he had your lips for dinner. but the texts he sent you this morning are still unread: did you sleep well? can we talk?

geto shakes his head, relaxing into the sofa with his legs spread out as he watches sato fumble with the machine. “now all you gotta do is keep up the good work,” sukuna mumbles. “easy-peasy.”

“i feel like something’s wrong,” geto plays with his necklace. “but i’m not sure what it is, exactly.”

“nothing’s wrong, dumbass,” sukuna squints, watching sato frown at the remote. “you’re just not used to being forward. months of holding back will do that to ya. what you need to do now? ramp it up. tell her you wanna put a baby in her or something. girls love that shit.”

“oh, i agree with that. it’s like saying she’s wifey type.”

“you get me, sato.”

sato grins. then he presses a button on the remote and sukuna screams.

“jesus christ of nazareth!” sukuna roars, jerking in the chair. “fuck—! turn this shit off! sato!”

sato watches him jerk with his hands on his hips, lips bent in a clumsy smile. “what? i can’t hear you over your screaming!”

suguru eyes his frat brothers, both sukuna’s—and sukuna the second’s—cries roaring in his ears. he’s still not sure why this is even happening, but he’s long concluded both his frat brothers were born with a brain. he sighs, burying his face in his hands.

he really needs to fucking see you.

#SHOW TIME !

geto wasn’t sure you’d want to see him.

but you’d already planned to meet up today; long before he kissed you on the countertop, long before he sent you six messages & deleted them all when he received no response. it would be wiser to stay home but he shows up anyway, because he’s a coward who’s trying not to be, and he hasn’t eaten anything in days because everything in the sigma chi kitchen suddenly tastes like your lips.

you greeted him with a smile on your face.

lafayette on your hip, pretty smile as you beckoned him in. said you were just about making lunch. asked him to go handle it in the kitchen because obviously you don’t want to see his face.

geto shakes his head, stares at the water running off his hands in the sink. he has to think positive.

“lafayette, baby, please don’t cry,” your voice comes from the living room. “mommy’s trying so hard—oh my god. i swear i’m gonna take out your batteries!”

geto laughs through his nose before he can think better of it.

he wipes his hands, pads over to the doorframe to watch you fuss over lafayette in the living room. you’re bouncing the plastic robot in your hands, trying to get it to stop its automated wailing. “shhh. want me to sing you a song, baby? you like songs from hamilton, right? okay, okay. why do you cry like you’re running out of time—”

lafayette screams. geto falls in love.

well he was already in love, but somehow his heart has gone sticky in his chest. it’s silly, isn’t it? but geto’s thought about it a lot. your laugh in the kitchen on sunday mornings, your contact saved with his last name, you waking him up at 3am for some ridiculous craving; and he’d get up to retrieve it, of course. because geto suguru would go to the ends of the earth for you if you’d allow it.

is it weird to think of domestic life with someone you aren’t even dating?

probably. but then he thinks about your thighs squeezing his waist on the kitchen counter, your pretty moans in his mouth, your hands in his hair—and god. god god god. geto suguru has never wanted something so badly.

so he doesn’t think too much before padding over to join you in the living room, arms wrapping around your hips. “hey.”

you tense, just a little, just enough that geto doesn’t notice, then relax into him just slightly. “hi. are you being bad again?”

he can hear the smile in your voice, but your usual playfulness isn’t as strong. “maybe. you look cute, bouncing our baby like that.”

you force a smile, eyes dropping to lafayette wailing in your arms. “well—“

“you’d make such a pretty mommy,” geto breathes, and even he’s not sure what he’s saying. all he knows is you’re warm and pretty and in his arms and it’s all he’s ever wanted, all he’ll ever want.

you don’t respond, and geto’s in his feelings now, so his mouth keeps moving: “i think about it a lot,” he murmurs. “mornings with you. you burning the eggs because you’ve never been a good cook.” his palm shifts to your belly. “and i’ll eat them anyways.”

“suguru,”

“and you’d get mad at me for eating them,” he breathes, collapsing into your neck. “tell me you don’t need my sympathy and frown up at me while bouncing our baby on your hip. and then you’d kiss me because you secretly find it sweet of me.” he breathes. “i think about it a lot.”

“you’d make such a pretty wife, such a pretty mommy,” geto breathes. and your neck is so warm, and his lips are ghosting over it, and as his palm glides over your belly his dizzy mind flashes back to sukuna’s words: girls love feeling like they’re wifey!

so he kisses your neck. “can’t wait to see you round with my baby.”

if you were tense before, you’re frozen now.

“suguru.”

“hm?”

“i’m uncomfortable.”

geto freezes.

you step out of his hold, lafayette to your chest, pretty eyes looking up at his. but you’re not looking at him with your usual fondness. your eyes are bored—unimpressed—something geto’s hazy mind can’t seem to name. your lips are tight. “i think you should take lafayette for the weekend.”

“y/n—“

“and don’t contact me,” you snap, irritated. “don’t call, text, nothing. i just—“ you bite your lip, “you need to leave, geto.”

not suguru, geto. okay. okay.

geto leaves with lafayette in his arms. his heart is still in your living room.

SUKUNA’S REMARK : WHO TOLD YOU TO SAY THAT?!

HUSBAND TACTICS #5: DIVORCE COURT !

taught by: nanami kento

“you’ve been leading with actions instead of words. are you really surprised?”

ΣΧ

is it so bad to be forward?

geto has his head on the steering wheel & his heart in his throat. lafayette is crying in the backseat but geto doesn’t care, doesn’t care to rip out the batteries or at least sing the doll to sleep. instead he grips the steering so hard his knuckles turn white.

can’t wait to see you round with my baby.

why did he say that? he wants to blame it on sukuna but he can’t. geto knows it’s all on him, of course. he let himself get too love drunk, too hope drunk, too drunk on a future that will never exist. he thought about sato and sukuna who don’t think before they talk and still manage to get the girl. but life has never let him have anything easy, and with you in his arms he managed to forget that. now the only girl he’s ever wanted thinks he sees her as just flesh, and geto is a coward so he doesn’t plan to redeem himself.

it’s best to let you go.

“do you intend to drive?”

nanami’s voice is flat beside him. it’s more of a bored comment than a question, and geto lifts his head up slow. nanami kento is beach-blond hair & pressed on clothes and a bored look that never seems to leave his face. he stares at geto. geto stares back.

“i’m going through a crisis.”

“i observed. should i get toji to drive me instead?”

“have a heart, kenny,” geto slumps against the driver’s seat. nanami’s license is on a three-day suspension for being slightly tipsy while driving, and it’s unusual for kento, but we all have our problems. geto reaches for a cigar in the glove box. nanami smacks his hand away.

“this is about y/n, correct? sato told me all about it.”

of course he did—what a snitch.

geto rests his head on the wheel, careful not to let the horn sound. “is it my turn for some advice?”

“i suppose,” nanami pushes up his glasses. “did you ever try speaking english?”

geto blinks. “english?”

“the others advised you to be forward, correct?” nanami starts. “touch her, kiss her, all of it. but did you ever speak english? tell her that you liked her? wanted her?”

geto blinks. but kento’s not done.

“i heard about what happened most recently, sukuna told me all about it,” nanami sighs. “telling a woman she’d make a pretty mom. telling her you can’t wait to see her round with your baby.” kento scoffs. “you have your domestic fantasies, geto. but do you know how terrifying that is to a woman who you haven’t even told ‘i love you’?”

ah. geto knew he’d been missing something.

he’s always been a coward. at thirteen, he pierced his own ears with a ballpoint pen and hid the bleeding from his parents for weeks. at seventeen, he got his first tattoo, and charred it off with cigarette butts until all that remained was the outline. at nineteen, he kissed a girl and blocked her the next day. at twenty-two, he fucked up his chances with the only woman he’s ever loved. geto suguru has never known how to handle wanting something. he either destroys it or runs far, far away.

“so what do i do now?” geto asks, brows knit. “she told me to stay away from her.”

“then you do exactly that,” nanami’s already unbuckling his seatbelt. “give her the space she needs. you’ve crowded her for long enough, suguru.”

he has, hasn’t he?

“i’ll ask toji to give me a lift,” nanami is standing outside the car. “you’re in no condition to drive.”

nanami slams the door shut. lafayette is still crying in the backseat.

# SHOW TIME !

geto suguru is back in your room again.

not in the way he’d like, not sprawled on your bed or with you curled into his side. he’s sitting diagonally across from you on the mini-table you have laid out, because he’d tried to sit opposite you and caught the way your lip twitched with irritation.

geto is on his best behavior.

the plastic doll is asleep in its crib as you and suguru fill out spreadsheets. logs on feeding times, that sort of thing. he stares at the gleaming columns—empty. they’ve been empty for an hour now, because geto suguru can’t stop his eyes from shifting from his laptop screen to your face.

“feeding log,” you say flatly. “did you do the 2PM ?”

“yeah,” he did—he thinks. everything is blurry.

“no you didn’t,” you bite. “i’m literally looking at the column right now. it’s empty. and it shouldn’t be.”

geto’s fingers twitch over his keyboard. the spreadsheet in front of him is empty, but the previous one—the one you’re looking at—shouldn’t be. he remembers logging it yesterday with his back bent over the kitchen island, eyes clouded over, thinking, wondering if he should send you a message.

he croaks, “i did fill it in. check the—“

“you didn’t,” you snap, and geto’s never had you snap at him before so he’s not sure what to do with that. “i’m literally looking at it right now. can you please take this seriously?”

“okay,” he swallows.

you turn back to your laptop, irritated. geto fills out the spreadsheet in front of him. he won’t give you reason to be upset with him any longer.

———

the second time geto sees you after the incident, it’s at the local library.

you’re already done with today’s work, and the walk back to the residences is long & winding. geto suguru knows his place. he has his eyes down on the pavement, wind flinging his hair in his face, three feet behind you because you’d eye him if he got any closer.

you’re shivering.

and geto noticed it three minutes ago, to be honest. noticed how your shoulders hugged together, how you shoved your hands into your pockets. he should give you his jacket. you’re cold, and he doesn’t want you getting sick, and he doesn’t want you to snap at him or shoot him down but you’re cold and you’re beautiful and geto suguru is calling your name before he can think any better of it.

“y/n—here.”

he holds out his jacket. you turn back to look at the material, and then back at him.

“i don’t want it.”

he should stop. “you’re freezing. i don’t want you to catch a—“

“i’d rather freeze.” you deadpan. “can you not speak to me?”

geto bites his lip. he stops himself before he can say okay.

——

in the library’s study room, geto suguru has his head on his keyboard and eyes staring at the glass door.

his phone chimes, but he doesn’t check the message because he knows it’s just team snapchat. but then it chimes again, and geto reaches for his phone even though he knows there’s no point.

—

y/n :)

where are you

i have your location.

we need to work on the project

—

geto scrambles—actually scrambles, he accidentally knocks over the chair behind him—and then he breathes. wipes his face with his hoodie sleeves. breathes again.

when you walk in, you don’t say hi.

you sit diagonally across again, and open up your laptop. you look pretty today. hair loose over your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the weather, lashes fluttering in the light. and your lips are glossy again, like they were in the supermarket, like they were on the kitchen counter—and oh god. geto needs to stop staring.

but he doesn’t. he watches, mouth slightly agape, as your nails click at your keyboard. he can tell you’re upset or irritated, and he thinks—no, knows it’s because of him, and he really needs to get this work done so you won’t get sad and snap at him again. he doesn’t want to be in trouble. he doesn’t know what to do when you get like that. so he turns his eyes to his laptop. but somehow, they drift back to your face again.

“can you stop fucking staring at me?”

“sorry—“ he flinches. “i’m sorry, i’ll look away.”

there’s a lump in his throat. he’s looking at the screen but he can’t quite see it, and the numbers and columns have mixed together and swollen up on the page.

but you aren’t done.

“seriously, what is your problem?” you snap, irritated. “we have a project to do. and you’ve been letting your stupid feelings get in the way of it all!”

he wants to say he’s sorry again, and that his feelings aren’t stupid but he’s sorry, and it’s all he’ll ever be, but instead his voice comes out as a croak. “i’m trying.”

you stare at him in disbelief. his fingers are shaking under the table. has he always been this jumpy?

“you need to try harder,” you snarl. “or what? too busy thinking about marrying me? having me round with your baby?” he shrinks. “what the fuck, geto?”

he doesn’t know how to explain that that day in the living room he wasn’t thinking of actually giving you a baby, at least not right now. he doesn’t know how to explain that when he looks at you he thinks of forever, he wants forever, and ever since starting this project ‘forever’ has looked like wedding bells and sunday mornings and grocery runs with a mini-you in the cart. he doesn’t know how to say he wants you to be his, your last name, your everything, and it’s sick and twisted and too much too fast but geto suguru has never been able to want in increments.

so he shrinks. stares at his keyboard. you snap, “say something!”

“i’m sorry,” he croaks, eyes on his lap. “i didn’t want to—i wasn’t trying to—“

“you scared me!” you snap. “geto, you scared me. you’ve been scaring me! these last few weeks—“ you slam your book shut. “touching me. kissing me. and i don’t mind—swear to god i don’t. but you’ve been acting so weird so suddenly! saying things you’ve never said before. is this some kind of twisted roleplay?!”

geto stifles a breath. tries to count in his head so he doesn’t breakdown in front of you. he knows that wouldn’t be fair. you keep going:

“i don’t know what i’m supposed to think,” you grip the table. “my best friend of how many years gets partnered with me for a project, great! but then he starts kissing me on countertops. standing too close in grocery stores. telling me i’d make a pretty wife and mommy and—it’s weird! i don’t know where it’s coming from! he’s never said he likes me in his life, but he can’t wait to see me round with his baby?”

you’re sniffling now. “what the fuck, geto?”

your shoulders are shaking, and you’ve sat back down, and your pretty face is in your hands as you cry. geto’s heart aches. because you’re not supposed to cry because of him. because he’s not supposed to make you uncomfortable, or confused, or upset, and he’s done all of that in the span of a week. and geto’s mouth dries. he wants to pad over and hold you in his arms but he knows he doesn’t have the right to fucking do that.

he breathes in, deep.

“i’m sorry—for moving too fast,” his hands fist. “i’ve been in love with you since freshman year. and i tried, i swear i did, to show it. but you always laughed it off. and instead of telling you outright, i just got more and more aggressive with it. i think part of me has always thought you’d never feel the same,” he swallows. “so i thought it’d be safer to show it than say it out loud. but that was only safe for me.”

he bites his lip. you’re still bawling into your hands, small and terrified, and geto‘s eyes sting. he can’t believe you’re shaking because of him.

“baby—“ he catches himself, “please don’t cry,”

“i hate you,” you sob, “i’m never gonna forgive you ever.”

he swallows. “you don’t have to. but please don’t cry,” his hands tighten on his jeans. “i don’t know what to do when you cry.”

and it’s the first time geto’s been honest, because he really doesn’t know. because you’ve never cried because of him, and normally if you ever cried at all he’d drag you into his chest but right now that doesn’t feel appropriate.

but he gets up anyways.

takes your hands from your face. and you’re so gorgeous even with tears on your cheeks, eyes glistening wet, lips puffed out & nose flushed from crying. and he wants to hug you so badly, but for now he settles for crouching to your height and wiping the tears from your eyes.

you glare down at him, and he should be scared again but all he can think is that you’re so fucking cute. your nose is all puffy and your eyes slightly red. “you’re such an idiot.”

“i know.”

“and this is so cliché.”

“i know.”

“and i want you too, but slower.”

“i didn’t know that.”

“you know it now,” you curse. “you’re an idiot, i swear.”

geto breathes. and then you cup his face, watching the way his eyes glisten with wet. “you still haven’t confessed to me, suguru.”

“i love you,” he says too quickly. “since freshman year. i think about you too much. you’re always on my mind, and i don’t want anyone but you, and i love you so much y/n and i’ll love you forever if you’ll let me—“

you interrupt him with a kiss.

BONUS !

“i can’t believe he said he wants you round with his baby.”

the project is long over, and today you’re on the countertop of the sigma chi kitchen, legs swinging as you gossip with sukuna. he has your plantain chips in his hands, leaning against the counter as he eagerly munches on the snacks.

“i told him to approach you calmly and honestly, y’know? told him girls love communication,” sukuna clicks his tongue. “nobody listens to me in this household.”

you laugh, “really? that would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.”

“right?” sukuna shakes his head, passing you a plantain chip. “he’s got his brain in his ass cheeks, i swear.”

you giggle, and right then, the door swings open. sato gojo bursts in with his arms spread out in glee. “we’re back!”

geto trudges behind him, holding too many shopping bags for one person. sato has already run towards his room, leaving you and sukuna confused—but then geto drops the bags to the floor with a thud. he looks up at you. “hey,”

sukuna absentmindedly blocks your head with his own. “yo, man.”

“can you move your fat fucking head?” geto walks past him, ignoring the gasp sukuna lets out. he brackets you on the counter, forehead slightly sticky with sweat, chain glistening in the afternoon heat.

he murmurs, “hi, baby.”

“hi, handsome,” you cup his face. “back from your date with sato?”

“not a date,” he mumbles, kissing your palm, then your cheek, then your jaw. “was getting groceries.” he murmurs. “missed you so bad, pretty.”

you gigle, squeaking and squirming away as he attacks your face with kisses. he pulls back teasingly, smile smug, before you tug him back in by his chain. sukuna watches calmly, shoving another plantain chip in his mouth. he nods in approval of the flavor.

but he quickly grows bored. “don’t get too comfortable guys. i’ll whip out my dick and start stroking right now.”

“what...?”

“can you pretend to be normal?!”

before suguru can strangle sukuna, sato bounces back into the kitchen. his grin is clumsy, cap tilting off his hair, and in his hands is a machine that looks like a mini-tablet and a bunch of wires connected to pads at the ends.

sukuna’s face contorts in horror. “is that—“

“yup!” sato beams. “it’s time for round two!”

SIGMA CHI’S REMARK : NICE WORK, DADDY GETO !

# SIGMA CHI STORIES !

PLAYING HOUSE, end.

© HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.

Your penmanship, loops and swirls of diplomatic correspondence, had done this. Had summoned him from his throne, from the matters of curses and domains and territories he claimed to prioritize over you.

His lower hands gripped the meat of your hips, fingers dimpling the flesh hard enough to bruise. The upper set bracketed your shoulders, one palm flattening against the back of your skull, the other splayed across your spine, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"You think I cannot read between the lines, woman?" His voice rumbled through his chest, through the floor, through you. "The way you dot your i's. The curve of your p's. Practically begging."

What the fuck is he talking about? You thought momentarily.

You tried to shake your head, to protest, but he pressed down harder, your cheek grinding against the ruined letter. The ink smeared, your words becoming illegible. ‘Your Excellency, the eastern territories require-’

His cocks pressed against you, both of them. The weight of them settled against the cleft of your ass, the slick heat of your cunt, and you could feel every throbbing inch, every ridged vein. He hadn't even entered you yet, and already your thighs were trembling.

"The last time you wrote to me," he continued, his voice dropping into something darker, something that made your stomach clench, "you signed it with such care. Such precision."

His hips rolled, the heavy shafts dragging against your wetness, coating themselves in the arousal that had started the moment you heard his footsteps. "I kept it. Did you know that? Between the pages of texts even I shouldn't possess."

The thought of him sitting in his private chambers, reviewing your neat, proper handwriting with those crimson eyes, touching the paper the way he touched you. "You are strange," you breathed, and the words came out wrong. Came out worshipful.

His laugh was low, mean, the sound vibrating through the stomach-mouth that pressed against your lower back. That mouth's tongue-forked, hungry-licked a wet stripe up your spine, tasting your salt, your fear, your desperate want.

"My ‘strangeness’ you seem to enjoy," he agreed, and there was no shame in his voice.

The first cock nudged against your entrance, the blunt head spreading you open, and you gasped, your fingers scrabbling at the sheets. He didn't push in.

He waited, letting you feel the threat of it. His pink hair had fallen across his brow, sweat already beginning to darken the strands. His eyes were half-lidded, blown wide with lust, the red irises nearly swallowed by black.

"You want to know what I did with your letter, little scribe?"

"I-" Your voice cracked when he shifted, the head of his cock catching against your clit, sliding through your folds with deliberate cruelty. "What did you do?" His grin split wider, and his hips snapped forward. The first cock buried itself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, and your scream was swallowed by the pillows, by his hand, by the sheer size of him stretching you open.

Your vision whited out, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your body fought to accommodate him. He was too big. He was always too big, and you would never get used to it, would never stop feeling like a vessel being filled beyond capacity.

"Touched myself with it," he growled against your ear, his breath hot, his chest pressing against your back. The second cock nestled against the first, pressing against your stretched rim, threatening to join it.

"Wrapped that pretty letter around my cock and imagined it was your throat. Your cunt. Your hand." You moaned, long and broken, and he laughed again, cruel and delighted.

"Got it all wet. Ruined your neat little words. Couldn't even read the damn thing after, just a mess of ink.” He thrust, shallow and sharp, making you jolt.

His lower hands slid up your sides, claws dragging against your ribs, not breaking skin but promising they could. The upper hands returned to their positions, one on your head, one on your spine.

He pulled out until only the tip remained, letting your body clutch at him, desperate to keep him inside, then slammed back in with enough force to shove you up the bed. Your knees slid against the silk, your nails tore at the fabric.

"Count," he ordered, and the word was ragged, his composure beginning to crack.

"What?" His hand tightened in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arched, until you could see the ceiling, the shadows, the madness in his eyes.

"Every letter. Every word you used to tempt me." His hips snapped harder, faster, the second cock now pressing against your entrance, the pressure building, building, building. "I want to hear you apologize for each one."

"I wasn't-"

"One," he commanded, and his second cock pushed in. Your body seized. Your mind went blank. The stretch was unimaginable, two of him filling you, splitting you, rearranging your insides until you weren't sure where he ended, and you began. The burn was fire, was pleasure, was pain, was everything all at once, and you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, all you could do was feel. "Say it."

"One," you sobbed, and he rewarded you with a thrust that made your toes curl.

"Good girl. Next word. The first one that made me hard."

"T-Territories," you gasped, because that was the first word you could recall, the one that started it all.

His laugh was dark, approving. "Territories. Yes. You wanted to discuss territories with me." He punctuated the word with a thrust that made your eyes roll back. “As if,” he scoffed. The hand in your hair released you, and you slumped forward, gasping, only to feel his palm come down on your ass in a sharp, stinging slap.

The sound echoed through the chambers, mixing with your cry, with the wet slap of his hips against your skin. "Keep going."

"E-Eastern," you managed, your voice breaking.

"Eastern territories." Another slap, harder this time, and you could feel the heat blooming across your skin, the imprint of his hand spreading like a brand onto your flesh.

His pace grew brutal, insane, the bed shaking beneath you, the headboard cracking against the wall. He was lost in it now, in you, all pretense of control dissolving into pure, animal need. His claws dug into your hips, his teeth grazed your shoulder, and the mouth on his stomach pressed open-mouthed kisses against your back, tasting every inch of skin it could reach.

"R-Respectfully-" you tried, and he laughed so hard his rhythm stuttered.

"That's it. That's the sound I kept your letter for." His voice was ragged now, his hips pistoning, his skin slapping against yours with a rhythm that bordered on violence.

Your climax was building, a wave so high you couldn't see the top, couldn't breathe for the pressure of it. He felt it too. The way your cunt was squeezing him, milking him, trying to pull him deeper, trying to keep him forever.

"Cum," he ordered, and his voice was absolute, was law. "Cum on my cocks and show me what you wrote that letter for."

The orgasm ripped through you like a blade, like fire, like every nerve in your body igniting at once. Your back arched, your mouth opened in a silent scream, and your cunt clamped down on him so hard he groaned, long and deep, his rhythm faltering as you pulsed around him, as your slick gushed down his shafts, as you painted him with the proof of your pleasure.

Your body was still spasming when he pushed through it, still shaking when he fucked you through the aftershocks, still gasping when he finally, finally let himself go.

His hips slammed into you one last time, burying both cocks to the hilt, and you felt him pulse inside you, felt the hot flood of his release fill you, spill out of you, drip down your thighs in thick, white ropes.

He came for what felt like minutes, his body shuddering against yours, his arms tightening until you couldn't move. You let your body slump against the sheets; you know you will be here for a while.

CHOSO ♡ KAMO

"Hello everyone! Welcome back to the stream." You greeted your camera, adjusted to an unfamiliar angle in an unfamiliar room. Choso's fingers hovered over his keyboard to ask where you were, even if he knew. He couldn't let his top commenter spot go.

The chat exploded with greetings and comments about the unexpected stream. You're usually strict on your schedule, and multiple streams in one week were rare.

T3_Sahur: ur better than El Cinco Yuki Supremacy: Haii!! Can you please play the new update of the last stream's game???? SixSevenEyes: {@T3_Sahur} ur taking it too far, el cinco tops

"Okay, okay! No game today, just wanted to talk." You interacted with chat for a bit. Usually, Choso was the first to comment and get noticed by you, but his hands were busy stroking his cock to your voice. He had missed it since he last saw you. Begging for you to take him to New York with you, it was only for a day, but the thought of you being so far away for so long was too much on his heart, and the dwindling supply of lotion.

He double-clicked his mouse, zooming in on your face. The comments were distracting, and instead of saying their usernames and repeating comments, he wished you'd say his name. Call out to him, touch him, tell him what to do next.

His hands were nothing like yours, so soft and pretty. He imagined yours instead of his, stroking his cock, bringing him closer to the edge. Grabbing his phone from off the ledge, he took a picture of cock. The notification sounded through the screen. Picking up your phone, your eyes widened suddenly. Quickly looking up at your monitor, making sure the audience could not see the obscene picture Choso had sent.

Under the photo, he typed impatiently, 'Say my name plzz.'

Your hand darts out, phone face down on the desk before anyone can see. The motion is too quick.

KenjakuFanAccount: oop what was that lovesick_angel: did ur phone scare u LOL RamenKing55: sus

You laugh it off, the sound tight in your throat. "Sorry, sorry. Just the notification scared me. You know how it is."

Your fingers itch to pick the phone back up, to look at the picture again, his thick cock, pink at the tip, wetness beading at the slit, his hand wrapped around the base with those silver rings glinting.

Three dots. He's typing.

Choso: i miss u so much it hurts Choso: ur so pretty on camera Choso: please say it

"Um—" Your voice cracks. You grab your water bottle, take a long sip, and let the cool liquid ground you. "No, I haven't been there," you hummed. Picking up your phone, pretending to look up the restaurant. Instead of a Google search, it was different angles of your boyfriend's cock begging for you.

"Choso would love it there."

He moaned into your panties, taking them from the laundry. He needed you on him, and this was the closest he was going to get to smelling your sweet pussy. His tongue lapped up the gusset, tasting the leftover fluids on his tongue.

His hips buck into his fist at the sound of his name falling from your lips. Choso. The way you said his name could make him cum in his pants, no matter how many times you've said it.

He wished you weren't currently sitting in a hotel room thousands of miles away while he was suffocating himself in your worn panties, cock leaking all over his stomach.

The screen blurs for a moment as his eyes roll back. He blinks rapidly, forcing himself to focus on your face.

His phone buzzes again, but he doesn't pick it up. Can't. Both hands are occupied now—one fisting his cock, the other pressing your panties to his face so hard the elastic digs into his cheeks. He inhales deep, greedy, like a man drowning. The scent of you floods his lungs, settles in his chest, makes his head spin.

On screen, you're talking about something. The restaurant. Some place he's never heard of, some place you went without him. The thought makes something dark curl in his gut. His grip tightens, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, spreading pre-cum down the shaft. He should be there. He should be in you, not jerking off to your voice.

"I think he'd order the spiciest thing on the menu," you're saying, and your voice has gone softer now, more distracted. Your eyes flick down to your phone, then away. "He's like that. Can't help himself. Always to the extreme."

Choso whines, the sound muffled by the cotton pressed against his mouth.

The chat scrolls faster.

AppleBottomJeans: who's choeso??? RamenKing55: {@AppleBottomJeans} her bf bro catch up SixSevenEyes: El cinco better

He wants to comment. Wants to type something, anything, just to see his name in the chat, to have you read it aloud in your voice that makes his balls draw up tight.

"Anyway," you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. The movement makes your shirt— his shirt, he realizes with a jolt that has pre-cum dripping down his knuckles, rides up, showing a strip of skin he wants to sink his teeth into.

His free hand leaves his cock, grabbing his phone with shaking fingers. The screen is slick with pre-cum, but he doesn't care. He opens the camera, angles it down, takes a picture of his flushed cock, the veins standing out, the way his balls are drawn up tight and aching.

He doesn't type anything this time. Just sends it. Watches your face as your phone buzzes again.

You don't pick it up immediately this time. You keep talking, something about the trip, about the project, about the schedule. But your eyes keep darting to the phone. Your leg is bouncing under the desk. Your chest is rising and falling a little faster than it should be.

Please, he thinks, gripping his cock again, stroking slowly and deliberately. He begs you to pick it up. Look at it. Think about him inside you, filling you up.

The phone buzzes again. And again. He's sent three more photos now, each one filthier than the last. Finally, you pick it up.

Your eyes widen. Your throat works as you swallow. And Choso watches, hypnotized, as your thighs press together under the desk. "Sorry," you say, and your voice is rough now, strained. "Just someone keeps texting me. It's distracting."

You laugh, but it's hollow. "It's not important."

Choso's hand stills. He's typing before he can stop himself, thumbs flying across the screen.

Choso: no one important??? Choso: i made u cum three times before i left Choso: remember? u were crying so pretty on my cock

Your phone buzzes five times in quick succession. You don't pick it up. You keep talking, keep pretending, but your hand is trembling where it rests on the desk.

His cock aches. Fist fucking his cock vigorously. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he comes. Bringing the fabric from his face, he presses it to the tip of his cock, soaking the fabric in his cum. He sends another picture. This one is your panties stretched over his cock, the fabric dark and wet.

"I have to go," you say suddenly, and your voice cracks on the last word. "Stream's over. I'll schedule something for next week. Bye."

The screen goes black. A few moments later, a message pops up. Pink panties, the gusset soaked in your juices. 'Just wait till I get home.'

He knows you intended it as a warning, but it only made his cock grow harder.

TOJI ♡ FUSHIGURO

Toji rarely checked his phone during a job; however, boredom was taking over. His hands fiddling with the earpiece readily in his ear. The vibration of his phone in his deep pockets was an escape from the stakeout.

Three full days of torture, not only had he not left the truck, but he didnt even get to see his sweet wife. If it weren't for the payout, he would never take jobs like these. Green eyes narrow against the glare, expecting another useless update from the client.

Instead, his thumb hovers. A message from you. A picture. He clicks it before he can think. It's a mirror shot.

Your phone is angled just so, a big black shirt hanging off your skin. A loose hand pulling at the collar, a bit of cleavage peaking through the material. The bathroom light catches the sheen of what looks like oil on your skin, highlighting the plush swell of your thigh. Your lips are visible in the reflection, parted slightly.

Toji's jaw tightens. His cock, already half-hard from days of nothing but monotony, was pulsing against his thigh. He can almost feel the warmth of your skin under his palms, the way you'd arch into him if he pressed you against the cool bathroom mirror.

A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest. His grip on the phone tightens until the plastic creaks. He can practically hear the wet, slick sounds his fingers could make, can picture the way your lips would part, the little breathy gasps you'd let out accompanied by his name.

He doesn't think. He hits the call button. It rings once. Twice. His patience, already a frayed wire, snaps.

"Pick up," he growls to the empty truck, his voice a gravelly rasp.

On the third ring, there's a click, and then your voice.

“Toji?"

"Nah," he cuts off, his voice low. "Don't just send me shut like that and play it cool." His own hand drops from the phone, palming the heavy, aching length of his cock through his cargo pants. The coarse material rubs against the sensitive head, and he has to bite back a groan.

"My day was great, thank you," you scoffed, "I can't miss you?" he could hear the faint sound of water running and turning off.

"I missed you too," he grunts, finally giving in and unzipping his pants. He's thick, heavy in his own hand, the skin hot. He wraps his fingers around the base, giving a slow, tight stroke. "Talk to me, baby. What are you doing?"

“Just got out of the shower, might watch a movie,” you hummed, voice soft against the microphone. The sound of a drawer sliding open, the soft jostle of fabric.

"Don't," he says, "Don't put anything on yet."

"What?"

"The movie. Keep talking to me," he rasps, working his fist up his shaft, pre-cum beading at the tip. "Haven't heard your voice in ages."

There's a pause, the soft pad of bare feet against tile. Then the whisper of fabric, the rustle of cotton sliding over skin. He can picture the shirt falling against your thighs, the way the worn material would cling to the curve of your breasts. “It's been three days, Toji,” you chuckled softly.

“That's a long time,” he groaned. The sound of your soft laugh crackles through the speaker, and he swears he can feel it against his neck. He fists himself tighter, slower, the way you like it when he's being mean.

"A long time," you echo, voice low. "You sound busy."

"Just sittin' in a truck," he grits out, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. The movement makes his hips jerk, a barely restrained snap of muscle. "B-bored out my fuckin' mind."

"Bored?" The word lilts up at the end, and he hears the soft creak of the bed. The one he should be in right now should be pressed against you, not sitting in some stale truck. "Or lonely?"

"Both," he growls, and he can hear the edge in his own voice. The one that usually makes you shiver, makes you press your thighs together. "Miss you. Miss watchin' you fall apart on my cock."

A sharp exhale from your end. The rustle of sheets.

He closes his eyes and sees it: you sprawled across their bed, that black shirt riding up your thighs, your hand drifting down. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he breathes, working his length in firm, practiced strokes. His forearm flexes, veins standing out against scarred skin. "You touchin' yourself right now, baby? Got that hand between your legs?"

"Maybe," you whisper, and he can hear the smile in your voice.

His grip tightens. "Don't play with me."

"I'm not playing," you purred, and the hitch in your breath tells him everything. Your fingers are doing exactly what he'd be doing if he were there. Circling slowly. Teasing. "Just...thinking about you."

"Sure." His strokes get rougher, the wet sounds of his fist working his cock filling the truck. “What're you thinkin' about, sweetheart? How I'd have you bent over that sink? How would I pull that wet hair back and make you watch yourself in the mirror while I fuck you slowly?"

Your breath stutters. "Toji.”

"That's right," he grunts, voice dropping lower, meaner. "Want you spread open on my cock, just how you like it.”

"Yes," you gasp, and he knows you're not just playing along. He knows that breathy little sound, the way it cracks in the middle. Your fingers are buried inside yourself right now, curling just right. "Wish you were here.”

"Missed you," you whimper, and he hears the wet sounds of your fingers moving faster, faster. "Missed your cock. Missed how full you make me."

"I'll be back soon," he promises, voice ragged. He's pumping his fist in rhythm with the sounds coming through the phone, the slick slide of your fingers, your desperate little gasps. "Gonna fill this pussy up so good. Gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

"You better," you gasp. "Please, Toji, I'm-"

"I know," he cuts you off, his own release coiling hot and tight at the base of his spine. "Let me hear it. Wanna hear you come for me."

Your soft moans echo through the speaker, and it sends him over. He comes with a guttural sound, thick ropes of it spilling over his knuckles, hitting the steering wheel, his thigh.

His hips jerk through it, muscles locked tight, eyes screwed shut as he pictures your face, your slick fingers, the way your thighs would shake against his hips.

"Who taught you to talk like that?” you questioned, a yawn escaping your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He glances down at the mess on his hand, the streak of white across his cargo pants. You snicked through the phone. "Clean yourself up, sweetheart. Don't want you fallin' asleep all sticky."

A soft laugh. "Sure."

The line clicks, and he's left in the dark again, the truck's stale air pressing in. But his skin is still humming, your voice still ringing in his ears. He looks at the picture one more time before he swipes it closed, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

A voice comes through his ear, “Fushiguro. Heres a small reminder. I can hear you in the fucking truck. With the earpiece in your ear,” Shiu’s voice laced with anger. It took everything in Toji not to laugh.

“Next time, take it off!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hope you enjoyed the show.”

SUGURU ♡ GETO

The phone buzzes against the polished wood of the altar.

Suguru doesn’t look at it immediately. His fingers are steepled beneath his chin, dark eyes half-lidded as he listens to the droning supplication of a new follower, some desperate woman with trembling hands and a story about curses that he’s already forgotten.

The phone buzzes again.

He exhales slowly through his nose, patience thinning. His long fingers slide across the altar’s surface, retrieving the device with a languid grace that makes the woman’s voice falter mid-sentence. She watches him, wide-eyed.

The screen glows.

His thumb stills over the image, veins in his hand tightening as he registers what exactly he’s looking at. The new robes. The ones he had tailored for you personally, silk that cost more than these monkeys' monthly offerings. But you’ve adjusted them. The obi sits too low on your hips, loosened. The collar hangs open, exposing the slope of your shoulder, the pale column of your throat, the shadowed valley between your breasts where the fabric pools like spilled wine.

Miss you.

Suguru’s jaw ticks. His tongue runs along the inside of his teeth.

He looks up at the woman kneeling before him, her mouth still moving around words he no longer hears.

“We’ll continue this another time,” he says, and there’s no room for argument in his voice. The woman scrambles to her feet, bowing so low her forehead nearly touches the tatami.

He doesn’t watch her go. His attention has already returned to the phone, thumb dragging across the screen to pull the image up again.

He waits until the shoji screen slides shut, until the footsteps fade down the corridor. It rings once before you pick up. He hears the breath you let out, the way it shudders at the edges.

“Suguru.”

He leans back in his seat, the carved wood digging into his spine, and lets his voice drop to that register he knows makes your thighs press together. “Texting me in the middle of my work.”

“You said you liked the robes.” Your voice is light, “I wanted to show you how they fit.”

“Is that what you were doing?” His fingers trace the screen again, tracing the shape of your hip through the silk. “Looked to me like you were doing something else.”

He hears the soft exhale of your laugh, the rustle of fabric. He imagines you shifting where you’re sitting— probably his bed, he thinks.

“I was thinking about you,” you say.

“Yeah?” His thumb presses the speaker icon, sets the phone down on the altar beside him. The image stays up, bathing the dark wood in soft light. “Tell me exactly what you were thinking.”

“I was thinking,” you start, and your voice has dropped, gone husky in that way that makes his cock twitch against his thigh, “about the last time you had me in these. How you said the purple made my skin look…”

He remembers dragging the silk up your thighs, bunching it around your waist. You’d gasped when he pressed his mouth to the inside of your knee, your hip, the soft swell of your belly. He’d worked his way up slowly until you were trembling apart beneath him.

“I remember,” he says quietly.

“Suguru.”

“Did you get the robes wet, sweetheart? After you took that picture?” His hand moves without thinking, palm pressing against the front of his trousers. “Tell me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting. You’re moving, he realizes. Settling back against something. He can picture you perfectly, hair spread across his pillows, one hand still holding the phone, the other drifting down your stomach.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Continue,”

“I thought…” Another rustle. Your voice goes tighter. “I thought you might tell me to touch myself. Since you’re not here to do it.”

Suguru’s eyes close. His thumb circles the head of his cock through the fabric, pressure just shy of enough. He can feel himself hardening fully now, pressing against the confines of his robes.

“Put the phone down,” he ordered. “Prop it up. I want to see you.”

He hears the clatter of the device being set against something. He picks his phone back up, switches to video.

You’re sprawled across his bed like an offering, the robes still half-on, half-off, the silk bunched around your hips in dark purple waves. One of your hands is pressed flat against your stomach, fingers just grazing the waistband of the robes. The other is beside your head, fingers curled into the sheets.

“There you are,” he purrs, watching you shiver at the sound of his voice. “Look at you. Gorgeous.”

“Come home,” you whisper, voice begging for him and his attention.

“Soon.” He traces your shape on the screen, wishing it were skin. “You know I would if I could. But I’ve got business to finish here.”

“More important than me?”

The question is teasing, but there’s an edge to it. He knows this game. “We have a mission.” He undoes the ties of his robes, letting them fall open. Watches your eyes go wide and dark on the screen. “But you’re the one who sent me that picture in the middle of my meeting. So you can wait a little longer, can’t you?”

You swallow. “How long?” There's a hint of disappointment underneath your tone.

“Patience, love, patience.” His hand wraps around his cock, gives it a slow, deliberate stroke. “Now. Show me what you were doing before I called.” Your thighs press together, but your hand slides lower, fingers hooking into the silk. You push the fabric aside, bare and wet, the folds of your cunt glistening in the dim light.

“That’s it.” His voice has gone rough, thumb swiping over his tip, collecting leaking pre-cum. Your fingers slide through your slick, spreading it, and a sound escapes your throat that he feels in his own. His hand moves faster, matching the rhythm you’re starting to build.

The room is silent except for the wet sounds of you touching yourself, the soft hitch of your breath, the occasional groan he lets slip.

“Wish that was me,” he says, watching your fingers circle your clit. “Wish I were there. I’d spread you open on this cock so slow you’d feel every inch. Make you beg for it.”

“Sugu-” Your voice breaks, hips lifting off the bed. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please talk to me. Tell me what you’d do.”

He leans forward, eyes fixed on the screen. His hand hasn’t stopped moving, the rhythm steady and punishing.

“I’d start with that pretty mouth,” he says, voice low. “Been too long since I felt those lips around me. Let me fuck your throat until you’re crying.”

Your moan is desperate, fingers pressing harder against yourself. He sees your hips start to rock, chasing the pressure. “Then I’d put you on the bed. Just like that.” He gestures at the screen, at your sprawled, open body. “Spread these thighs wide and bury my face between them. Wouldn’t stop until you came on my tongue.”

You hummed, nodding your head to his words.

“Then, I’d press my cock up against your pussy.” He strokes himself faster, watching your face contort, watching your body arch off the sheets. “Fill you up so good. Make you take all of it. Every fucking inch. You’d be so tight around me, wouldn’t you?"

Your hand is a blur between your legs now, your other hand gripping your breast, pinching the nipple. Your mouth is open, sounds spilling out.

“You’d come for me,” he continues, his own breathing harsh, his hips starting to thrust into his fist.

“I’m so close-”

“Let go.” His voice cracks on the words, authority fracturing into something rawer. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Wanna watch you fall apart. Wanna see it.”

Your body seizes, mouth falling open in a soundless cry, and he watches your thighs clamp shut around your hand as you come, shaking, shuddering, your whole frame drawn tight as a bowstring before releasing.

The sounds you make are broken, beautiful, and he lets himself tip over the edge after you with a groan he doesn’t bother to stifle, spilling across his stomach, his hand, the edge of his robes.

“Mhm.” He’s cleaning himself with a cloth from the altar— he’ll have to have it sent to you later, but that’s for future Suguru. “I'll be back soon.”

You roll onto your side, face appearing in the camera, flushed and satisfied, and so beautiful it makes his chest ache. “I'll be here.”

“Good.” He picks the phone up and brings it close to his face. “Once our mission is complete, we will have all the time in the world."

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

KENTO ♡ NANAMI

Before he dies from exhaustion, he will curse his boss for eternity. Like any work trip, promises of a relaxed environment were thinly veiled lies of overtime.

Occasionally, you would send pictures of things you did throughout the day; those were the things keeping him going and preventing him from tossing his laptop out the window and quitting.

Nanami's tie hung loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

His laptop glows dimly on the desk, spreadsheets bleeding into one another until they're nothing but a blur of numbers behind his tired eyes.

He should be reviewing the projections for tomorrow's meeting. Should be answering the emails that have piled up in the last three hours. Instead, his phone is in his hand, thumb hovering over the last image you sent.

It came through forty-seven minutes ago, a brief respite from the drudgery of quarterly reports. The notification had been innocuous enough-just your name, the little camera icon.

He'd opened it expecting another photo of the things to do that day, or the view of a cafe, or perhaps a plate of food you were enjoying without him.

You're angled in front of you, similar to a selfie you sent yesterday, except then you had more clothes on. You were wearing the set he picked out two weeks ago, the one he'd handed to the sales associate without a hint of embarrassment because he already knew exactly how it would look on you.

The lace is the color of dark wine, delicate straps cutting across the swell of your breasts, the matching panties sitting low on your hips. You've posed with one hand, making a small heart with two fingers.

His hand moves before his mind catches up, palm pressing against the front of his trousers where his cock has already begun to stiffen. He exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tight, and doesn't bother to stop himself.

He leans back in the chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and drags his zipper down with deliberate care.

His cock springs free, half-hard but thickening by the second as his gaze returns to the screen. He wraps his fingers around the base, a low sound catching in his throat at the familiar weight of his own hand.

The photo stares back at him, your eyes through the mirror meeting his, and he swipes his thumb across the head, spreading the bead of moisture already forming there.

He remembers unwrapping you from a similar set. How the lace had bitten into your skin, how you'd shivered when he'd traced the edges with his fingers before his mouth.

His grip tightens, fist moving in a slow, punishing rhythm. His hips twitch upward, chasing the friction, and his head falls back against the chair. The ceiling tiles blur above him, but he doesn't need to see the picture anymore. It's burned behind his eyelids, the curve of your breast, the delicate jut of your hipbone.

His breathing turns ragged, each exhale punched out of his chest. His thighs spread wider, heels digging into the carpet as he fucks up into his fist with increasing desperation. The slick sound of it fills the quiet room, obscene and urgent, and he doesn't care. Doesn't care about the meeting tomorrow, about the emails, about any of it.

His thumb swipes over the tip again, and he groans. He's close, the pressure coiling hot and tight in his gut, and he imagines it's your pussy wrapped around him, your body riding his cock. He imagines the way you'd look down at him through your lashes, how you'd let him guide your pace.

His cock pulses, a thick string of precome dripping down his knuckles, and he uses it to slick the way, his strokes turning sloppy, relentless.

His orgasm hits him like a freight train, his hips jerking off the chair as he spills over his own fist in hot, pulsing stripes.

His jaw is clenched so tight it aches, a broken sound rattling in his chest as he works himself through it, every muscle in his body locked taut until the last wave finally, mercifully passes. Even then, it wasn't enough.

When his torment ended, and he finally made it back home. Arriving through the door, you body pressed up against him, hugging him tightly.

You lips pressed against his cheek, littering his face with your soft lips. He'd never admit he came to your picture till nothing came out.

“I missed you so much, Ken!”

“Missed you too,” he smiled, breathing on your neck. Lifting you from your feet, letting your legs wrap around his hips. You giggled into the air, fingers combing through his hair.

He loved your laugh, but he needed to feel you, be inside you, and hear your moans in his ear. He imagined it enough; he needed the real thing.

SATORU ♡ GOJO

The house was quiet, a thing you once thought impossible in the Gojo household. However, with the absence of its head, the silence was unbearable.

You missed your husband dearly, out saving the world, yet you couldn't help but be jealous of the curses who got to see him more than you did.

You carried around one of his blindfolds that he thought went missing when really you stole it, hoping it would make him stay home, even just for a minute longer. You brought the black fabric to your nose, breathing in the remnants of him.

You needed him so bad. Your fingers slipped under your panties. Pretty lace ones that you hoped to show off to Satoru when he got back, that was supposed to be 4 hours ago, and you were growing impatient.

The black fabric pressed against your face, and you inhaled. Your fingers found the wet heat between your thighs before your brain could catch up. The lace of your panties was already damp. You dipped beneath the waistband, middle finger sliding through slick folds, and your eyes fluttered shut.

The memory of him was a bruise you kept pressing. The way his huge hands would bracket your hips, fingers denting the soft flesh there. The cocky slant of his smile right before he did something stupid. His weight, always too much and never enough.

You circled your clit, slow at first. Your hips rolled up to meet your own hand, and it wasn't right— his fingers were longer, thicker, knew exactly how to curl to make you scream, but you worked with what you had. A soft whine escaped your throat. You were so wet, just from the thought of him.

You pushed two fingers inside, gasping. Not enough. Your palm ground against your clit as you fucked yourself on your own hand, imagining it was him. The way he'd hold you down, one palm flat against your lower back, the other wrapped in your hair. The way he'd laugh, his cock twitching inside of you before he unloads himself inside you.

"C'mon," you breathed, not even sure who you were talking to. Yourself. Him. The empty room. "C'mon, 'Toru, please-"

Your fingers worked faster, sloppier. You were close, that familiar heat coiling tight in your belly, your thighs beginning to tremble. You bit your lip hard enough to taste copper, riding your own hand like it was him, like he was finally fucking home, filling you the way you needed.

Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed the increase of cursed energy, objects falling from the walls, and space crackling around the space, stilling the particles in the air.

You froze, eyes snapping open.

Satoru loomed over you, his blindfold missing from his face and his pale hair falling into his eyes. He tilted his head, slow and deliberate, watching your fingers still buried inside your soaked cunt. A mocking grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"My poor baby."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You tried to pull your hand away, embarrassment flooding through you, but he caught your wrist. "No, no," he murmured, pushing your fingers back down. "Don't stop on my account. You were so close, weren't you, baby?"

Your mouth went dry. "You- you teleported?!"

"Mmh." He leaned down, and the warmth of his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. "Just got finished. Was checking on you through the cameras, thought you were sleeping." His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you shuddered. "Imagine my surprise when I see my pretty wife saying my name. So lonely without me, I know, I know." He holds your head against his, caressing your hair.

"Don't-"

"Shh." His finger pressed against your lips, trailing down your chest, down to your lace waistband. "I was wondering where that blindfold went."

Your cheeks burned. "I missed you."

"I can see that." His eyes dropped to where your fingers were still buried in your cunt, your slick coating your knuckles. He let out a low whistle. "It's on me, should've come home on time, I'm sorry."

"You were supposed to be home four hours ago, Satoru."

He wrapped his hand around your waist. "Four hours," he repeated, bringing your fingers to his mouth. His tongue darted out, tasting you. "Apologies won't do."

He sucked your fingers clean. You watched, transfixed, as his eyes stayed locked on yours. When he pulled them out, a string of saliva and your own slick connected his lips to your knuckles.

"Up."

You didn't move fast enough. He grabbed your hips, pulling your body on top of his. The blindfold slipped from your neck, and he caught it, tucking it into your bra with a soft laugh. His cock pressed against his pants, a heavy, insistent line of heat that made your mouth water.

"Four hours," you repeated. "Do you know what four hours feels like when you're not here?"

He opened his mouth to answer, something that would make you want to hit him, but you were already moving. Your hands fumbled with his belt, impatient. The metal clinked, and you yanked it free, tossing it somewhere across the room where it hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

"Eager much?" he breathed, but the amusement in his voice was strained. His hips lifted into your hands as you worked his pants open, and the sight of him springing free made your cunt clench around nothing.

He was already leaking, a pearlescent bead of precome glistening at the tip, and you wanted to taste him so badly it hurt.

But you needed him inside you more.

You didn't bother with your panties; you just pushed them aside, the fabric pulling against your slick folds, and positioned yourself over him. His hands found your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

"Look at you," he murmured, and his voice had gone low, rough. "So fucking wet for me. Were you thinking about me the whole time?"

You sank down onto him in one motion.

The stretch was everything. Your body opened for him like it had been waiting, like it had been starving, and the sound you made was embarrassingly loud— a punched-out whimper that turned into a moan as he filled you.

His tip pressed against your cervix, exactly what you craved, and your hands braced against his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

Satoru's head fell back against the headboard. His grip on your hips tightened, and you watched his jaw clench, the muscles in his neck corded with restraint.

"Fuck," he gritted out. "Fuck, baby, you're-"

You didn't let him finish. You lifted yourself, slow, savoring the drag of his cock against your walls, and slammed back down.

His eyes snapped to yours, "Oh, we're doing it like that?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your voice had fled, replaced by guttural need, so feral that it clawed up your throat and came out as a broken moan. Setting a brutal rhythm that made his thighs tense beneath you. Each time you took him to the hilt, his hips would twitch up to meet you, and the impact sent shockwaves through your spine.

"I missed you, too, honey." His voice was strained. His hand guided your movements, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise, the other gripped the headboard. The wood was cracking under his fingers, but neither of you was worried about it.

"Y-you're always fucking l-late," you groaned, your hand cupping his chin, fingers pressing into his jaw harshly.

"I-I know, I know. I'll be better for you, baby." He promises, hips rutting against your ass. You leaned forward, palms flat against his chest, and rode him harder. The angle changed, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes, and you cried out. The sound echoed off the walls of the too quiet house, and you didn't care.

"You said-" Your voice broke as you slammed down again, tears welling up in your eyes. "You said four hours, Satoru. Four hours of nothing. No texts, no calls, just-" His thumb found your clit, and whatever you were going to say dissolved into a sharp gasp.

"You're right," He circled the swollen nub, and your hips stuttered in their rhythm. "Tell me how wrong I am." The wood behind him snapped in half, splintering above him. Instinctively, he holds up the board, pushing it against the wall.

"You're a-always lying, just to get what you want. I was worried about you, Satoru. I can never know if you're okay. " Your thighs were burning, slick with sweat and your own arousal, and every nerve in your body had condensed to the place where he was splitting you open.

He nodded in agreement, accepting the words falling from your lips. "And you broke the fucking headboard!" You rode him faster, harder, your nails raking down his chest. The muscles there tensed beneath your fingers, and he let out a sound half laugh, half groan.

"It's my fault," he breathed. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Yes," you sobbed. "'Toru!" His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back. The sting made your cunt clench around him, and he felt it, his hips bucking up into you with renewed force.

"That's my girl," he growled, and the praise was a drug, flooding your system with heat. "Gonna take what you need, yeah? Ride me, wifey."

You nodded, or tried to— his grip on your hair made it difficult. Your hips were moving on their own now, a frantic, punishing rhythm that had his cock punching into you again and again. The headboard started to knock against the wall, a steady thump-thump that matched the beating of your heart.

You fell forward with a startled cry, your chest hitting his, and Satoru's arms wrapped around you immediately. You walls constrict around his cock as you came. He followed soon after, cum painting your insides white.

The headboard hung at a sick angle, one side completely detached from the frame, and you stared at it with wide eyes.

"Baby," he breathed, and when you lifted your head to look at him, his expression was wild. "Baby, that was the hottest thing you've ever done."

Before you could respond, he flipped you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, one huge hand bracing beside your head, the other finding your thigh and hitching it up around his waist. The new angle drove him even deeper, and your back arched off the bed.

"'Toru- "

"Shh." He pulled back, his gaze fixed on where your bodies were joined. "My turn. You've got to play. Now I'm gonna take what's mine." His fingers dipped into your bra, pulling the black blindfold from between your tits. "Wear this too." He wrapped the fabric around your eyes.

"Oh," His cock twitches alive inside of you. "That's really hot, wifey."