Warnings: explicit sexual content, missionary, established relationship, domestic intimacy, parenthood, interrupted sex, new parents struggles, emotional intimacy, soft gojo satoru, dad gojo, mutual pining, frustration/denial
Synopsis: After months of rushed moments and quiet nights, you and Satoru finally get some time alone. This time, you’re not stopping. …until you have to.
It’s 10 PM.
You put your baby down about two hours ago.
You love him with everything you can give—but not everything about this stage can be romanticized.
He’s eight months old now, and while the sleepless nights aren’t as brutal as they were in the beginning, they’re still there.
The early wake-ups.
The crying.
The restless shifting.
Sometimes he needs something… sometimes he just needs you.
Or his dad.
And all of that has changed things—more than either of you expected.
Especially your sex life with Satoru.
You and Satoru have been starving for each other for months now. Wanting, waiting, stealing what little moments you can.
But most of the time, it’s rushed.
Quiet.
Careful.
Always listening for a sound from the other room.
Never like this.
So today, you both decided—almost wordlessly—that you needed a night.
A real one.
You let your baby crawl around for as long as he wanted. Satoru played with him for hours, laughing, lifting him, keeping him entertained until even he started to look tired. You both put everything into it—every ounce of energy—until your little one was completely worn out.
And it worked.
By the time you held him for his bath, his eyes were already closing, his body going soft in your arms.
You finished carefully. Gently. Changed him, tucked him in, and stayed there for a moment longer than necessary—watching. Waiting. Making sure he was really, deeply asleep.
A small smile crossed your face when you realized he was.
Finally.
And now—
You’re beneath Satoru.
Completely naked, your body wrapped around his like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment for weeks. Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, holding him deep inside you—exactly where you need him. Your hands move along his back, nails grazing his skin every time he presses closer, harder against you.
His arms are planted on either side of your head, caging you in.
Close.
Too close.
His face right next to your ear—so close you can hear and feel every warm breath and every quiet moan against your ear, uneven, just like yours.
“God…” he murmurs, his voice low and strained. “You’re squeezing me so tight…”
“I can tell you really missed this, didn’t you… mmh?”
The way he says it sends something straight through you.
“Y-yeah…”
It barely comes out.
Because it’s true.
So painfully true.
All those times before—quick, quiet, rushed moments in between responsibilities… they were never enough.
You didn’t just miss this.
You missed him.
Missed the way he takes his time. The way he looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world. The way he doesn’t rush, doesn’t hold back—just lets himself have you, completely.
You didn’t just miss having sex with Satoru—
You missed him making love to you.
You wanted this.
To feel him.
To stay here.
To not have to worry about anything else for once.
Just him.
Gojo lifts his face from your neck, breath warm, uneven, like he’s trying to ground himself—but when he looks at you, it only makes things worse.
Your eyes meet.
And neither of you looks away.
Not even for a second.
There’s something in his gaze—dark, hungry, but soft at the same time. Like he’s been holding himself back for too long… and he’s right on the edge of losing that control.
Then he leans in and kisses you.
It’s wet. Messy. Deep.
A kiss full of heat—but underneath it, you can feel it. His love. His sincerity. The way he’s been holding all of this in just as much as you have.
“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, voice breaking between kisses and soft moans. “I love you so much.”
The way he says it makes your chest tighten. Makes everything feel heavier—hotter.
Your mind is already hazy, your body burning, overwhelmed by everything you’re feeling. All you can do is moan softly at every word he says.
“Wanna cum, baby?” he asks, his voice uneven as his pace picks up, his eyes locked on yours.
Your legs tighten around him immediately, pulling him closer like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.
“Y-yes… I wanna cum so bad toru… please…”
You can barely get the words out. They fall apart between your breaths, your voice trembling in a way that only makes him react more.
“Okay, baby…”
His breath turns heavier as he drops his head back into the space between your neck and shoulder, pressing closer.
Like he can’t even look at you anymore without losing it completely.
You cling to him tighter, your nails digging deeper into his back when the rhythm changes—unexpected.
Not faster.
Harder.
Deeper.
Each movement feels deliberate now—like he’s trying to reach somewhere inside you that only he knows how to find.
Gojo lets out a strained moan at the feeling of your nails dragging against his skin. Marks you know will still be there tomorrow. Marks you’ll probably feel guilty about later… but not right now.
Not when he’s moving like this.
Each thrust hitting so deep it knocks the breath out of you.
“Toru… fuck—don’t stop, just like that…”
Your voice trembles as you pull him closer, your face brushing against his hair, soft and warm against your skin.
He nods against you, moaning, completely focused—completely devoted—to making you feel good.
You’re so close.
Too close.
It’s building too fast now, your thoughts slipping, your body taking over, chasing that edge.
And Satoru feels it too.
God, he feels it.
He’s even worse.
He’s been holding back from the start—ever since he first pushed into you and felt how wet you were, how tight. He almost lost it right then.
Now it’s barely contained.
Your thoughts blur, your body taking over, chasing the feeling.
You tilt your head and start kissing his neck—slow at first, then more desperate.
You know exactly what it does to him.
And it works.
Gojo’s moans break louder now, more unfiltered, every kiss pulling something raw out of him.
The room fills with the sound of both of you—breaths, moans, the tension that’s been building for weeks finally spilling over.
You’re both right there.
Right at the edge.
And then—
A sound.
Neither of you notices it.
The small monitor on the shelf flickers on.
At first, it’s just soft sounds—tiny sobs, quiet babbling.
Easy to miss.
A small whine. A broken little noise through the monitor.
Neither of you stops.
Not yet.
Not when you’re this close—when it’s right there.
But it comes again.
Louder.
Sharper.
Until it turns into full crying.
Real crying.
That’s when it hits you both.
And it cuts through everything.
Like a slap back to reality.
Your body tenses.
His does too.
Both of you freeze—breathing hard, hearts racing, still pressed together like neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.
You turn your head toward the monitor.
And there he is.
Your baby, standing in his crib, holding onto the railing, crying.
For a second…
You both hesitate.
Like you’re silently asking the same question:
Can we ignore it? Just for a little longer?
But then—
“Da… da…”
That small, broken voice through the monitor.
And that’s it.
Everything crashes back down.
Gojo lets out a quiet, frustrated breath, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing for just a second.
“…I’ll go,” he murmurs, voice still uneven.
You let out a soft, breathless laugh—half frustration, half disbelief.
Of course.
Of course it happens now.
Right now.
When you were that close.
He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling away, and the loss of him feels immediate—almost cruel after everything you were just feeling.
Both of you let out a quiet groan at the same time.
You’re still frustrated—of course you are—but there’s something almost funny about it.
The timing.
It’s like he knows.
Like he always knows exactly when to interrupt.
He gets up quickly, wiping himself off with a tissue before pulling on his pants, already halfway focused on the other room.
You stay there for a second, catching your breath, then glance at the monitor.
You watch him walk in, pick your baby up, holding him close, gently rocking him.
And you can’t help but smile.
Seeing him like that—soft, careful, patient.
Dad mode.
You push yourself up, cleaning yourself off before slipping into his shirt.
You pull the sheets off the bed—the same ones that were just tangled around you—and toss them into the hamper. Replace them with a clean, light blanket.
Because you already know.
There’s no finishing tonight.
You head toward the baby’s room.
The door is slightly open, a warm yellow light spilling through the gap.
You push it open slowly, the soft creak making Satoru turn toward you.
He looks… tired. A little frustrated. A little helpless.
“He calms down, but the moment I put him back, he starts crying again,” he says quietly, still rocking him.
Your baby is pressed against his chest, his tiny face tucked into his shoulder. Still sniffing, still whining—but calmer.
You smile.
“Why are you so red?” you tease softly, a small laugh slipping out.
Satoru blinks, a little confused.
“…I don’t know,” he admits, letting out a quiet laugh. “I think I’m embarrassed… I feel like he knows what I was doing.”
That makes you laugh a little more, softer this time.
Your baby starts settling down again, his breathing evening out.
“Come on,” you say gently. “Let’s take him with us.”
Satoru nods and follows you back to the bedroom.
You both get into bed, placing your baby between you, safe and warm.
He curls slightly against Satoru’s arm as you gently play with his tiny hands.
Within minutes, he starts drifting off again.
“…If you want, we can continue in the morning,” Satoru whispers, glancing from the baby to you.
You smile, meeting his eyes.
“Not in front of him,” you whisper back.
His eyes widen slightly.
“No—no, of course not,” he says quickly, lowering his voice even more. “We could… go to the living room.”
You pretend to think about it, just to tease him.
“…Okay.”
Your smile is soft.
His is brighter.
But the next morning…
You don’t get to.
Because your baby wakes up before both of you.
And just like that—
Maybe next time.
…if you’re lucky.
──────────────────────
Divider by: @saradika-graphics
Art: @daumammam on X
a/n: today I learned something: if I don’t write an idea down immediately, it just disappears 😭 I still have my “Sukuna and You as Bartenders” draft and it’s basically done… but I got stuck on the ending and now I don’t even know how to finish it anymore—anyway I’ll deal with it later 💀
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
──────────────────────Pairing: Husband Sukuna x Wife reader
Warnings: angst, arguments, jealousy, toxic behavior (early relationship), strong language, hurt/comfort, reconciliation, happy ending, apology, character growth, soft sukuna (eventually), relationship development, (maybe a litte ooc sukuna but idc)
Synopsis: You still remember the first time you almost lost him. Back when Sukuna didn’t know how to apologize—only how to hurt you and make up for it in all the wrong ways. Now, years later, with rings on your fingers and a life built together…. one fight is all it takes to bring those memories back. The difference is—this time, he finally knows what to say.
──────────────────────
“I don’t want you in the room!” you shout, your voice breaking as you turn and storm toward the bedroom, tears already blurring your vision.
“It’s my room too!” Sukuna snaps back from the kitchen, his voice louder now, sharper—like he’s throwing the words at your back.
Just minutes ago, everything had been fine.
You were both in the kitchen, talking about your day like always—casual, easy, comfortable.
Until he mentioned it.
An “accident” at work.
He said it like it was nothing. Like it was funny. Like it didn’t matter.
But it did.
Because the way he described it—if things had gone even slightly differently…
He could’ve gotten seriously hurt.
Or worse.
And you—being his wife, loving him the way you do—you couldn’t just laugh it off like he did.
So you told him.
Told him he needed to be more careful. That he couldn’t keep brushing things off like that. That not everything was a joke.
And that’s when it shifted.
Fast.
He rolled his eyes. Called you dramatic. Said you were overreacting.
And something in your chest snapped.
You called him insensitive. Reckless. Said he didn’t think about how his actions affected anyone else—how they affected you.
After that, it just kept going.
Words thrown back and forth.
Sharper. Meaner.
Too fast to take back.
And before either of you realized it—
You’d both said things you didn’t mean.
Things that hurt.
Now your chest feels tight, heavy, like it’s caving in on itself.
You’re tired.
So tired of fighting.
Tired of feeling like he doesn’t take anything seriously.
Tears spill over as you reach the bedroom, your hands shaking as you push the door open.
Behind you, you hear his footsteps—fast, coming after you.
He reaches for your hand.
But you pull away.
Don’t even let him touch you.
You step inside—your room, that’s what it feels like right now—and turn back just enough to glare at him.
“I don’t want you here!” you shout, your voice cracking completely now. “Go figure out somewhere else to sleep!”
And before he can say anything—
You slam the door.
Hard.
The sound echoes through the apartment.
For a moment, everything goes quiet.
Too quiet.
You don’t even make it two steps before your legs give out, and you collapse onto the bed, burying your face into the pillow as the sobs finally break free.
They come out messy.
Uncontrolled.
You clutch the sheets, your whole body shaking.
How can he still be like this?
After everything.
After all this time together—
How can he still act so careless? So… stupid?
Like none of it matters.
Like you don’t matter.
Your chest aches.
Your head pounds.
And eventually, the exhaustion catches up to you.
The anger.
The tears.
The heaviness sitting in your chest.
It all blurs together until your cries quiet down… your breathing slows…
And somewhere in the middle of it all—
You fall asleep.
───
Sukuna’s possessiveness—his jealousy—has always been a problem.
You can’t deny it… sometimes, you like it.
The way he looks at you like you belong to him. The way his presence alone makes people back off.
But there are moments—too many—when he crosses the line.
And when that happens, he doesn’t just take it out on you.
He takes it out on everyone.
You’ve been dating for a year and a half.
Last night, Sukuna took you out to dinner.
The place was beautiful—dim lights, soft music, a warm, romantic atmosphere. Everything felt perfect.
Or at least… it should’ve been.
But something had been bothering him the entire time.
The waiter.
From the moment you sat down, the guy wouldn’t stop looking at you.
Smiling too much.
Leaning a little too close when he talked.
His body always angled toward you—never Sukuna.
And the questions?
Always for you.
“What did you think of that?”
“Did you like it?”
“Would you prefer something sweeter?”
Like Sukuna wasn’t even there.
And the worst part?
You kept smiling.
Polite. Sweet. Completely unaware.
Don’t you see it?
Don’t you see the way that idiot blushes every time you look at him?
Sukuna’s jaw had been tight the entire night.
Irritation simmering. Growing.
And instead of letting it go—
He opens his mouth.
Big mistake.
The waiter comes back, carrying a tray of desserts.
He walks straight to your table.
Straight to you.
“Would you like to try one of our desserts?” he asks, smiling again—only at you.
You brighten instantly, leaning forward just a little to look at the options.
You don’t notice Sukuna.
You don’t notice the way his patience finally snaps.
The tray is placed in front of you.
Not between both of you.
Not shared.
Right in front of you.
And that’s it.
That’s all it takes.
“Hey,” Sukuna says, voice cold enough to cut. “Why are you only asking her?”
You freeze slightly, turning to look at him, caught off guard by his tone.
The waiter blinks, a little confused, a little nervous.
“My bad—would you also like to order one?” he asks, shifting awkwardly.
But Sukuna doesn’t let it go.
He stares at him.
Sharp. Unforgiving.
“Do you like my girlfriend?” he asks bluntly, crossing his arms.
Your eyes go wide.
“Ryo,” you say quietly, warning him.
“What?” he snaps, not even looking at you. “He’s been fucking you with his eyes all night.”
The restaurant feels quieter.
Like people are starting to notice.
The waiter’s face turns red instantly.
“No—no, I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood—” he stammers, clearly embarrassed.
“Really?” Sukuna cuts in, his voice harsher now. “Because I’m pretty sure you were staring at her tits for a solid ten seconds just now. Why don’t you go check out some other girl’s ass instead?”
“Ryomen!” you snap, your face burning with embarrassment.
People are definitely looking now.
You can feel it.
“Excuse him,” you say quickly, grabbing a random pastry from the tray just to end it. “I’ll take this, thank you.”
The waiter nods stiffly, avoiding both of your eyes.
“You’re welcome,” he mutters before walking away fast.
Silence falls over the table.
Heavy.
Awful.
You stare down at the dessert, your hands tightening slightly as your vision blurs.
Tears build in your eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, your voice shaking as you finally look up at him.
Sukuna frowns.
“What’s wrong with me? He’s the one staring at you.”
“So what?!” you snap. “You can’t just make a scene like that! Just because you think something!”
“Didn’t you feel it?” he snaps. “The way he was looking at you? Or what—” his voice dips, quieter, sharper, “you liked it, didn’t you?”
A pause.
“Letting him stare at you like that…acting like you weren’t eating it up.”
Your breath catches.
That one… that one hurts.
You don’t respond.
You just look away, blinking fast, refusing to let the tears fall in front of him.
Fuck.
He went too far.
He knows it.
“I want to leave,” you say quietly, wiping the corner of your eye.
“Aren’t you going to eat your—” he starts.
“I want to leave. Now.”
Your voice is soft.
But final.
Sukuna exhales sharply through his nose.
“…Fine.”
He pays quickly, asking for the dessert to go.
The rest is silent.
Painfully silent.
You walk ahead of him to the car, not even waiting for him to open the door like he usually does.
You just get in.
Close it.
The drive back is worse.
No music.
No talking.
Just the quiet sound of your sniffles every now and then.
And Sukuna hears it.
Every single one.
Sees the way you wipe your eyes when you think he’s not looking.
I really fucked up.
By the time you reach your apartment, you’re already out of the car before he can even turn it off.
You don’t say a word.
You just walk.
Fast.
“Hey—” he calls, getting out quickly and catching up to you.
He grabs your arm, turning you toward him.
And when he sees your face—
Red eyes.
Smudged mascara.
That look.
That distant, hurt look.
His chest tightens.
You stare at him.
Waiting.
Say something.
Fix it.
But he doesn’t.
He just… stands there.
So you pull your arm away.
Turn around.
And walk to your door.
He follows, a step behind, still silent.
Still thinking.
Still too late.
You open the door.
“We’re fine… right?” he asks.
And that—
That does it.
You turn back, disbelief flashing across your face.
Is he serious?
After everything?
“Sukuna… fuck you.”
Your voice is sharp.
Cold.
You walk inside—
And slam the door right in his face.
The sound echoes in the hallway.
Sukuna stands there for a second, frozen.
Then runs a hand down his face, dragging it through his hair with frustration.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Then louder—
“Fine! I’m leaving!”
But even as he turns—
It doesn’t feel like winning.
Now… you’re convinced this fight is the end.
You and Sukuna have argued before—plenty of times.
And it always ends the same way.
He shows up with gifts. Flowers. Expensive shit you never asked for. Pulls you into kisses, into his arms… into bed.
Anything—everything—except actually saying sorry.
The idiot doesn’t know how to apologize with words.
And maybe… part of this is your fault too.
Because for a whole year, you let it slide.
Every time.
He’d show up with that stupid bouquet, that stupid look on his face, and you’d forgive him before he ever had to say it.
Before he ever had to mean it.
But not this time.
You’re tired.
Tired of the way he talks. The way he snaps. The way he hurts you and then pretends it’s nothing.
So now you’re thinking about ending it.
If you’re even still together.
Because the truth is… you don’t want to see him.
And you don’t plan to.
Days pass without a word from him—
Until, of course, he goes back to what he does best—buying his way back in.
Buys things. Sends flowers. Anything but actually apologizing.
He starts sending flowers to your work.
Again.
And again.
Messages.
Are you still mad? Can I see you? Please talk to me.
You ignore most of them.
The only thing you reply is:
Stop sending flowers to my work.
And that’s it.
Sometimes he calls.
You watch the screen light up with his name…
And let it ring.
Until it stops.
Until the silence comes back.
A few days later, your friends drag you out for drinks.
You didn’t want to go at first—but anything is better than sitting alone with your thoughts.
You laugh. You drink. You try to forget.
Somehow… Sukuna finds out.
Probably one of his friends saw you.
Or a coworker.
Doesn’t matter.
What matters is your phone suddenly blowing up.
ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SEEING SOMEONE ELSE??? Who are you with?? Answer me.
You stare at the messages, annoyed.
Then type back:
None of your business. Remember? I like attention from other men.
You roll your eyes.
Seriously? The idiot still has the audacity to start something.
Three dots.
Then—👍
Pathetic.
You’re literally surrounded by your friends… and the only guy there is gay.
A week passes.
And you’re done.
Done waiting. Done dragging this out.
So you decide—you’re going to call him.
End it properly.
Say the words.
Be done.
But before you can even dial—
There’s a knock on your door.
You freeze.
Who the hell…?
You walk over slowly… and open it.
Sukuna.
Standing there.
Holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
Of course he is.
Your eyes drop to them for a second…
Then back to him.
And just seeing his face—
Makes something in your chest twist.
Anger.
“What do you want?” you ask flatly.
“…Can I come in?” he says.
You hesitate.
For a moment, you almost say no.
But then you step aside.
He walks in.
You close the door behind him.
He sets the flowers on the counter.
And when he turns back to you—
There’s something different.
His usual confidence… isn’t there.
He looks—
Nervous.
You stay quiet.
So does he.
Until—
“I brought you flowers…” he says, glancing toward them. “I know you like these.”
You follow his gaze.
“…Yeah. I see.”
Silence again.
It stretches.
Too long.
Too heavy.
So you break it.
“It’s good you came,” you say coldly. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Something in his expression shifts.
Concern.
But you don’t stop.
“I’ve been thinking these past few days… and I think it would be better if we just—”
“No, wait—” he cuts in quickly.
You scoff.
“Wait? For what, Ryomen?” Your voice sharpens. “So you can fuck me and hope I change my mind? I’m tired of your shit.”
He flinches.
Just slightly.
“You’ve never apologized,” you continue, your voice breaking as tears gather in your eyes. “Not once. Not properly. And I’m so fucking tired of it.”
You hate that you’re crying.
You hate that you can’t stop.
He steps closer.
You step back.
He steps closer again.
“Just… go away,” you whisper, looking anywhere but at him. “I don’t even know why you came.”
But he’s already in front of you.
His hands come up—hesitant for once—as they cup your face.
Wiping your tears.
You freeze.
He opens his mouth.
Nothing.
Closes it.
Tries again.
And this time—
The words come out.
“…I’m sorry.”
Your breath catches.
“…I’m sorry for being an idiot,” he continues, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “For not controlling my mouth. For hurting you.”
You stare at him.
Shock hits you so hard it almost hurts.
Because he said it.
He actually—
Said it.
And suddenly you’re crying harder than before.
He frowns, a little panicked now.
“Hey—why are you crying harder? Didn’t I say it right?” he asks, genuinely confused.
You let out a shaky laugh through your tears.
“No—no, you did,” you manage. “You did say it right.”
He exhales, relieved, and wipes your tears again.
Gentler this time.
“…Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.
You nod.
And he does.
It’s not rushed.
Not hungry.
Not like before.
It’s slow.
Careful.
Full of everything he couldn’t say before.
Love.
Regret.
Relief.
And forgiveness.
Something you thought you’d never get from him.
Something you had already given up on.
But it’s here.
Finally.
⸻
And from that day on—
Sukuna learns.
Not perfectly.
Not overnight.
But he learns.
To say sorry.
To think before he speaks.
To hold you without trying to fix everything with touch alone.
Your relationship still has its ups and downs.
Of course it does.
But now—
The good outweighs the bad.
By far.
Because now—
There’s a ring on your finger.
And one on his.
Three years now.
A home.
A life together.
You feel something gentle against your shoulder.
“Baby…”
A familiar voice.
You stir slightly, still half asleep.
“Sweetheart.”
You finally blink your eyes open.
“…Mm… what… what time is it?” you mumble into your pillow.
Sukuna is crouched beside the bed, one hand softly holding your face.
“It’s already night,” he says, smiling faintly as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
“…Why are you up?” you ask sleepily.
He hesitates.
“…I wanted to apologize,” he admits. “But you were already asleep… and then you started moving… like you were dreaming.”
He leans closer, resting his arms on the edge of the bed, bringing his face level with yours.
Close.
Warm.
You stare at him, still foggy… until it clicks.
The fight.
The kitchen.
Oh.
He notices the shift in your eyes.
“You were right,” he says quietly. “I can be inconsiderate. Selfish.”
His thumb brushes your cheek.
“I’ll try to be better. But… I’m really sorry for yelling at you. And for what I said.”
You look at him.
Really look at him.
And smile softly.
“…You’re forgiven.”
He smiles back—small, but real—and leans in to kiss you.
Short.
Gentle.
“God… your face,” he murmurs, touching under your eyes. “I’m sorry I made you cry baby.”
You frown slightly.
“What’s wrong with my face?”
He huffs a quiet laugh.
“Your eyes are swollen.”
You close your eyes, smiling.
“…Do I look bad?”
He studies you for a second.
“…Nah. Never sweetheart.”
That makes you smile wider.
“…Can I sleep with you?” he asks.
You nod.
And he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you into him.
Warm.
Secure.
His arm wrapped around your waist.
His face tucked near your neck.
The Sukuna from back then…
Would’ve never imagined this.
Would’ve never believed he’d become this soft.
This careful.
This in love.
But now?
Now he knows exactly how to hold you—
Without breaking you.
He’s not the same man who stood outside your door back then—
the one who didn’t know how to say sorry.
──────────────────────
Art: Veil Manga by Kottteri (I just painted the nails am I allowed to that😭?)
a/n: sooo I was listening to Sabrina C. — “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night” and that’s where this whole idea came from. I was actually planning to write this with another character, like Gojo… but IDK WHY Sukuna has been stuck in my head lately😭. I literally can’t write anything without putting him in 😩 which is kinda funny because I loveee Nanami so much and still haven’t written anything for him… but yeah, I hope you enjoy this <3
Warnings: 2.5k, married life, domestic fluff, clingy husband!sukuna, mild sensuality, humor, sleepy cuddles, spring heat, reader is suffering (affectionately)
Summary: You love your husband. You really do. But when the AC is broken, the heat is unbearable, and Sukuna insists on sleeping wrapped around you like your life depends on it… loving him gets a little more difficult.
But just a little.
You hate sleeping with Sukuna in the summer.
Winter, thought, it’s a completely different story.
You love it when winter comes around.
The cold gets so bad that not even the thickest blankets can fully keep you warm, which means you always end up needing your husband’s body heat just to survive the night. And Sukuna, being the secretly good husband he is, never complains. If anything, he enjoys it a little too much.
He loves when you curl into him half-asleep and use him like your own personal heater.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
But summer?
Summer is pure hell.
The kind of heat that puts you in a bad mood before noon. The kind that leaves your skin sticky all day, ruins your makeup in record time, and makes it impossible to ever feel truly clean or comfortable. You hate the way heat clings to your body like it has a personal problem against you.
That’s the thing about cold, you can fix cold.
Blankets. Hoodies. Socks. Hot coffee.
Heat, on the other hand, is evil.
There’s no escaping it unless the AC is working overtime, and even then, the heat still feels personal.
Still…
you can’t fully hate summer.
Because summer also means seeing your husband shirtless far more often than you should be allowed to.
Out in the yard trimming the hedges.
Washing your car.
Working out in the backyard.
Doing absolutely anything while half-naked and looking like some cruel, unfair fantasy specifically designed to test your patience.
And honestly?
That only makes the heat worse.
Because Sukuna, your idiotic, unfairly attractive husband sleeps half naked.
And to make matters worse, he refuses to sleep without practically draping his entire body over yours.
Which would be cute…
if he wasn’t built like a damn oven.
It’s only April.
It’s supposed to be spring.
Cool breezes. Light weather. Cute café dates in a garden.
But no.
The temperatures have been disgusting since mid-March, like summer decides to show up early just to make your life harder.
Tonight is the hottest night of the week.
Every fan in the house is on.
The windows are open as far as they’ll go.
And still, the heat feels unbearable.
“God, it’s so hot. I feel so disgusting,” you groan from the living room couch, half-melted into the cushions with a fan pointed directly at your face and body.
From across the room, Sukuna looks up at you.
“I already called maintenance,” he says, walking over to your spot before shamelessly taking the fan away from you. “They’re coming tomorrow morning to check the AC.”
“Ryomen!” you gasp, immediately sitting up in offense.
He looks at you like you’re being dramatic.
“It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”
He tucks the fan under one arm and jerks his chin toward the bedroom.
“Agh, I don’t even want to move,” you complain dramatically, dropping back onto the couch and lazily lifting one arm toward him in silent demand.
Sukuna stares at you for a second before the corner of his mouth pulls into a small, knowing smirk.
“Sure.”
He grabs your arm and pulls you up with just enough force to make your stomach flutter.
You hate how much you like it when he manhandles you like that.
Especially looking the way he does right now, shirtless, skin warm and golden under the dim house lights, pink hair slightly messy, tattoos stretching over every inch of his body like he was built in a lab just for you.
Honestly, he’s half the reason you’re overheating in the first place.
You follow him toward the bedroom, dragging your feet a little before mumbling, “I’m gonna rinse off before bed. I want to feel clean.”
“Fine, I’ll wait for you” Sukuna says.
But not before his eyes drag slowly over your body one last time as you peel your top off on the way to the bathroom.
You step into the shower and turn the water nearly freezing.
The cold hits your skin and immediately makes you sigh in relief.
You rinse off quickly, lathering your body with your sweet smelling body wash, the one Sukuna always claims he hates, even though you’ve caught him pressing his face into your neck enough times to know he’s a fucking liar.
By the time you step out, you already feel better.
Fresh.
Clean.
You change into a thin black tank top with no bra because with this kind of heat, absolutely not and a pair of tiny black sleep shorts that look more like cute boxer briefs than actual pajamas.
When you walk back into the room, Sukuna has somehow managed to set up three fans.
Two are pointed directly at your side of the bed.
One is aimed at him.
You have to bite back a smile .
Because as much as he pretends not to care, he’s doing that just for you.
And considering he naturally runs hotter than you do, it’s actually stupidly sweet that he’s willing to suffer a little just so you can sleep comfortably.
Sukuna is already stretched out on his side of the bed, watching some random sports game on TV.
The second he sees you come out, his eyes flick over you once slow, quiet, before he reaches for the remote and turns off the TV.
You climb into bed with no blanket, no sheet just your pillow and the desperate hope that tonight won’t be miserable.
“Feel better woman?” Sukuna asks, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on one hand to look at you.
“Yes,” you say with a satisfied smile, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “I feel fresh and clean.”
You kiss him again.
Then once more, slower and more passionate this time.
“Now let’s sleep so we can wake up early for the maintenance guys tomorrow,” you murmur softly against his lips.
“Goodnight.”
You turn off the lamp, roll onto your side with your back facing him, and get comfortable.
For about three seconds.
Then you feel it.
That giant, ridiculously warm hand of his slowly sliding over your waist.
And then the grip.
Pulling you right back toward him.
“Ryoo, don’t hug me,” you whine immediately, grabbing his forearm and trying to peel it off of you.
Sukuna actually lifts his head a little, visibly confused.
“What?” he asks, his voice still deep and rough in that annoyingly calm way of his. “Why not?”
“You’re too hot,” you complain, turning your head enough to look at him over your shoulder.
A crooked smile appears on his face.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed baby,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss somewhere between your neck and ear, “but you’re also hot as fuck.”
A small laugh escapes you before you can stop it, and you quickly push at his shoulder.
“That’s not what I mean, idiot.”
He only hums against your skin, clearly not taking you seriously.
“Your body is literally burning,” you say, dragging your eyes dramatically over his entire shirtless body.
Sukuna sighs like you’re deeply inconveniencing him and drops back onto his pillow, folding his arms behind his head.
“Fine. Fine, I won’t touch you woman.”
He closes his eyes for a second before cracking one open again to look at you.
“But once the AC gets fixed, you’re letting me hold you again, right?” he asks. “This isn’t permanent?”
You laugh quietly.
“Of course not,” you say, settling back into your side of the bed. “It’s not like I enjoy sleeping without my husband crushing me.”
That earns the smallest smile from him.
And then, finally, you both fall asleep.
Or at least…
you try to.
At some point in the middle of the night, you start to feel hot again.
Not regular hot.
Miserably hot.
The kind of heat that makes your skin feel sticky and your patience evaporate in your sleep.
You blink awake slowly.
And immediately realize why.
Sukuna has somehow wrapped himself around you again.
You’re practically pinned to his chest, tucked into his side of the bed like some kind of oversized body pillow he refuses to sleep without.
You roll your eyes.
Still half asleep, you carefully untangle yourself from his arms and shift back toward your side of the bed before closing your eyes again.
A while later, it happens again.
That awful heat.
That suffocating warmth all over your body.
You wake up slower this time, only to find his arms around you again.
Except now, somehow, he’s the one on your side of the bed.
You stare at him in sleepy disbelief.
It’s honestly kind of adorable.
He’s probably doing it unconsciously.
His body probably just looks for yours in his sleep without even thinking about it because that’s what he’s used to—finding you.
Which is sweet.
Very sweet.
But also…
does this man seriously not feel any heat at all?
With the patience of a saint, you carefully slip out of his hold again, this time moving slowly enough not to wake him.
Then, very quietly, you climb out of bed and tiptoe out of the room.
You gently shut the bedroom door behind you and glance back one last time, only to see Sukuna completely sprawled across your side of the bed like he owns it.
Typical.
Trying not to make too much noise, you open one of the living room windows and turn on every fan you can find.
Then you collapse onto the couch.
The leather feels wonderfully cool against your skin.
You rest your head against the armrest, close your eyes, and let the breeze from the fan and the open window wash over you.
It feels amazing.
Cool.
Quiet.
Perfect.
Within minutes, you’re asleep again.
This time, much deeper.
Much better.
Hours must pass.
Because the next time you start to feel heat creeping over your body, you don’t wake up right away.
At first, it only registers in your sleep.
A slow warmth from your feet all the way up to your head.
But it’s strongest around your stomach.
You frown slightly in your sleep and try to shift.
Try to move.
But can’t.
Your body feels… trapped.
Sleepily, you force your eyes open.
And there he is.
That idiot somehow follows you all the way to the living room.
Sukuna is asleep on top of you.
Not fully, but enough to completely cage you in.
His head is resting against your chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other tucked possessively around your side, and one of his legs is hooked lazily over your hip like he’s physically making sure you can’t escape him again.
You stare down at him in disbelief.
Then exhale through your nose.
“Baby…”
No response.
“Babe.”
Nothing.
“Ryo,” you whisper a little louder this time, looking down at his sleeping face.
Still nothing.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t wake up.
Doesn’t even pretend to feel guilty.
Completely defeated, you let your head fall back against the couch.
Well.
This is your life now.
You lift one hand and gently thread your fingers through his soft pink hair, smoothing it back from his face.
You’re definitely yelling at him tomorrow for being so clingy.
For following you.
For squishing you all night with his stupid overheated body.
You’ll definitely scold him in the morning.
But as you look down at him sleeping so heavily, holding onto you like his body just doesn’t know how to sleep without yours
you can’t deny it.
You really, truly love seeing him like this.
──────────────────────
thank you for reading ♡
a/n: tbh I didn’t like this, I feel I couldn’t explain it or worded the way it was in my mind but even though I tried my best ♡ also I wrote this bc here were I live the temperatures had been so highs the past weeks which is so crazy😩
Warnings: 18+, nsfw, explicit sexual content, first time doing (69), dom!sukuna, oral (f & m receiving), power dynamics, teasing, control, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling, AUsukuna¿ (idk)
Sypnosis: It was your idea, Sukuna just made sure you meant it and once you say the words out loud…there’s no going back.
──────────────────────
“Get on top.” This time, it’s not just firm.
It’s a command.
Sukuna doesn’t move from where he’s stretched out across the bed—completely naked, completely at ease in a way that only makes him more dangerous. One arm rests behind his head, the other draped lazily at his side… like he already knows you’ll obey.
And that alone makes your chest tighten.
You’re still kneeling at the edge of the bed naked too, but frozen.
“Don’t make me repeat myself baby,” he adds, voice dropping lower.
A warning.
You swallow.
“I’m trying,” you mutter, your voice barely steady. “I just—this is a lot.”
His gaze sharpens instantly.
“You weren’t thinking that when you suggested it,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips
A shaky breath leaves you, fingers curling slightly against your thighs.
“It looked easier in my head” you admit shyly.
That earns a quiet, amused smile from him.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I can tell.”
Before you can say anything else, he moves—just enough to reach you. His hand slides around your waist, firm, grounding.
Not asking.
Pulling.
You gasp softly as your body is dragged closer.
“Stop overthinking,” he murmurs against your lips.
And then he kisses you.
Slow at first.
Controlled.
Like he’s setting the pace… teaching you exactly how this is going to go.
Your body reacts immediately—melting into him, your hands finding his chest, gripping slightly as the kiss deepens, heat pooling low in your stomach.
When he pulls away, it’s only barely.
His thumb presses under your chin, forcing your gaze back to him.
“Look at me.”
You do.
And for a split second, his expression softens—but his grip doesn’t.
“Tell me you want it.”
Your breath catches.
“I do…”
“Say it properly.”
Your stomach flips.
“I want this,” you whisper, more certain now.
That’s all he needs.
He lays back again, pulling you with him, hands sliding down to your hips—firm, guiding, controlling.
“Good,” he mutters. “Come here, baby… get comfortable.”
Your body moves under his direction—slow, careful, painfully aware of every inch of contact. Your hands press against his abdomen as you shift over him, hovering, adjusting your cunt on top of his face—trying not to think about how exposed you are.
But you don’t fully sit.
Not yet.
He notices.
Of course he does.
He doesn’t say anything at first.
He just watches.
His grip tightens slightly.
“Relax,” he says, quieter now—but still commanding. “I’ve got you.”
And somehow… that makes it worse.
Or better.
“See?” he murmurs, that teasing edge slipping back in. “Not that hard.”
You glance back over your shoulder, cheeks burning.
God.
This is—
Too much.
Too close.
But then his gaze drops again.
And you feel it.
He’s looking directly to your pussy you can’t even see it—but you feel it.
Your breath hitches.
“Fuck…” he exhales, low and rough, his tongue dragging slowly over his lips. His fingers slide between your thighs, tracing lazily, deliberately—finding exactly where you’re most sensitive, your clit. “Acting all shy… and you’re already soaked, baby.”
A soft sound escapes you before you can stop it.
“Ryo…”
Your stomach tightens sharply.
“Now sit properly,” he murmurs, voice darker now. “I wanna taste you.”
And you obey.
Slowly lowering yourself—
A soft whimper slips out as your body reacts instantly.
His hands grip your hips, holding you there.
Your breath stutters when you feel the warmth of his breath against you.
Too close.
Too intense.
Sukuna’s hands slide to your ass, spreading, holding you exactly where he wants you.
Control.
Complete control.
Then his tongue drags slowly against you entrance.
Starting low.
Deliberate.
Unhurried.
The he moves his tongue to your clit, doing slow circular movements.
Your back arches instantly from how wet and warm his mouth feels, a broken moan leaving your lips as your body tries to pull away from the sudden intensity—but his grip tightens.
“Don’t move,” he murmurs against you, voice vibrating through your body. “Stay right there.”
You shiver hard.
Your hands press against his stomach, trying to steady yourself.
“F-fuck… baby, you’re going too fast…” you gasp—but your body betrays you completely.
Because instead of pulling away—you move one hand behind you.
Your fingers tangle into his pink hair, gripping.
Pulling him closer to your pussy.
Your hips start moving on their own.
Messy.
Needy.
Desperate.
A sharp slap lands against your ass, making you gasp loudly.
He pulls back just enough, breath uneven, a thin string of saliva still connecting.
“Don’t forget,” he says, voice rough, almost breathless, “you’ve gotta do your part too, baby.”
Your mind is foggy, overwhelmed—you’d almost forgotten.
Why you suggested this position in the first place.
Your hand drops back down, leaving his hair as you shift, lowering your body further against his, arching more this time—your chest pressing against his stomach, your breath uneven as your face ends up right in front of his big, hard cock that makes you salivate.
“Now,” he mutters, voice darker, hungrier—
“Use that mouth.”
And this time—there’s no hesitation.
You place one hand on his bare thigh, the other wrapping slowly around his cock.
Warm.
Already slick at the tip.
A small, satisfied smile pulls at your lips.
You start slow—just the head, tracing soft circles, barely giving him what he wants.
“Fuck…” Sukuna exhales, breathless, his voice rougher now as his mouth returns to your cunt, picking up where he left off—but less controlled this time.
You feel it immediately.
The vibration.
The way it pulls a soft moan from your throat without permission.
Your hand slides down to his base, then back up, twisting slightly each time.
Testing.
Watching.
Learning exactly what makes him react.
A sharp smack lands against you other cheek.
“Don’t tease,” he mutters against you, grip tightening on your hips. “I want your mouth.”
Heat rushes through you instantly.
This time, you listen.
Your lips press against the tip, slow, deliberate—kissing, tasting—before your tongue traces around it, collecting every drop of precum.
You take your time.
Dragging your tongue down his length… then back up again.
And then slowly—you take his cock into your mouth.
Even now, you’re not fully used to his size.
Your breath stutters as you adjust, your lips stretching around him—
Sukuna groans.
Low.
Broken.
His hips thrust into your mouth—just once.
But it’s enough.
Your throat tightens as he pushes deeper, forcing a soft choke out of you.
“Fuck… that’s it baby.”
The praise hits harder than it should.
You start moving, slow at first—your mouth working from top to bottom, your hand at the base, twisting slightly with every motion.
Your eyes begin to water every time he brushes the back of your throat—but you don’t stop.
You don’t want to.
Your free hand slides lower, cupping his balls, playing with them gently—and that pulls another strained sound from him.
“Y-yeah… just like that…” he groans, his mouth still buried between your folds—but now faster.
Messier.
Hungrier.
There’s more saliva now.
More desperation.
One of his hands leaves your ass—only to return lower.
His ring and middle finger push into your pussy without warning.
A sharp, loud moan tears out of you, your whole body jolting.
Your rhythm breaks instantly.
Your mouth falters.
Your hips move on their own, chasing his fingers to fuck yourself harder.
“A-ah—baby…” you gasp, trying to keep going, but it’s getting harder—
Too much.
Too fast.
A sharp smack lands again.
“Focus, sweetheart,” he says, voice tight, breathless. “I’m almost there too.”
You whimper, your body tightening around his fingers, his mouth, his voice.
Your mind is already going hazy.
Your movements lose their rhythm—sloppier now, more desperate.
“Ryo…” you moan, your hips moving faster against his fingers while your own picks up speed around his cock.
“Don’t stop,” he cuts in immediately—almost in a whimper.
More direct now.
More affected.
That alone sends something through you.
Your movements sharpen again—less shy, more needy.
You suck him deeper, faster, your tongue working, your hand moving in sync.
I saw this reel on Instagram of these Brazilian guys explaining a sex position to one of their friends and god, that position was so hot., and the first thing that came up to my mind was TOJI.
I’m gonna try to explain it the best I can because, honestly, I have no idea what’s the name of this position.
Okay, so imagine regular spooning… but upgraded.
You’re both laying on your sides with your back pressed against his chest, but instead of just staying in a normal cuddle position, he starts opening your body up.
One arm slides under your neck so he can hold your tit that is pressed closer to the bed, while with his other hand he gently lifts your arm the one facing the ceiling and hooks it around his neck, opening up your chest and giving him way more access to kiss, bite, and suck the other boob.
Then he guides one of your legs (the leg facing the ceiling) over his hip and thigh so your body is more exposed, and with his now free hand, he reaches to your cunt to play with your clit while he’s fucking you.
So basically,
it’s spooning, but sluttier… and way more intimate.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: After one too many drinks at a formal event, you and your fiancé, Satoru, end up tangled in bed, flushed, dizzy, and far too gone to function properly. What starts as a heated moment quickly dissolves into laughter, teasing, and the kind of love that still makes the two of you feel like hopeless teenagers.
──────────────────────
You’re dizzy, your whole body burning with warmth from all the alcohol you’d consumed at the formal gathering you attended only to accompany your beloved fiancé, Satoru.
You hadn’t meant to drink that much.
But one glass turned into two, then three, and then far too many to count.
Now, you find yourself sprawled across your bed, completely bare, your legs parted as your discarded clothes lay scattered somewhere throughout the massive house you and Satoru had chosen to build your future in together.
And Satoru?
He’s in no better condition than you.
Despite you clearly telling him to stop drinking because he was far too weak to handle alcohol, here he is—just as dizzy, just as flushed, and just as ruined.
He’s completely naked too, kneeling between your thighs with one knee pressed into either side of your hips. His perfectly styled hair—the same hair he’d spent nearly as much time fixing as you had spent getting yourself ready from head to toe—is now hopelessly messy. His cheeks are painted a deep rosy red that trails all the way down his neck, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol… or from what the two of you are doing now.
Satoru’s head is tipped back slightly, his lips parted as soft, needy sounds spill from him.
His cock is nestled between your slick folds, moving lazily, rubbing back and forth in a slow rhythm that has your breath catching in your throat with every pass against your clit. The slick warmth between you connects with each drag, making everything feel even more intoxicating.
It feels too good.
And yet…
Time seems to be moving unbearably slow.
At first, you thought it was just the alcohol distorting your senses.
But no.
Satoru has genuinely been doing the exact same movement for nearly five whole minutes.
You slowly push yourself up onto your elbows for a better look, your eyes lifting to his face.
His head is thrown back, his eyes shut tight, and he’s moaning softly to himself, completely lost in the sensation.
The alcohol must have hit him way harder than you thought, because he clearly hasn’t realized he’s been absentmindedly grinding against you for the last five minutes straight.
A smile tugs at your lips.
It’s not every day you get to see the strongest man alive in such a state.
Your gaze drifts down between your bodies again, watching the scene in front of you—and honestly?
It feels way too good to complain.
But then a thought crosses your mind.
And once it does, it’s over.
You bite your lip to keep from laughing, your shoulders trembling as you try not to interrupt him. But of course, Satoru notices immediately.
How could he not?
Your laugh is one of his favorite sounds in the world.
“W-What’s wrong?” he asks between shaky breaths, his voice low and breathless.
The second you look at him—really look at him—you completely lose it.
You burst into laughter, falling back onto the bed as it spills out of you uncontrollably. You clutch your stomach, your eyes watering from how hard you’re laughing.
Satoru only stares at you for a second, confused—but not upset.
If anything, he looks at you with that same soft, lovestruck expression he always wears whenever you laugh too hard over something ridiculous.
He braces his arms on either side of your head and leans down until his face is hovering just above yours.
Now you’re face to face.
And you’re still laughing.
You turn your face away, trying to hide how hard you’re losing it, but Satoru just follows you with a fond smile.
“What are you laughing at, baby?” he murmurs, voice warm and teasing. “Hm? Did I do something wrong?”
There’s no hurt in his tone.
If anything, he looks like he’s seconds away from laughing too, simply because your laughter is contagious. It’s become some sort of shared reflex between the two of you after spending far too much time together.
He presses a kiss to your cheek.
Then another.
Then to your jaw
Then down to your neck—your second weakest spot.
But even that isn’t enough to stop your laughter.
So with a quiet chuckle, he gently turns your face back toward him and starts peppering your entire face with kisses until you’re squirming beneath him. Finally, he captures your lips in a deeper kiss, one that’s meant to calm you down—
—but somehow, it only makes both of you laugh harder.
By the time the kiss breaks, your laughter has softened into breathless little giggles. You wipe at the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, still trying to catch your breath.
“It’s b-because—” you start, barely able to speak through your laughter.
Satoru waits patiently, smiling down at you.
“It looks like a hot dog.”
For a second, he just blinks.
“…What?”
You laugh again, covering your mouth.
“Look,” you say, trying and failing to stay serious. “It looks like a hot dog.”
Still looking completely lost, Satoru glances down between your bodies.
The second he sees it, he freezes.
Then his shoulders start shaking.
And before long, he throws his head back and starts laughing too.
“Oh my God,” he breathes out between laughs. “It really does.”
That’s all it takes to send you both spiraling again.
You laugh until your stomach hurts, until your chest aches, until you can barely breathe.
Satoru practically collapses on top of you after that, pulling you into his arms and pressing countless little kisses all over your face while he laughs right along with you.
And honestly?
You don’t know if it’s just the alcohol making the two of you act like complete idiots…
Or if this is simply who you both are when no one else is around.
You think it’s the second one.
The alcohol has probably only amplified what’s already there.
Because even after years of dating, and now being engaged, with only a few months left until your wedding…
The two of you still act like hopelessly in-love teenagers.
And truthfully?
That’s one of the things you love most about him.
One of the many reasons you said yes to Satoru seven months ago.
──────────────────────
thank you for reading ♡
a/n: This is my first time writing something, so it might be a little messy hehe. But I have so many ideas that I haven’t really found here, so I thought… why not start writing them myself?Also, English isn’t my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes!
Hello everyoneee 😭 sorry for being a little inactive these past few days
I went to a concert this weekend and I wasn’t home, so I’ve just been out sightseeing and doing tourist stuff hehe 😭 BUT I’m back now which means I can finally continue writing fanfics again 🫡
ALSOOO we reached 500 followers??? which is actually insane to me 😭 thank you guys so much for liking my content and supporting my silly little thoughts/fics. I’m genuinely really grateful and I hope I can keep making more stuff you can enjoy 😉💕
