certifiedsmutreader - Tumblr blog

certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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If you think Sukuna is a menace now, just imagine that man as an ex-boyfriend. He was already an asshole to begin with, but now that man's feelings are hurt and he's going to make it known.

All the usual spots that you go to— the gym, your favorite grocery store, your favorite bakery? He’s now a regular there. You can't even escape him by going to Sephora because that's where he gets his cologne now.

Peace at home? No. He's signed you up for literally every single religious organization that's local to you. Scientology. Jehovahs Witness. The Catholic Church. And more. Literally each and every one within a 20 mile radius. They blow up your phone. They knock on your door at 8:00 am on a Sunday morning.

It doesn't stop there. He buys over a hundred keys, with your phone number attached to it, with a little note that says "please call if missing", and scatters them throughout the city.

After the 18th call in a day, you change your number.

Any new guys you go on dates with? He befriends them. You don't even know how he does it, he barely had friends when you two were together and now he's suddenly the most friendliest man on the planet.

You get a flat tire and you go to your nearest tire shop to get it patched up, only for them to send you to Sukuna's shop. You try a different one, they referred you to Sukuna's shop too. In the end you manage to patch it up yourself, but then the next week, you start your car and it sounds weird.

The tow truck guy tells you your catalytic converter is missing??? He also refers you to Sukuna's shop.

None of it scares you, you know he's not going to hurt you. He's just throwing a fit right now.

And when you finally come storming into his shop, cussing him out and telling him how fucking pathetic he is, all he does is grin and says, "I missed you too, princess."

And somehow an hour later he has you bent over his desk, making you remember what getting fucked by him feels like so you can finally stop being a brat and take him back.

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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CRIMINAL!SUKUNA . . . who got your name tatted on his bicep a week after getting back together since your break up, your name written in a pretty font with thick black lettering. he’s so proud of it when he shows you, the tattoo covered in a clear wrap with his cocky smirk when he sees your shocked reaction. his body is covered in tattoos, and you’ve always been one to appreciate them as you gently trace them with the pads of your fingers in a comfortable silence. so, getting your name tatted was a must for sukuna. he’d eventually get more little reminders of you in black ink littered all over his body, and despite the light scolding you’re giving him, you can’t help but smile at his commitment and love for you. he’s never been afraid to show his love and he always loving you so loudly that everyone can see it. he was also pretty quick to mention getting your initial on his cock, so he can ‘think of you whenever he jerks himself off’ but you were quick to shut that down. he doesn’t need to be that committed. (you’re secretly jumping up and down at how whipped you have this man)

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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nanami kento is a hair puller when you suck his dick.

he's loving and sweet, but when it comes down to sex, he loses composure and oftentimes forgets that he is nanami kento.

when you pop your tongue out like a puppy begging for a bone, and your doe eyes look up to him while your hands fumble his belt, trying to rid of it, he sighs deeply.

you had to admit that you were inexperienced in being intimate, nanami was your first in everything and that never was a problem with him.

he pulls your hair to guide your head in hitting all the right spots. grunts and gruffs linger in the air as his chest heaves heavy when you use your tongue to tease his tip.

he would praise you as he pulls his cock out of your mouth and rests it on your tongue, a thumb swiping your saliva and his precum decorating your lips.

“ thats good sweetheart, yes, just like that.” he says, petting your head before gliding to your cheeks to run continuous comforting circles in contrast to your struggling moans.

“ so good for me, huh? I've got you princess, don't worry.” and when you choke out and cry, he pulls back and kisses your lips.

“ i'm sorry love, let's do it better now.” and hes back to shoving his fat plump cock in your throat.

he's the kind of guy who ruts his hips into your head when he's close.

and you loved every single part of it.

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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thinking abt how gojo's obsession with taking photos of his friends is bc he's never experienced it before and yuji's obsession with taking photos is bc he knows he'll never experience it again

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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cw: smut, screaming, unprotected p in v, toji being..himself. 18+ mdni!

toji fushiguro likes to make his girls scream.

usually it’s no trouble—he’s pretty experienced in the bedroom, obviously. he’s got a record of thirty-two seconds he set a while ago, as terrible as it sounds.

but you—his pretty new girlfriend—are giving him some trouble.

it’s been almost an hour. he’d done everything—oral, different positions, even that thing with his fingers that’s sure to make someone scream. yet you’re quiet, clinging onto his neck, only sounds falling from your lips are small gasps and itty bitty moans.

for your first time together, toji wanted to take things slow— but it’s not good enough. so, toji switches it up yet again.

he manhandles you to flip over, shoving a pillow under you—something he’d read a while ago and had yet to try out. his hands push your knees into your chest, keeping you open, before sliding his cock back in painfully slow.

you don’t complain or make any noise again, you just rest your hands on his big shoulders and hold on. then toji begins—sliding all the way out and shoving his length right back in.

that elicits the first loud moan you’d given him. if he didn’t know any better, toji would’ve thought he’d been doing a bad job this whole time.

and he thrusts again, slow, yet hard, punctuating each thrust with a sharp stop. you go quiet again, closing your eyes and focusing on the sensation of him—and he hits it.

“oh fuck.”

your voice comes out trembling, a little whiny, yet nothing close to a scream. toji picks up his pace, thrusts still calculated and mean. he hits your g-spot so accurately and aggressive, the sensation bubbling up inside you quickly.

toji sees it, heightened senses be damned, his eyes locking onto your expression. you’re biting your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, digging your nails into his shoulder. you’re like a balloon about to pop, pumped too full you can’t help what comes out of your mouth.

“fuck! fuck you!” you scream, eyes shooting open wide when toji penetrates your g-spot again, rudely.

“aw, that ain’t nice, baby,” toji coos, knowing you don’t mean any harm in your yelling.

you’re just overwhelmed by pleasure, he gets it—toji knows he’s good. he can feel your thighs trembling, your cunt spasming around him every time he hits that sacred spot so deep inside you.

“oh my god—ugh—shit!” curse after curse falls from your lips, only causing toji’s grin to get wider and wider. your moans aren’t pretty in any sense—each noise is ugly and visceral and raw.

toji is eating it up.

“let it out,” he rasps with a laugh, angling his hips to pound even harder into your tight walls.

your fist clenches together and you bang the side of it on toji’s hard bicep. he doesn’t stop, not even after all your exclamations and yelling, because he knows you don’t want him to.

toji doesn’t want to, either—he won’t be satisfied until you lose your voice.

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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pillow princess ♡ ryomen sukuna

cw: smut mdni, pillow princess gf, dirty talk

୨୧

You don’t even know when you started crying.

Somewhere between the second orgasm and the way he spat the words “You were made for this” against your cheek, your body just gave out. You’re trembling, brain foggy, limbs limp, everything soaked and sore and so damn sensitive you can barely breathe.

And Sukuna?

He’s smirking like the devil incarnate, palm spread low over your stomach, his hips still grinding slow and mean between your thighs. "Look at you," he laughs, eyes glowing with pride or maybe possession. "You’re not even fighting it anymore. You were made to be ruined."

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Not even a plea. Not even a whimper.

He leans down, face close, his hand slipping up to your throat. not squeezing, just resting there, feeling your pulse stutter against his palm.

"You like it like this," he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. "Being nothing but my little pillow princess. My pretty little fuckdoll."

The words make your hips twitch. Pathetic.

His grin sharpens. He sees it. Feels it.

"So easy. So desperate. So perfectly mine." He spits the last word against your lips before dragging his tongue across your bottom one. You moan into it, broken and sweet, and he just groans, hips thrusting deeper with no mercy now. "You don’t even need to move. I’ll do it all. I want to do it all. Just lay there and take it."

You do.

You take everything he gives you — the stretch, the sting, the endless stream of filthy praise and cruel teasing — because he wants you like this. Boneless. Useless. Pretty. and he's loving the way your fingers are trembling on his skin, scratching down his back but barely having enough strength to hold on

"I’ll fuck the thoughts right outta your head, baby. You won’t even remember your name by the time I’m done. You’ll only know mine."

And god help you — you already do.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: haven't posted for sukuna at all, also i fucking love the em dashes

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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thinking about how nanami’s personality does a whole 180 when he’s drunk.

sober nanami is all quiet control, buttoned-up tension, and low-effort elegance. he moves with purpose. speaks in perfect timing. never lets himself slip.

but drunk nanami?

drunk nanami is a mess.

not tipsy. not buzzed. drunk.like shirt unbuttoned three buttons down, tie hanging out of a back pocket, eyes heavy and glassy as he stares at your mouth mid-sentence

he gets flirtyand not suave, calculated flirty. he’s all breathy “you always look this good or is that just the gin talking?” while leaning against your shoulder like you’re gravity itself

he gets handsy rubs your thigh under the table tucks your hair behind your ear cups your face and whispers “you’ve got a really beautiful face, you know that?” like it’s the most tragic thing he’s ever said

he starts calling you pet names he’s never said sober

“sweetheart” “my love” “baby” like he’s trying it on for size and then immediately falling in love with the way it tastes in his mouth

and when someone else tries to flirt with you? he’s behind you in a second pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear, all low and unsteady “tell them you’re mine, darling. or I’ll have to make a scene.”

and the thing is? he means it. because drunk nanami feels everything too much and when you get him alone?

he kisses you like he’s drowning

his hands are everywhere not coordinated like usual no graceful unbuckling or perfect pacing he fumbles with your top and lets out a frustrated groan when it won’t slide off right

“fuck– sorry. I’m usually not–” “this drunk?” you offer, breathless

he laughs into your neck warm and soft and ruined “this clumsy.”

he pushes you onto the bed and climbs over you with a kind of heavy desperation his hands are shaking a little his breath is hot and uneven as he mouths at your chest, your throat, your jaw “need you,” he mutters “need you right now. can’t think. you’re all I want.”

he eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pleasure a little messy a little too eager tongue slipping just off-target until he finds the right spot and groans like it physically hurts to feel you twitch against his mouth

his fingers tremble when he slides them in slower than usual thicker, deeper

when he finally gets inside you he gasps actually gasps like he’s never done it before like he can’t believe you’re letting him

“shit, you feel good– so fucking good– please, sweetheart– please don’t let me mess this up.”

and it’s not the usual Nanami rhythm not smooth or paced he thrusts in shaky, desperate rolls of his hips brow furrowed, lips parted, hands gripping your waist like he needs the anchor

he’s so far gone so in it so full of whimpers and please and don’t stop looking at me

you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer because this version of him? this raw, undone, needy-drunk version? you love him too

he comes with his face buried in your neck muffled curse full-body shudder holds you through it like you’re the last soft thing he’s allowed to touch

the morning after? he wakes up with his head against your chest hair a mess shirt half on

and the moment he realizes what happened, he groans softly and covers his face with one hand “…did I talk a lot?” you grin, already pulling the sheet up around your chest

“you begged,” you say sweetlyhe lets out the softest, most horrified sigh and doesn’t make eye contact for three hours

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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Sukuna will never admit it, but he loves it when you drag him to the mall by force, your arm hooked in his, a mischievous smile on your lips. He grumbles, of course. Grumbling that it's a waste of time, that he has better things to do than hang around all afternoon shopping. But he follows you. Always.

Because he loves seeing you wander between the aisles, rummaging through the racks, giving him knowing glances before disappearing into a fitting room.

And he especially loves it when you choose pretty lingerie sets just for him. When you come out of the changing room, a little provocative, a little innocent, and ask him, "Do you prefer black or burgundy?"

He doesn't answer, trying to sound detached, even though he prefers both so he can rip them off you better. Hearing you sigh, "I'll take both," before taking his card as if it were your own, amuses him more than he should. When he looks at your back as you walk to the checkout, all happy.

He grunts, he rolls his eyes. But in his pocket, his attitude seems so nonchalant as he mentally notes what you bought, the sizes, the colors, the brands.

He claims to hate it.

But it's a well-kept secret: He always loves it when you forcefully drag him shopping, especially when you spend his money to look beautiful, especially for him.

a/n: i need sukuna rn- ⟢﹒ masterlist

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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you’ve been skipping meals.

toji sees it. doesn’t say shit at first. not his style. he’s not some nosy asshole who’ll ask what you ate for lunch or remind you to drink water every five seconds.

but he’s not blind either.

your face is thinner. hoodie swallowing you up more than usual. wrist bones sharper. you pick at food like it’s poison, sip coffee like it’s a meal.

he clocks it. every time.

and he lets it slide. once. twice. five times. maybe you’re just stressed, maybe it’ll pass.

but tonight, he watches you open the fridge. stare inside like you’re trying to convince yourself. standing there like if you focus hard enough, the hunger’ll go away.

he leans against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“you gonna eat somethin’ or just keep lyin’ to yourself?”

you freeze.

“i’m not lying,” you mumble.

he raises a brow. “yeah? fridge’s been full for three fuckin’ days.”

“i just.. haven’t been hungry.”

“bullshit.”

you flinch at that. he’s not here to coddle.

he pushes off the wall, walks over, closes the fridge for you. slow. quiet. heavy.

“you think i don’t notice?” he mutters. “you think i don’t see how your hands shake? how you ‘accidentally’ forget dinner, leave shit on your plate, say you ate earlier when i know you didn’t?”

you try to look away. he grabs your chin, not rough, just firm. makes you look at him.

“you think i’m stupid?”

your mouth opens. nothing comes out.

he clicks his tongue. lets go of your face. looks tired now, but not angry. just... done with the lies.

“i used to do the same shit,” he admits. voice low. “back when i fought for cash. had to stay a certain weight. thought starving meant control. strength.”

he laughs once, bitter.

“all it did was fuck me up. made me weak. angry. sick.”

you’re quiet. too quiet. eyes glossy. he hates that look on you.

“you got shit going on? fine. but don’t starve yourself over it. don’t treat your body like the enemy. it’s not.”

you still don’t say anything, just blink too fast. and when your shoulders start to shake, he finally pulls you in. arms wrapping around you, solid and warm.

you don’t cry. not really. just breathe against his chest like you haven’t breathed in days.

he holds you tighter.

“you don’t gotta talk,” he mutters into your hair. “not now. just don’t fucking lie to me. alright?”

you nod against him.

“good. now come sit your ass down.”

you do. legs tucked under you on the couch while he throws something together in the kitchen. nothing fancy. just enough to put something in your stomach.

he sets the plate in front of you. sits down next to you. doesn’t say a word while you eat, just stays close. hand on your thigh. grounding.

when you hesitate mid-bite, guilt creeping up your throat, he taps the side of your knee.

“don’t overthink it. it’s jus’ food. ain’t good or bad. it’s fuel.”

you nod again. quieter this time.

and when you’re done, when your plate’s empty and your shoulders finally drop, he kisses your temple.

“you’re not broken,” he says. “don’t act like you are.”

and somehow, you believe him

♡—————♡—————♡—————♡

A/N: i got the inspo from @sugussugar :>

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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satoru gojo—the strongest sorcerer—is an absolute softie when it comes to his wife.

the man could kill everyone in japan if he wanted to, yet when you're around, he's as dangerous as a kitten.

and that confused everyone around him.

how was it that even a murmur of your name would make the famous gojo gush and drop everything to talk about you? he could be in the midst of fighting a curse, but if his phone buzzes and your name is on the screen? that curse might as well accept its fate or be prepared for him to be on call with you for the remainder of the fight.

"toru, are you busy?" "not at all, baby—" his words would be cut off as the curse he was fighting attempted to land a hit on him, and the call would only fill with the sound of crashes before you realized what was happening. "are you seriously in the middle of a mission!?" your question remained unanswered for a second before you heard satoru laugh, "i mean, i was, but did you need something? money? sweets? a photo of your handsome husband?" "SATORU!"

it's clear to everyone that gojo is in love with you. he wouldn't just take a bullet for you, but rather a whole nuclear bomb if needed. he's willing to risk everything for you—even his job.

if he's in a meeting and you call him, he's picking up the phone no matter how many dirty looks he gets. what are they going to do about it? he's the strongest, but with the way he acts around you, you'd think otherwise.

his students have noted that every time you come into his classroom, he'd grin like a high schooler in love. he practically has heart eyes that you can see through his blindfold.

"gojo-sensei?" yuji's voice rang out in the classroom, "yes, yuji?" gojo's tone was filled with boredom as the man was leaning back in his chair—feet on top of his desk while he lifted a finger to pull back his blindfold. yuji was seen with megumi and nobara, and all three of them were pointing at the door. where you, his lovely wife, stood with a bento box. "you forgot your lunch—" "MY WIFE!" the sound of gojo's chair hitting the floor echoed as you took a step back from the doorframe, yet your attempt to move out of the way was pointless as gojo barreled toward you with open arms. his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, and you let out a quiet sigh as you held the bento box up. "is my beautiful wife here to visit her husband?" "i'm here to give you your lunch, toru." "MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE LOVES ME ENOUGH TO COME VISIT ME!" while gojo continued to ramble with you still in his arms, the three students watched the scene with narrowed eyes. "do you think she ever gets tired of him?" nobara asked bluntly, and yuji only shrugged. they continued to watch as gojo only hugged you tighter, and a soft smile appeared on your face as he continued to talk. "i don't think so..." yuji mumbled before turning his attention back to his phone, and the others did the same thing. except for gojo. because his attention was on you and you only.

comments & reblogs are always appreciated !!

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certifiedsmutreader · 2 months ago

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★ asking roommate!sukuna if you can sleep with him because you’re scared

“no.”

the door slams in your face, grazing your nose ever so slightly. you don’t know what you were expecting when you knocked at 2am — maybe you weren’t thinking at all. the booming thunder outside was dizzying and your feet raced you out of your room and down the hall in record speed before you could even process the rattling of your bones.

you knock again. the door swings open. he is not happy.

sukuna’s sporting a scowl, piercings glinting from the hallway light, as he glares down at you. he’s shirtless and wearing boxers that hang low on his hips, revealing sharp angles and thick lines of ink. on any other occasion, you would have swooned to yourself but now’s not the time.

“please, s’kuna. i can’t sleep on my own like this.”

his brow quirks up. “and that’s my problem because?”

fuck.

he’s not listening. you can’t even blame him — it’s late and he’s already warned you he’s not the sweet type, that you shouldn’t treat him like a boyfriend, and he doesn’t cuddle so unless you’re up for spreading your legs, you should keep your distance. but you thought since you guys have been having dinner together, going out for errands, and even building inside jokes that he might feel inclined to do you a little favour.

“y-yeah, you’re right. sorry.” you jolt when the next rumble sends the apartment swaying. “oh! fuck. just…sorry. night.”

scrambling back, you clutch yourself tight, resenting the shudders running through you, like the storm has wormed its way in and is eating you from the inside.

“ah!”

two huge arms wrap around you, lifting you up, back, and tossing you onto a bed. you bounce once. twice. sukuna makes an exasperated noise and runs his hand through his hair. “you’re an annoying little shit. you better not snore or i’m kicking you out.”

then, he’s climbing in behind you, lying on his stomach, faced buried in his pillow and paying you no mind. you’re in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve been here before and will be again. it did occur to you that things might get awkward, but the way he’s not even the slightest bit tense and letting you hike up the covers over both of you even though he runs hot tells a different story.

minutes pass by, you still can’t sleep. the storm is suffocating. just as your eyes flutter shut, a flash of lightning breaches the blanket of his curtains and a fierce roaring follows shortly after, shaking the bed frame. shit.

“quit shivering. can’t fucking sleep when you’re on vibration mode.”

“sorry.”

he opens one eye to judge you. “you scared of a little thunder? embarrassing.”

“yeah.”

grunting, he mutters something, as if scolding himself and throws an arm around you. sukuna rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on his chest. he’s warm and hardened with muscles, yet you melt into him as if he’s a teddy bear. he smells nice too.

you’re rendered confused, unable to reconcile his actions with the relevance to anything that had transpired in the last ten minutes. but…you hear it. or rather, you don’t. his body is shielding you from the sounds outside, distracting your senses with the feel of him, bare, against you. the thunders are washed away by the beating of something inside his chest.

quietly, you quip, feeling the need to cover up the heat rising to your cheeks, “i didn’t know you had a heart.”

sukuna scoffs. “yeah, neither. now shut up, don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass in the morning.”

maybe you are closer than you thought. though you won’t bring that up to him, knowing how defensive he gets. unspoken and subtle, you’re content with the way he shows his loyalty. it’s sincere and consistent and that’s all that matters.

so, you find yourself falling asleep dreaming of a fire engulfing you, drowning all else away, and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

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certifiedsmutreader · 3 months ago

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“How many do you think is too many?” Is a too dangerous question to ask a greedy man like Satoru Gojo.

He’d keep you knocked up for as long as you’d allow it, and if you do allow it— for years to come, one after another. I just know he wants a huuuuge family, so many babies, as many as you’ll give him.

Gets to a point where your second daughter who’s no older than two gets confused when you’re not pregnant for once.

She clambers up the couch onto your lap, her tiny hands pawing at your stomach. And then she lifts the hem of your shirt, ducking her small head under, and then out, and then under again. A childlike concern furrows her wispy brows as she looks to you. “Mama, your tummy gone!”

Her innocent fretting warrants a surprised huff of laughter from you, but from across the living room, it cues a scheming, wickedly thrilled look from your husband.

He himself trudges over, lifting his legs high with every step as two of your other children clung to each of his calves like koalas to a tree trunk, squealing joyfully as he hauled them along.

There’s a genuinely bright grin as he lifts your daughter from your lap, the little girl beaming and giggling when he blew raspberries into her cheek.

“D’aww don’t look so frowny, cupcake,” He cooed as he lifted her overhead, sitting the now smiley girl atop his shoulders. All three of your littles were now tugging at some part of him with cheery expressions, whether it be his pants, shirt, or hair as he affirmed, “Mama’s tummy’ll come back.”

Satoru’s eyes shift to you now with a devious and knowing glint, loaded with implications that only you and him are privy to as he slyly adds, “won’t it, Mama?”

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certifiedsmutreader · 3 months ago

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In which Nanami and his wife suffer a loss Tw: grief, death, miscarriage, depression

“Sweetheart,” he begins, a strain in his husky voice, “you should eat something.”

You don’t respond. There’s a lot to say, but none you can get through without crying, you think, so you sit in the garden, feeling a warm breeze brush over you. It had only been days since it happened, and a dull silence has filled your home, mocking and taunting. Practically catatonic, you only get up from the chair you dragged from the dining room to the garden to use the toilet or to lie in bed awake all night.

Kento, ever the rock, has been picking up the pieces — he’s cleaned the blood from the floor, dealt with the paperwork, spoken to all the doctors, and has begun making those dreaded phone calls to your closest friends and family. He doesn’t sleep, either.

“Please, honey. The doctors said you need to recuperate your energy.”

A scoff leaves you. “The doctors said a lot of things, Kento, and we did it all. We did everything right. Everything. And for what?”

He sighs.

“I know.”

And that’s all he can say.

He leaves a plate of food with you and disappears inside the house. You’re sure he’s just giving you space because that’s what he thinks you need or want, though, in truth, it only makes you feel worse. As if he can barely look at you, he never sits with you, never stays in the same room for very long after checking on your health, and doesn’t reach for your body at night or in the morning. Probably because he wouldn’t be able to stomach the reminder of what had been lost. Of what you lost.

Or rather, what you took from him.

Maybe some of those phone calls he takes are to his lawyers. Maybe instead of a fresh birth certificate, all you’ll have to commemorate those months you’ve spent creating life are divorce papers. You can’t blame him. You resent yourself, too.

There are going to be a lot of changes in the house and none that you had been anticipating. The baby proofing will have to come off: the gates at the stairs, the rubber guards on the table corners, the locks on cabinets. And the nursery…

How long will that room stay as it is?

How long before those gentle clouds are painted over and the onesies are thrown away or donated?

Your feet take you there on autopilot, you’re not even really sure where you are until you blink and realise you’re holding a stuffed toy of a giraffe to your nose. It doesn’t smell of anything, never had the chance to smell like anything, not baby powder or even vomit; it’s just empty.

“Sweetheart?” Kento looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, a scruffiness to his jaw that you’ve never seen, his hair is messy like he’s run his hands through it many times, and his socks are mismatched. You haven’t looked in a mirror in a while, so you can’t say if you look just as bad or worse, and nothing in how he looks at you gives it away. “Are you al—“

Always so thoughtful, he stops himself from asking what he knows is a ridiculous question. Of course, you’re not alright. How could you be?

Even at his worst, he doesn’t ever want to hurt you. You come first, even if the whole world wouldn’t blame him if he was selfish for just one second. That's your husband. Always so perfect, so deserving of…well, more.

Without needing him to say the words, you answer the question that hangs in the air. “I just wanted to see this place one last time before we turn it back to a guest room.”

“Is that what you’d like? To clean the room out?” His words are measured, voice restrained, and it switches something in you, sparking guilt and life, both of which come hand in hand, you realise now.

You feel terrible; you haven't even considered what he wants.

He sees something in your eyes, something that softens his gaze and urges him forward, wrapping his arms around you. Gentle and warm, you immediately melt into his embrace — you’ve forgotten how good it feels, how right, and you slot back together like puzzle pieces.

Holding him tight, you whisper, “I don’t know what I want to do with the room. It feels wrong to erase it all, but I don’t think it should just sit here, collecting dust, y’know?”

“I understand. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep it around for a little longer. I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”

You’re going to cry — you always did when he bares his soul to you. With a nod, you shuffle out of his embrace and make your way out, passing the toy to him, but he holds on, keeping you there with him. His grip is unsteady, shaky, and desperate.

“Please talk to me, sweetheart.” His voice breaks, a sound you’ve never heard him make. You can’t bear to look at what expression has taken over his features. If you did, you’d break, and you know it. “Let me back in. I know you’re mad at me. I know I failed you and our b-baby, but please just look at me, okay? I need to know you’re alright. That you’ll be alright.”

The tears fall in waves. “I’m not mad at you, Ken. I could never. I thought you were mad at me. I thought you hated me 'cause it was my fault. I-I must have strained myself too much, o-or something. I’m sorry.”

Kento rushes forward and holds you as if you’ll vanish before him like the future you’ve been building. He holds you like he can will life back into you, even if it robs him of his, like he wishes he could take your pain and wash it all away. “No, sweetheart. God, please don’t talk like that. Please. I-I can’t bear it.”

He fights off the overwhelming silence of loss with admissions of love, filling the room with what it should have been filled with from the very beginning. No words of comfort can be given. Nothing about a grand plan, a test, and talks of a better place could ease any of what you feel. He makes no promises that it will get better; he can’t say for sure it will. But he’s willing to try, and that’s more than enough.

At night, you lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It’s intimacy you’ve been yearning for and didn’t realise it. He smells clean and familiar, and he radiates so much heat you hardly need covers. The hairs on his chest aren't scraggly or chafing; they're comfortable. And his fingers tickle, eliciting goosebumps as they dance up and down your spine. These are the things about him you've forgotten, that younger you would hate to ever forget, and yet you did.

From the very beginning, it had been him who dealt with everything. He took you to all your doctors appointments, read out chapters from parenting books to you, practised studies about the benefits of talking to the baby, grilled sales assistants on strollers and cribs, threw out everything in the house that could be dangerous to you — alcohol, strong perfumes, snacks and foods unadvisable to be consumed — even installed a handle in the bathroom in case you slipped.

He spoke with great pride about your development, how strong you are for being able to bear so much weight, for powering through the lethargy to attend parenting classes, and for being so diligent in your diet. Every step of the way, he had gazed at you like you hung the moon and stars, stared in wonder and in awe.

In his wallet, he carries a picture of the sonogram. He showed it off to anyone he could corner, would even kiss it for luck. In the hospital, just hours after you’re been told the news, you caught him looking at it when he thought you were asleep. You wonder if he’ll keep it now that nothing more will come from it, now that it’ll only prompt awkward conversations and won’t bear any luck.

Quiet and brimming under the surface, you know he grieved like it would be a bother to you.

“You would have been a great father, Ken,” you mutter against his chest. “I’m sorry I took that away from you.”

Shushing you, he says, “You didn’t take anything from me. You’ve given me everything. Every ounce of happiness I’ve ever felt came from you. Every wonderful memory worth keeping has been with you. I know I would have made a loving father, but only because you’d be an amazing mother. I’d never want to do any of it without you, do you understand? For better or for worse, remember, sweetheart?”

“In sickness and in health…” The words carry a bitter taste in your mouth. “What if we can never…what if I can never…?”

“Then, we can adopt. Or, we can just travel the world together. That sounds fun, doesn't it?”

He brushes a thumb over the gold band on your finger like it’s soothing, but you only feel its chains tie him down. “Maybe you should start anew with someone who isn’t broken, someone who can give you—“

“That’s enough."

There's a finality to his words that shames you into silence. It's scolding, unyielding, and almost angry.

"Don’t talk about yourself like that — like you’re a breeding machine. I won’t let anyone disrespect my wife, not even you.” Your face is cradled in his big, firm hands, forcing you to see the fierce sincerity in his eyes, which don’t waver even in the face of the tears that threaten to brim over in yours. “I love you. I love you. Nothing will change that. Nothing. I already know, without needing to search for it, that my happy ending is with you and that no one else can make me feel the way you do. You’re the woman of my dreams, with or without a baby. You’ve given me more love and happiness than I deserve and I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

“But, Ken...”

“No, sweetheart. Listen to me. What happened was terrible. Is terrible. And we’re both allowed to feel the loss, to feel however we need to feel to process it all. But for as long as we love each other, we can face whatever the future has in store for us. Together. Whatever you want. Whether it’s to try again or to find a child already out there to love, or if it’s just each other — I’ll be happy with anything because it’ll be with you. Because I love you, and I need you a-and if you suggest leaving me once more, I think I might just die.”

You kiss him through the tears. There are no words left to be exchanged; he’s made it abundantly clear what he wants, and only in your actions can you declare to him that you’re just as much in this as he is, that you’re just as willing to fight for your shared happiness as you were before.

He clasps you to him like he believes you. Like he needs to.

For the first night in a while, you fall asleep lighter than ever, and it doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

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certifiedsmutreader · 3 months ago

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pre-dating!gojo who has a massive crush on you

pre-dating!gojo who doesn't even try to hide his blatant favoritism

"i'll take over her mission. she needs rest. i'll write a doctor's note. i am a doctor. kind of."

pre-dating!gojo who constantly hits you with horrible pick up lines.

"if you keep looking that good, i might actually die. which would be horrible. for humanity.... okay, i'll shut up now..."

pre-dating!gojo who collects soda tabs so that he can trade them with you for a kiss.

pre-dating!gojo who gives you ridiculous pet names like 'my venti iced white chocolate mocha with extra syrup and sweet cream cold foam with caramel drizzled on the foam..."

pre-dating!gojo who tries too hard to be your hero, even in unnecessary situations. like when you dropped your phone and he did two backflips and defied gravity just to slam it into the wall with his otherworldly reflexes.

pre-dating!gojo who over-explains his cursed technique to you just to seem cool.

"yeah so my limitless technique literally manipulates space at an atomic level, are you even listening?? i can make space dissappear, arent i so cool??"

pre-dating!gojo who will ask for your help for the most simplest things like putting his sunglasses on for him (he asks for a kiss on the forehead for good luck whenever you do it).

pre-dating!gojo who will find a way to make everything about you. it annoys people to bits.

pre-dating!gojo who stares at you like you hung the stars, and he won't even try to deny it.

pre-dating!gojo who brags about you as if you're already dating.

"she laughed at my jokes today, thats basically a love confession! shes so perfect and oh my god her laugh its so.... shoko, you better not have your earbuds in right now"

everyone is begging that you two start dating just so he stops.

little do they know, boyfriend!gojo is ten times worse.

a/n:- even though you didnt ask for this at all, for @deathofacupid cuz girl im lowkey down bad for u. i hope you know that i think of you whenever i write for gojo. while ik that you would love to do....other things.... with him, too, you deserve the cute and the adorable and everything in between too. i hope that one day youll find your gojo who loves you to infinity and beyond because you deserve that and more. ily bro and congrats once more on 2K!

enough of the sentimental shit

Oh, you’re curious about my past works? Well, luckily for you, all the deliveries are neatly archived! Just head over to the Archive of Deliveries and browse through what I’ve sent out in the past. Enjoy the trip down memory lane!

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certifiedsmutreader · 3 months ago

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𐔌 𖹭 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 . ִֶָ๋

ᡴꪫ. smut & oral 𖹭 f. reader 𖹭 part 2 ˖ ࣪ꮽ˳

satoru refuses to let you suck him off.

he'll swim between your legs for hours. until his lower face is all glossy and eyes glazed the pussy-drunk daze while he needily laps on your cunt.

but the second you're even beginning to oggle his tent and lower yourself to your knees? he's yanking you up and splaying you over the nearest piece of furniture he can. can't suck his dick when you're dangling over his desk now can you?

at first you assumed maybe he's just not into that. maybe he doesn't feel comfortable with it. you can respect that —

until you found out the real reason.

"I wanna make you feel good instead, baby." you could barely take his pouting seriously as he hovered over you, bare. he'd lean down to nuzzle your neck with a few kisses to follow. "don't want you to worry 'bout me too much. feel good making you feel good."

which started the long and frankly, trifling operation: suck satoru gojo's dick.

the idea that he felt bad over the idea of you pleasuring him reminded you of the same reason you fell in love with him in the first place. no way in hell are you ending this year without getting your boyfriend's cock down your throat!

this strings a series of, honestly, comedic events. you went with the obvious, waking him up with it. you planned strategically, trained yourself to wake up just an hour before him and awaited for the perfect time to strike.

you only got to pulling the waistband of his boxers down before bright blue eyes stared you down, processed, and yanked you over his face instead.

damnit. maybe during a movie? he's so engrossed in his latest geek obsession that surely he wouldn't notice your head lowering, right? until you were nuzzling his crotch through the blanket and he jerked, squeaked, spilling the bowl of popcorn.

"no no no don't even —" buzz.

infinity!? he put infinity on?

"satoru. gojo." you warn through glaring eyes. it ended with you strung over the sofa arm with two, strong hands holding you down while he's ball's deep. fucking you dumb through the end credits with a mean thumb to your swollen clit.

"yeah baby? yeah? so impatient for me huh?" anything to get your mind off of the previous agenda.

don't even try the shower. his hand buried into your hair, yanked you off and then hoisted you. shoved you into the wet tiles to instead get bullied by his cock. legs helplessly strung around his waist while his ragged pants found your ear.

"pretty girl's just so needy huh? wants my cock so bad? you can have it baby, don' worry."

hell, even after a busy week where he's deflated across your bed and you're grinding on him to get you both there. your slick heat coating his pulsating dick. catching his tip on your clit and spilling your joined moans through the room.

the second you tried your luck he's shuffling for a pillow with a rushed; "he's shy! leave him be!"

it seemed that your little operation was failing miserably. satoru is just too fast for you. too infuriatingly good at making your mind go blank with his tongue, mouth or dick. you'd forget what you even started in the first place. but you're a stubborn woman.

so, what's the next scheme?

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

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