#mama y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zarameraki · 3 months

Text

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.”

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight-kilo baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded.

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of reluctance that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit.

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit.

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.”

“Hurry, then.”

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination.

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him.

“Are you close?” you whispered.

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.”

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Please.”

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him.

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back.

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again.

You both snapped in unison.

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.”

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

7K notes · View notes

sukisprettyface · 10 months

Text

should i make incorrect quotes for atsv

8K notes · View notes

luminiamore · 21 days

Text

biker geto suguru x black hoochie mama reader

warnings: fingerfucking, soft dom sugu, he’s a tease, sugu has a big dick, but we knew this!

a/n: this man is so fine i need him neow.

masterlist

Life has always treated you so well, beyond well, in fact. You resided in one of Atlanta’s finest lofts, debt-free at 23 despite recently graduating from college. Even though you have your own income, your generous parents still send you a fat check every week or so. You had men constantly begging on their knees to fund your entire existence, and on the occasion, women, too. Everything you wanted simply came to you with no trouble.

You wanted that cute brown skin man with the waves that you saw at the grocery store? He already has your number. You want that pretty ’90s hairstyle you saw in a vintage magazine? You were already on your way to go get it done. You want to change your dramatic nails, even though you just got them done two days ago, because you found another style you want more? Who can deny you? It’s your world.

Was it manifestation? Who knows. The one thing you do know is that the world hands you everything on a pure gold platter.

Popularity followed you whenever you went, but who could blame you? You were the epitome of everything sexy. From the way your rose-colored wedges beautifully complement your flawless white toes against your dark skin to how your denim mini skirts hug your curves and accentuate your figure, and your tops, or mainly bikini tops, enhance your boobs so well that they could make a grown man cry.

Had you been an adult woman in the 90s instead of being a high-maintenance child, you might have been a star, perhaps even one of the most iconic video vixens. However, that title belongs to your momma. The OG.

She was the sought-after beauty every top rapper wanted for their music videos. From Snoop Dogg to 50 Cent, Lil Wayne to Jay Z, Biggie - she lit up screens. She even brought fire to the feud between Tupac and Biggie when she appeared in the latter’s video. You’re almost sure that lady even told you about how Pac was nearly your father before she met your dad. And you, like the little minx you were, lived up to her status.

Now, you weren’t in those modern-day rap videos of the pretty big booty woman shaking their ass on camera. Your momma raised you to have more class than that. She taught you that your ass isn’t the biggest asset you have to offer, figuratively. Your face is, the way you make people feel is, the way you seduce people is.

That resulted in you appearing in a few music videos where the artist expressed love for someone, as those typically featured the camera focused on one girl. And that girl was you. Those got you the recognition your momma had. Those got men practically lining up to pay all your bills, those got plentiful women dying to either be you or be with you.

Your reputation preceded you; you were exceptional, operating on a different level altogether. Your complexion was flawless, your lips rich and full, and your eyes possessed a captivating allure that could weaken anyone with just one glance. You were taught to always go after the best because you are the best.

So, what the hell was your ass doing walking around in Oakland City? Wearing your ripped undercut booty shorts, which showed more booty than shorts, along with a vintage Dior top you borrowed stole from your momma, complete with a matching purse.

Your flower sandals from Dolce & Gabbana made such a powerful tapping sound, combined with the multiple pieces of gold adorning your wrists, ears, and neck, that everyone you passed couldn’t help but look to see just who it was, and they were definitely not disappointed.

You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t dream of entering one of the most dangerous areas of your hometown without protection. Your bedazzled gold pepper spray and your fully loaded Beretta Nano 9mm pistol in your purse, itching to be used if someone tries you.

They wouldn’t dare, though. Your momma wasn’t the only legendary figure in your family. Your dad ran one of the leading crime families in all of Atlanta, dealing with heavy drugs, counterfeiting, and smuggling illegal things across borders. He was feared just as equally as he was respected.

Messing with you? Your pops would send their family a well-decorated package with their son on a shirt. The last man that cheated on you was a prime example. You couldn’t feel bad for him, though, you did warn him.

To answer your earlier inquiry, which has been nagging at you since you parked your Toyota GR Supra Coupe at a motel five blocks away from the neighborhood, you were there to buy drugs. Weed, more specifically. You could have asked your father, but you really weren’t up for hearing his opinion on how he believes you smoke too much. So you go to the next best thing, Satoru Gojo.

Since your dad was focused on dealing with harder drugs, he didn’t bother with substances like shrooms or anything related to weed. He considered himself too old for that and delegated the task to his second in command and your friend since birth, Satoru. You quicken your pace, heels tapping rapidly as you approach one of his many houses. You’re almost there.

He has some of the best shit in the A, but whenever you ask him how he does it,

“I just sell it, Sis. My best friend does all the hard stuff,”

You would always roll your pretty eyes at this because this supposed best friend he always bragged about was never around. At first, you believed he fibbed about having a best friend out of embarrassment, suspecting that you were the only one who could tolerate his antics.

But you saw glimpses, small ones. A fine leather jacket hanging off his dining room chair that you know Satoru wouldn’t wear. A motorcycle helmet standing tall on the side of his kitchen counter. Your suspicions proved unfounded as your gaze shifted to a sleek, blacked-out MTT 420 Turbine Superbike as you approached Toru’s driveway.

You know damn well that can’t belong to Satoru. Your movements stop once you knock harshly on the door. You catch the faint sound of a random trap song playing through it. You can’t help but smile, amused by how predictably cliché this white-haired man-child can be. Trap music at a trap house.

Your smile fades as you’re met with a cold glare from a short, thick, light-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig. Studying her features further, you can’t help but acknowledge her prettiness. But the minute she opened her mouth, you were annoyed.

“And, who the fuck you is?” She snaps loudly, the gum she’s chewing matching her obnoxiousness. She’s too pretty for this.

“Girl, bye.” You push past her, causing her to stumble slightly, as you march into the house. Maybe she was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out. With your back turned to her, you catch Satoru muttering softly and glancing past you, “Don’t even try it.”

She sucks her teeth in annoyance, slamming the door behind her as she heads back to the couch where Satoru, another man, and three other girls are seated. Wait- another man?

You glance back at the couch again, only to steady your hands on the wall you were leaning on. Woah. This man was so fine that he almost made your legs give out on you. The fuck?

His face was so pretty. Sharp black eyes and the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a man. The wife beater he wore clung tightly to his perfect skin, so much so that you could make out that he had nipple piercings. Woah. The tattoos trailing up both of his muscular arms had you ready to remind yourself to just fucking breathe. He sported washed black Chrome Heart jeans, and the pretty cross peeking from his waistband gave it away.

This man was looking at you, more like undressing you with his eyes. And you couldn’t look away.

“You can’t be knocking on my door like that Sis, I almost thought you were the feds.” Satoru hums, though he really wasn’t worried. He knew the feds couldn’t hold him for long; he had too much money for that. You quickly glance at him and roll your eyes. When you shift your gaze away from Toru, you turn back to the man who has yet to introduce himself to you.

As if he could read your mind, he rises from his seat, his towering height catching you off guard, and he saunters almost sensually towards where you’re standing in the kitchen. The minute he stands in front of you,

“Suguru Geto. You’re beautiful if you don’t mind me saying,” He brings a hand out to shake yours, his eyes never shifting from your brown ones. You glance down for a moment, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy when you catch sight of his immaculately clean, clear polished nails, his fingers adorned with silver rings. Lord, help you.

You give him a smile when you register his compliment, “Y/n. You’re the infamous best friend I hear so much about but never see?” You raise a brow.

Suguru swears he’s died and went to heaven when he hears your honey voice. He thinks he’s met the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on. The gold grill you have of what he remembers is the Scorpio sign confirms it. I mean, just look at you, your outfit, your jewelry, and your face.

Suguru believes he knows himself. He knows he doesn’t like girls that do “too much,” but you make it look so good. He knows he doesn’t even have a fetish for feet. But if you told him to right now, he would drop down immediately and worship yours. He believed a goddess was walking among him when you walked through the door.

“That’s me, the idiot doesn’t have anyone else,” He mutters. You let out the cutest laugh at his comment that makes his dick harden in his jeans. Lord, help him.

Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp behind the two of you, “Hey! I have Y/n!” You immediately retort at him, raising a finger at him.

“Aht! No, you don’t,” You chuckle, snickering and rolling your eyes as you catch him placing a hand on his heart as if you’ve just shot him.

“Stop hogging my best friend and come get what you came for, Sis,” He waves a bag in the air, holding at least 20 grams of weed, ignoring the two girls tugging on both of his arms.

You squeal and sprint as fast as your heels allow towards where he’s seated. Suguru follows after you slowly, feeling ashamed at the way the other two girls cling to him the moment he sits down. He wants nothing to do with them, he feels almost disgusted by their presence now that you’re here. He didn’t even realize they were here when he arrived, he was only here for Satoru.

You snatch the bag from him, slip it into your purse, and then lunge toward him for a hug, knowing he’d never let you pay, of course.

“Thank you, Toru!” Naturally, he wastes no time pushing the two girls aside to embrace you. You’ve always been his top priority. Suguru finds it challenging to look away because as you hug his best friend, your curvaceous behind is directly in his line of sight. He wishes you would hug him like that.

When you straighten, “I gotta go. You guys seem busy anyway,” You quickly utter and glance at Suguru. He seemed like he was about to say something, but you interject before he can.

“It was nice meeting you, Suguru.” You softly tell him. He might’ve just came in his pants with the way you said his name in that tone. He pauses for a moment, but before he can utter a word, you’ve already dashed out the front door.

He stills, and he turns to his lifelong best friend,

“Give me her number.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It’s been about two hours since you arrived at your loft. You prepared yourself a nice dinner, a well-made Alfredo, before making your way to your room. You sink into the comfort of your silk sheets, retrieving your ashtray and preparing to roll up. Soft Erykah Badu playing from your Alexa Speaker. You’re interrupted by an unknown number dinging on your phone.

Who’s this?

You smile immediately, feeling a rush of nerves as you realize he asked Satoru for your number. You're accustomed to getting what you want, and right now, you want him. You eagerly await his text, noticing that he's typing.

You observe his directness. Suguru is texting you as if he knows exactly what he wants, and if there's one thing you admire in a man, it's when he's decisive and goes after what he wants.

You've already decided to smoke with him, swiftly swapping your shorts for a black Juicy Tracksuit as it got windy. You opt to play a little hard to get.

Your jaw drops at the amount he sent you for an Uber. Is he crazy? While you’ve had people send you rides to go somewhere, you can’t shake the feeling that he just wanted an excuse to send you money. You’re still reeling from the shock when he immediately sends you the address to his place afterward. You grab two rolled-up blunts and slide on a pair of kitten heels. Snatching your keys, you head out when your Uber driver arrives outside.

The drive to his place is surprisingly short, almost too short. Considering how spread out the area is, you’ve only been in the car for 15 minutes, yet you’re still in the same neighborhood. You brush it off and approach his door. As you knock, you notice Suguru’s driveway filled with three vehicles: the motorcycle you saw earlier, a Mercedes E-Class, and a sleek BMW M3. You can’t help but appreciate yet another reason you’re drawn to him.

He opens the door, and you swear you wish you could pounce on him. He’s still wearing the wife beater, and when you glance up at his face, you notice his eyes are low and red. With his hair tied up in a man bun, a few strands cascading over his face, the only thought running through your mind is... He’s so pretty.

“You started getting lit without me?” You feign surprise as he welcomes you inside. He kindly takes your keys and hangs them on the holder by his door. You could feel him staring at your ass as you move to stand beside him.

He chuckles, shaking his head at you. He reaches a hand out. “You know how Satoru is. My room?” You nod, and he shivers as your long, pretty nails brush against his hand. Was everything about you so alluring?

You follow behind him, noting how he never lets go of your hand. His room, much like his style, is entirely black. Black sheets adorn a king-sized bed, with a few rock band posters hanging above where his dressers are placed. He even has a private bathroom, the door wide open. Damn, this man even has lavender incense burning on the small desk next to his bed.

“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,”

Don’t mind if I do. You drop your body on his bed with a plop. You start to take off your right heel, intending to reach for the left one, only to find Suguru already kneeling down, doing it for you. When he’s done, he rubs your feet for about three long seconds before pulling away. You gasp softly, looking away from his intense gaze. Is he usually this forward?

“Uh- I rolled two. I get lip gloss on the blunt,” You sputter out, retrieving them from your purse as he stands up from his position on the floor and settles onto his pillow.

He makes a tsk sound, “Don’t play with me,” He grabs only one from your raised hand and pulls a skull lighter from his jeans pocket. As you place the other one in your purse, you watch him take the first hit. You realize he enjoys eye contact because, throughout all of his movements, his eyes never leave yours.

You’re nervous. For the first time in your life, a man has made you feel nervous. His energy makes you nervous, how he observes you with such intensity makes you nervous, and even how he feeds you the blunt after taking a few hits makes you nervous.

You’re mesmerized. The effects of the blunts hit you swiftly, altering your mind and intensifying your urge to fuck this man till he sees stars.

Suguru himself has never felt this way before. He’s had a few flings here and there and has even been in a relationship or two. But he’s never felt the need to be entirely consumed by someone. The minute he saw you, it felt like time had stopped for him; he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to give you the universe because the world is far too small for someone like you.

“You have a boyfriend?” His husky voice asks this out of respect for you. Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck less if you had a man. You’d be his either way.

“Why? You want me?” You giggle, though you knew he did, you just wanted to tease him. As you gaze up at him through the haze, your breath catches when you observe that his eyes have darkened noticeably. You recognize that expression all too well—it mirrors the one you give the camera when it’s focused on you.

He doesn’t respond or even break a smile at your inquiry. No, his eyes are fixated on your plump, glossed lips as you take another hit. You shift your thighs a little, you don’t know how long you can wait before he makes his move.

Suguru notices, and this time, his lips twitch up a bit, “And if I did?” His whisper keeps you quiet. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Suguru doesn’t mind your silence. He needs you to savor your angelic tune anyway since you’ll scream his name in a few minutes. Rising from his position, he tilts your chin towards him, his eyes catching note of the smoke in your mouth. Drawing his lips dangerously close to yours, he exhales softly,

“Let it go.” You don’t hesitate to listen to his command. It’s as if your mind is his now, the way he doesn’t even do anything to get your attention. As soon as the smoke escapes your lips, he inhales it, pressing his soft lips firmly against yours.

You whimper out at the force and immediately kiss him back. Suguru swears he’s already in love when he feels your lips reciprocate his action, the stickiness of your strawberry gloss making him release a sound that had you squeezing your thighs. He’s relentless, nipping and forcing his tongue to merge with yours.

His fervor with just a kiss leaves you reeling. The combination of the weed and his lips makes you feel intoxicated, causing you to grasp onto the fabric of his jeans to steady yourself. When he pulls away from you, it only makes you crave more.

You’re both breathing heavily, and the sound of Brent Faiyez playing on his speaker is long tuned out. He stares at your eyes briefly before gently pulling you down to lay on your back. You lean up to pull him into another passionate kiss,

“More, please.” You whine out, a little too desperate for your taste. You couldn’t understand why you wanted him so bad, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that your pussy was dripping the minute you saw him at Satoru’s place. You can tell he wants to take things slow, but you can’t find it in you to share the same feeling. You need him to do something to you, now.

He only whispers, “Patience, sweetheart.” And moves his lips down to your neck. Soft kisses fill your throat before he stops teasing and reaches for your zipper. He's not shocked to learn that you don't wear a bra; he could almost see your hard nipples through the velvet fabric of your hoodie.

Your sigh of satisfaction comes from the moment he wraps his lips around your dark areola and gently caresses the fat of your unattended boob. He starts slowly, listening to the sounds you make and observing how he can persuade you to moan louder. Your breath gets shaky when he gets more aggressive with his movement, pulling at your sensitive nipples. He decides that he wants more from you.

Suguru rasps out, “I know you want me to fuck you,” Your body feels on fire as his touch slithers down your stomach, grazing your belly ring. He lowers your tracksuit pants for you and throws them across his room, forbidding you to do anything that doesn’t include you receiving pleasure. Your body is anticipating as he continues, “But I need to prep you, or you won’t be able to take me,”

He toys with the slender strap of your thong, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on your face as he talks, “Be good and let me play with you for a bit, okay?”

Your fiery personality is well-known for not letting men dictate your actions. You’re quick to dismiss any nigga, and based on instinct, you’re almost prepared to snap: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?

By now, you should realize that Suguru observes every single move you make, every slight gesture you make, when your breath catches, and even now, he detects that you intend to snap at him. He does nothing but give you a look, a dangerous look, which only implies I dare you. Suguru orchestrates a dominance so calm but prominent that you can’t help but whimper out a quiet “Yes,”

What is he doing to you?

He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth as a reward. He’s in a trance. Suguru can’t pull his gaze away from your panties. You’re so wet that it’s clinging onto the fabric as he slowly pulls it away from your lower lips. He finds himself plunging two fingers into your wet cunt before your thong even touches your knees. Fuck, you’re tight.

“Ah- shit! Sugu!” You mewl, walls immediately clenching on his thick fingers. He quickly begins to rub circles on your twitching clit, observing as you gasp and scramble under him. You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you this, too.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Your slick is dripping all over his palm as he finger fucks you. You try to keep your moans in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your mind. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but scream out at the way his long fingers are effortlessly punishing your G-spot.

Suguru moves his fingers faster when you don’t answer him, “I asked you a question, baby.”

Your loud whimpers can be heard over his music. How could you possibly answer? You’re already starting to blank, you’re not sure you even listened to what he said. “I- Oh fuck, Yes!”

The sounds coming from your fat pussy is downright phonographic. The squishing, the squelching. Shit, it’s even dripping onto his bed, creating a wet stain. Fuck. Suguru doesn’t think he can take another minute without being inside you. He needs it, but he needs to make you cum first.

He knows you’re about to, with the way your breathing is stuttering and the way there’s a white cream starting to stain his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you. You’re clenching so hard he’s not sure his dick will fit inside of you. He’ll make it fit, he’ll break your little pussy in if he has to.

Suguru leans against you, his desperate panting revealing his longing for you as he whispers in your ear, “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He fucks his fingers inside of you harder, rubbing your pretty clit even faster.

You nod eagerly, mind already reeling as you wail, “Y-Yes. I’m gonna cum, Sugu! I- Shitt,” He gently kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he’s encouraging you to accept it, to just cum all over him. And you do.

Your grip on the bottom of Suguru’s wifebeater hurts your fingers, and you arch your back off the bed while your tight walls clench once more around him. You see white spots in your blacked-out vision, and your squealing is so loud that you worry the neighbors will hear it. He doesn’t stop moving when you cum, wanting to prolong what he knows is the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had.

When you finally stop twitching in aftershock, your breathing begins to slow down, and his movements follow suit. Your panties are long gone. He swiftly pulls out of you while you’re still in a daze, making you unaware that he’s sucking up your essence from his fingers and pulling his jeans down along with his Calvin Klein briefs.

You are, however, aware when he pushes your thick brown thighs flush against your chest. And you’re even more aware when he lines his fat pink tip to your sticky lower lips. Suguru doesn’t let you see just how big he is, he directs your focus to his lips on yours. But Lord, do you fucking feel it. You feel it when he rubs up and down on your wet slit. You feel it when he pushes only his tip inside of you before he pulls back out again.

Suguru doesn’t think he can keep on teasing you like this. He tries to keep it up for your sake, but the way you feel on his tip has his body shaking; it’s almost embarrassing. But he can’t find himself to feel ashamed when you look up at him at him like that, your eyes pleading for him to fuck you into the mattress.

“I’m gonna put it in now, baby. I’m gonna fuck you real good, okay?” You’re learning, you know he wants an answer from you, and you don’t bat an eye when your trembling, honeyed voice whispers, “Whatever y-you want, Sugu.”

Whatever he wants? You probably should’ve never said that, and he’ll show you why. He pushes inside of your cunt slowly, hissing at the same time you shriek when your walls try to push him out. “Breathe,” He rasps out. And you’re trying, you’re really trying to. But he’s just so fucking big, it’s like he’s breaking your pussy in half.

“Y-You’re too big! I can’t-” He doesn’t let you finish, he proves that you can when he pushes in halfway through your slobbering pussy.

“Of course you can, Y/n. You’re almost there, sweetheart. One more breath for me, yeah?”

You listen wordlessly, sucking in another deep breath. It’s inevitable to cry when he plunges the rest of his 8 and a half inches in one go. Suguru lets out a groan in your ear, and the sound makes your insides churn. How is it that he immediately finds your spongy spot? You’re so used to being briefly grazed in that spot that this feeling is foreign to you.

Suguru gives you a few seconds before your pussy starts suffocating him, and he’s forced to start feeding you with slow, deep strokes. “Jesus, fuck!” You keen, mewling, and pressing on his firm abs; the pressure was just too much for you. Are you crazy?

“None of that Y/n.” He uses his left hand to hold both of your hands and place them above your head, gently grasping your throat with his right. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, and his big cock never stops stirring up your guts at that slow pace. He gets impatient.

“You feel so good, so fucking tight. Pretty pussy is mine now, yeah? Tell me it is,” Gradual snapping of his hips against yours in a feverous tempo causes you to scramble under him, with your mind getting lost since you can’t find anything to keep you grounded. He has you altogether under his control, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset.

You don’t respond, your brain too gone to form any thought that’s not Sugu. You’ve forgotten your manners, he’ll make sure to remind you. He snaps his hips harder, he swears the cries you make almost make him cum on the spot.

“Words, Y/n. Tell me this perfect pussy is mine,” The sound of your soaked pussy filling the air as he whispers against your lips, which are permanently shaped in a perfect O.

You weep out, “Fuck! Oh, Sugu- it’s yours, all yours! I- Ah!” His face adorns with a sly smile at your confession. His body is on fire, your pussy perfectly snug around the shape of his cock. He knows he’s about to cum, with the way his insides are twisting, and his heavy balls are twitching rapidly as they slap on the fat on your ass. Your pussy is so good that he swears you’re not even from this planet. But he needs to get you there first. That’s all he needs to dump his seed inside of you.

He slithers the hand gripping your throat down to your drooling clit, rubbing so fast you think you’re having whiplash. Your cries become louder, and before you even know what’s happening, you’re covering Suguru’s entire stomach and his soft sheets with your squirt.

Suguru follows swiftly after you, letting out a sinful moan, his body trembling as he fills your pussy with his cum. It’s so much, so fucking much, that you can feel it overflowing past your stretched-out pussy. The sluggishness of his thrusts inside you causes him to let out loud breaths and drop his face in the crook of your neck.

Your eyes are still stuck on the ceiling above you, shallow breaths emerging from your sore throat. Woah.

The long-haired man above you is still panting and giving you another command, making it difficult for you to process what just happened to you.

“On your stomach, sweetheart.”

This time, you remember your manners.

1K notes · View notes

essenteez · 5 months

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 choi san 18+

"if i'm the bad wolf, you have to the moon. cause no one makes me howl the way your body does."

"The release came too fast, too powerful. The pleasure seemed to be ruining. It made you subconsciously try to push him away, to slow his actions down but no use. He was unmoved. And at that moment, you realized the meaning behind his name “mountain”. It wasn't just a name. It was a warning."

☾ synopsis : ever since your boyfriend has gotten his new tattoo - beautiful moon phases climbing up his spine - you always fail to keep your composure when looking at it. it draws you to touch it, drag your fingers, nails, tongue... however, the worst mistake you made was letting san see your poor self-control. now, he makes sure to always use his new card in this game of "who gives up first."

☾ pairing : san x f!reader

☾ genre : smut, one-shot

☾ warnings : explicit language, teasing, ass slapping, unprotected sex, thigh riding, fingering, commands, dick riding, big size, f! struggles to take it, mirror sex, back scratches, missionary, rough sex, penetration, breeding.

☾ words : 4k

NOTE : When I saw his back and the tattoo during mama performance, trust me, the sounds I made were inhuman. I will never recover from this. The power he bias wrecked me that moment should be studied :,) this piece is my ode to this tattoo

You failed yet again.

The temptation painted your sight in red while your willpower was at its lowest. In crushing defeat; saying goodnight to your dignity, you reached out your hand and dragged your finger down your boyfriend's naked spine.

You gulped quietly at San’s defined back muscles, now tensing under the touch of your sharp acrylic nail.

You began tracking the lines of his new tattoo. The moon cycle. Nine separate arts spread from his neck down to his slim waist. The work was beautifully done, impressive, and constantly begging you to touch it.

“You're really a fan of my latest whim.” He purred leisurely, stretching like a cat on the bed.

“Whim?” You chuckled. “You planned this tattoo for months.”

San looked so relaxed, laying on his belly as if he was waiting for a massage service. But you had a better idea.

The book you initially wanted to read was finally tossed aside. Positive reviews really made you curious. The plan for this evening was to indulge in the literature and find out if the recommendations were not bullshit.

But then your boyfriend decided to visit you in the late hours just to take off his shirt and spread his whole body on your bed. Apparently, he was tired after dance practice, so he quickly took a shower and went straight to your apartment.

Yeah, right. You had known him for years, and you knew how tired San looked like. The San that was now laying beside you had a lot of energy to spend. And there was no dance practice on Fridays.

“Not true! At first, it was supposed to be drawn only for the awards, you know, part of the lore? But I really liked how it looked. And the decision to make it real was sudden!"

“Fine.” You smiled at his cute indignation. “I'm happy that it's real, actually.”

“Why is that?”

His head rested on his hands, facing away from the spot where you sat. You used that opportunity of being out of his sight and of his guard being down.

The wickest giggle escaped your chords, “Cause now I can do this.”

You leaned over his lower back, right beyond the first tattoo of waning crescent moon. He twitched at the touch of your tongue, shamelessly climbing up his bare spine.

“Fuuuck, baby.” He whined somewhat relieved, as if he waited for that exact move of yours.

Not caring that you probably danced to his tune, you were now making your way back down with slow and juicy kisses. San’s whole body began waving at the tingling sensation. His body temperature rose rapidly. You could feel it through the thin skin of your lips.

Every single tattoo had its lines carefully traced with your tongue and then adorned with an invisible mark of your mouth. San was yours, all yours to enjoy.

Your boyfriend loved it with every fiber of his body. You could tell by the way he subconsciously hummed the melody of pure bliss. You could see it by how his sun kissed skin covered with goosebumps and how his body rose and fell from deeper and faster breathing.

You repeated the route a few times before reaching for his neck to bury your face in it. Inhaling his intoxicating smell; a mixture of soap, shampoo, and pheromones, you caused your own mind to spin.

Touching, kissing, and smelling that man was enough to make the muscles around your entrance grow tighter. You felt yourself getting incredibly wet.

“Baby…” He gasped when your teeth softly grabbed his earlobe.

His desperate pleas made you inhale sharply. You would have given him the heads of his enemies just to hear him whimper like that again.

“Hmm?”

“Promise you won't leave me grinding my dick onto your sheets like that.” Oh, his needy whines were truly to die for.

Your eyes wandered down his glistening spine right onto his shaply bottom. Slight circling movements of his hips made the cockiest smile crawl onto your mouth.

“So impatient.” You hummed.

His plump asscheeks had your head in the whirl. You needed that ass moving like that between your legs. Your cunt cried sweet tears when your head filled with the vision of San using his trained pelvis to thrust his way inside you.

You groaned in his ear, pleased at the sound that his sin worthy cheek made at the abrupt contact with your hand.

“You little shhhhit.” He hissed in full arousal at the sudden surprise and now the prickling skin.

“Oh apologies, my moon prince.” You pouted with fake guilt. To ease his abused ass, you grabbed a handful of his flesh and gave it a proper massage.

Using this opportunity, you pushed him more and more against the mattress, and you went back to teasing his neck, ear, and temple.

“Moon prin…ah fuuck.” He had no chance to ask you to elaborate on his new nickname. The new, deepened friction between his hardening cock and your satin sheets sent electric waves up his body. It reached all his nerves, which woke up just to act stupid from all the delightful stimulations.

San shifted his head to your side. The pillow traces on his cheek made you want to kiss it. But you focused on his hazy eyes and parted lips, drying up from needness.

“You're cruel, you know?” He whispered.

You laid down next to him, face to face. Obsessed, your hand never let go of his ass, groping and squeezing the plum. You stopped pushing his pelvis down. However, San kept grinding, now deeper and more aggressive.

“Look who's talking.” You teasingly licked his lips. “I had plans for this evening but you stormed into my room, exposing your beautiful chest, broad shoulders and slutty waist while wearing these black thin shorts.”

His smirk said it all.

“You're well aware that the outlines of your thighs are enough to make me drip, yet here you are.” You scoffed in frustration. ”And now that damn tattoo…”

San shifted to lay on the side, chest against chest with you. You were pulled closer to him by having your waist embraced by his strong arm, the other slid under your head to stop you from leaving.

You had no chance to react when your night dress got pulled up your hips. In a brutal way, your thong got ripped off you. There was not a chance to say anything since he immediately pushed his knee between your rubbing thighs.

“You're right.” He chuckled, feeding on your loud gasps. “I just love to see you struggle to contain yourself around me.”

San didn't have to do anything to have you grind on his thigh. You craved his touch, from the softest to cruelest, all over and inside your body

“San, ah.” You whimpered into his lips as you felt him purposely tensing up his muscles underneath you. The enhanced lines rubbed against you, making every cell in your body vibrate.

You put your hands flat on his chest. His heart beat so fast, chasing the pace of your pulse resonating in your head. No language could ever explain how much you needed him. Only your eyes could show him. Only your heat, wetness could make him feel it, and you were absolutely soaked, so much you heard squelched noises getting louder with every grind. Your shame was gone. All that mattered was a release granted to you by this beautiful man.

Your lips were brushing, noses rubbing, you breathed each other's air. The teasing, who gives up first and kisses the other, built up the tension to the point it was palpable. But the need to indulge in your taste made San lose the duel.

At first, he gently bit on your lower lip as if it was a fruit, and he wanted to see if it was ripe enough to be fully devoured.

“Pure sweetness.” He murmured with a low tone.

The moment your lips interlocked, San became braver with his actions. He stroked his hardness against your soft womb but it was your taste, scent, your closeness, the way your eyes shone and your pussy called for him that brought him to the edge of losing control. He swallowed your moans and let go only when you couldn't catch a breath from the crushing bliss.

“You're so loveable, (y/n).” He spoke as much as his own problems with breathing allowed him to. He was so hard it almost hurt, and you were so… “So touchable, irresistible. And so damn fuckable.”

“San-” You were close. His arm around your waist tightened, resulting in him fully controlling the speed of your movements.

“You'll be a good girl for me, won't you?” He growled into your lips. “I also planned this evening, you know. To pump you full, to the brim. To sit you down on my cock and watch you struggle to take it. I need that tattoo scratched with your nails. You hear me?”

The ecstasy chased you, but it was his words that tipped the scale. The fog covered your sight, and the sensation made your head fall back.

“Let's prepare you for the ride, shall we?”

San made a space between your drained folds and his wet, sticky thigh, and he slid his hand. His two digits found your entrance without a problem. Feeling them entering you, switching from stimulating your clit to pushing your sweet spot, you were done.

“Oh fuck, fuck yes.” You cried, banging at his broad chest.

San lips attached to your exposed neck, sucking, nibbling on the sensitive skin. That did not disturb him to finger you as his life depended on it.

The release came too fast, too powerful. The pleasure seemed to be ruining. It made you subconsciously try to push him away, to slow his actions down but no use. He was unmoved. And at that moment, you realized the meaning behind his name “mountain”. It wasn't just a name. It was a warning.

And you moaned that name, whined it while tossing and turning in the arms of its owner.

“Hmmm yeeees. Cum for me… cum cum cum cum.” He led you right into the void of madness.

Waves of pure bliss hit you one after another. He pushed you slightly onto your back and hovered above you. His fingers kept reentering your walls ruthlessly. The pace fastened. San needed to fuck the last ounce of orgasm out of you. He had to see you desperate for more. And you gave that to him, you gave it all.

When your trembling began to fade, he finally withdrew his long fingers. They left your slit with a pop sound as your walls did not want to let them go.

“Mmmm, so satisfying.” He cooed with a smug look on his face.

You were soaked, dripping down on your freshly changed sheets. Only San could bring you to the state like that. Only he was able to work you out.

And he knew it too well. That was why he savored your taste on his tongue each time, collecting your essence from his digits as a reward. This was his ritual with you, and he felt like pulling the knife at any man who would try to take his place.

It was a little embarrassing to cum this hard from a foreplay. He could see it in your face. Oh, he would enjoy holding it against you later, then having you challenge him just so he could prove you the point yet again. Perhaps you wouldn't be this defeated with another man. And that thought alone stroked his ego in all the right directions. The cruel prince had awakened.

While he let you catch a breath, he sat down and took care of his shorts all wet from you and his own precum. They landed next to the shreds that once was a thong.

Nonchalantly, San went back to tower over your recovering body.

“Such a good, good girl you are, (y/n). You make me want to brag about you everywhere I go.” He focused on your lips. “And I think I will. You deserve a big kiss, baby.”

You quietly sobbed at another touch of his lips on yours. San grabbed your jaw to keep you in place so he can fully immerse in you. You grabbed onto him. Arms around his shoulders, legs embracing his waist.

“More.” You whispered weakly, breaking the kiss. “Please.”

With a merciful smirk, San embraced and secured your back. He had no trouble picking you up and sitting down with you in his arms.

“It's your call, baby.” He gently kissed your neck. “I'm all yours.”

It was your turn to move.

His cock deliciously throbbed between your legs, hard and swollen, tip tinted purple. San was more than ready. His eyes demanded you ride him until you were both sweaty messes. He clearly told you what he planned for tonight.

You gave him a few slow strokes and massaged his peak, which he awarded you for with impatient curses. Depending on the position, his length as well as width could be too much for you sometimes.

But you, adjusting to his size, was what he lived for. The tight embrace of your wall required a lot of self-control to not combust immediately. You were a challenge he would never fail to accept.

You raised your hips, teasingly sliding his tip up and down your slit. You trembled anytime it brushed your entrance.

“I know you can take it.” He encouraged you with this annoying amusement in his voice. Oh, how weak you were for this arrogant man.

Placing his hands on your thighs, he gently caressed them, drawing soothing circles with his thumbs. San began to watch the show as you welcomed him inside.

“Of fuck.” You hissed at the stretch. Supporting yourself on his shoulders didn't help. You sucked him in on your own.

The air abruptly left his lungs as your pussy graced his manhood with the first silkiest hug tonight. He wanted to act tough, intimidating with his cocky smile, but you felt like heaven.

San fought hard. You whetted his big appetite. He wished he had taken the matters in his hands, but he couldn't just pin it to you. Also, where was the fun in that? He preferred to watch you cry and struggle as he sunk deeper inside your warmth, inch by inch, without mercy.

“Shit, you're sooo tight.” He gasped out at how you began working on suck him dry.

Possessed with pleasure, San waited until you got more comfortable with his size. And the moment he felt you loosened and the relief ghosted your face, he knew he could push into you fully.

You shook on your whole body when he moved his hips up and finally reached his goal.

“Ruude.” You whimpered, feeling absolutely intoxicated all stuffed like that.

While you tried to gather your thoughts, San released your breasts from the night dress and buried his face in their plush. He inhaled the pure scent of your bare skin. You smelled sweet and spicy, exactly like your personality.

“You know me. I like being rude.” He smirked. “And I know you. You like it too.”

He was right. The struggle was real, but even that provided you with indescribable bliss. And now, when you engulfed him fully, the satisfaction was out the roof.

San firmly put his hands on your hips and moved them without a word of warning.

Waves of delight washed upon you when his tip swept over your sweet spot, “Waaait, I- ne-ed to aah!”

But he didn't listen. He couldn't stop, not with you taking him so well, not when you were dripping all over his thighs.

Under his control, you felt him reach new depths with every grind. Setting the pace, he didn't need to lead you anymore. The fullness you felt was driving you crazy. You put your head on his shoulder, hands on his back, and you rode him, deep and starving.

“If I'm your moon prince. Then what does that make you? My moon?” He asked out of nowhere as if he wasn’t just penetrating the deepest corners of your womanhood and making you lose your senses.

You couldn't answer. You could not form a single word.

“Hmm?” He was stubborn, despite swallowing his own moans. “Are you my moon?”

You mumbled something. The force his dick rubbed on your sweet spot took away your ability to think, let alone speak. You felt every beat in his veins. But San needed you to play along.

A juicy smack landed on your ass, “Are you?”

You mustered a little will to answer his demands, “Ye-es.”

He kissed your collar bone gently, which clashed with the treatment you received somewhere else.

“Then let me howl at you the whole night.”

With these words, his arms embraced your waist and shifted your whole weight onto himself. You were lifted up a little bit, enough so he had space to pound on you as freely as he could.

San began claiming you, rough and madly. His hips moved underneath you while his eyes studied every emotion on your face.

“Look at yourself.” He breathed out. “Look how cute you are, melting around my dick like that.”

Ah, yes. The mirror in front of your bed.

San never failed to remind you about it when you were getting intimate. He never failed to use it as a tool.

You didn't hang it there to watch yourself getting demolished. There was really no other place in your room to put this big mirror you bought on a very beneficial sale. But ever since you brought San in your apartment, the reflection stopped being associated with only checking your appearance.

You raised your half shut eyes at your face. You stared at how pathetic you were and how much you didn't care about it. You watched your features contorted in delight when San reached deeper and now was hitting your cervix unforgivably. You heard your own cries from the power, tears rolling down your cheeks. It felt so good, unearthly good.

The moment the frequency of your walls’ spasm grew, he sat you down on his cock again, burying his whole face in your neck. Now both your bodies rocked back and forth.

“It's too much.” You pinned your nails into his back and dragged them against his skin.

San cursed between hisses, making you look at the marks you just made. There was no blood, but the lines were getting bright red.

The was something about the way his wide back muscles moved while holding you tight, fucking you mindlessly. You focused on the tattoo that started it all. It worked on you like a flame on a moth. Every little thing pushed you closer and closer to the point of breaking. The way his body felt under your touch, how it moved with one goal - to have you scream.

He smelled like a late summer day, despite the outside weather being cold. The sweet sound he moaned into your ear made your whole existence buzz.

“I can't hold it anymore.” You informed him breathlessly. “I'm about to cum. But I can't…I can't…”

That position, despite allowing him to penetrate you the deepest, tended to exhaust you. San could tell it, by the way your movements slowed down compared to your need for release. Gladly, he had more strength than enough to take care of you.

He, himself, needed you to sob his name as he took you like an animal. San had nothing against slow, passionate sex but with you, it was simply impossible. You occupied his mind every second of the day. There were many nights he spent alone due to tours and busy schedules, sleepless nights, spent on quietly moaning out your name as his drenched cock throbbed in his hand. So when he finally had you in his arms, he let all the hunger out. San couldn't get enough of you. Calling it addiction would've been an understatement. You were his object of worship.

With the sudden overflow of motivation, he effortlessly changed your position that would allow him to give his goddess the finish she deserved. Your weakening body was laid down on its back. His pride did not slide out of you, even for a moment.

“Baby...” You called for him, but all you received was a glance, a momentary view of his eyes that were like the ones of a wild wolf.

San pulled your hips up to fuck you in the most suitable angle. His firm grasp kept you in place. The next goal was to set the pace that was going to have you cumming in seconds.

His elastic pelvis graced you with powerful yet skillful thrusts. His tip attacked your sensitive center, not letting it rest. You got even wetter, slicker to the point he didn't feel when he was going in and out of you.

“San, I'm…” You gasped, not able to make a sound. The control over your body belonged to San.

You broke beneath him.

The extreme heat accumulated in your abdomen exploded, flooding you from head to toes. Your sight blurred, heart pounded in your chest. The loud cries from the indescribable pleasure overcame any other sound in the room. There was no way to stop the severe trembling. It was too much. He was too much for your fragile, sensitive body to handle all this differently. You shattered into small pieces around him. And you would do it again and again.

San leaned above you with his hands on both sides of your head. You saw the sweat dripping down his neck and chest, and it drove you insane.

“My balls prepared a nice load for my moon.” He grunted with trouble. “And you will take it all. Every drop.”

His command, like a charm, had your cramping walls grab onto the base of his cock, their fast pulse forcely ripped the orgasm out of him.

“Ah fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” He whined, shooting his rich load inside you. You accepted his throbs and spasms like a reward, with pure bliss.

San took his time, sliding in and out, painting your walls in white with his essence. Loud curses and moans leaving his throat were a reminder that you absolutely belonged to him.

“Fuck baby, the way you tighten around me when you cum...” He groaned, melting over the satisfying sensation. “Paradise.”

You embraced him with so much appreciation and love when he laid on you, forbidding him from exiting you.

He looked at your closed eyes and their teary corners. He studied your parted lips that he wanted to kiss constantly. You were so perfect, all wasted like that.

To calm you both down, he leaned to the side and began caressing your neck with lazy smooches. Your quiet, adorable little moans in response to his affection made the blood rush in his veins again.

“More.” He whispered desperately in your ear. “I need…more.”

He paid closer attention to your bare breasts. They called for him, bouncing slightly as he began to move his hips in circles. Your erected buds hardened, caught in his skillful lips. Body decided for you. It yearned for him once more.

“Baby…” You entangled your fingers in his black hair, feeling him slowly thickening inside you.

“There is still so much I wanna do to you. I'm so horny for you, baby.” His raspy, sultry tone was enough to make your pussy flutter. And he felt that with every ounce of his being. There was no better feeling than your desire for him.

The art on his back crossed your spinning mind. You found the culprit of this insatiability.

“Damn you, tattoo.” You giggled. “I really wanted to read that book tonight.”

He lined up his face with yours and gave you that well-known, disarming smile with dimples that had you and all his fans go weak in the knees.

Little did you know, the tattoo you were now cursing wasn't his "latest whim". The moment he saw your eyes shine at the drawn one, he immediately decided to have it forever engraved on his skin. Now San had his own little trick to keep your full attention on no one else but him.

@nateezfics @hazysan 💋

2K notes · View notes

rxmqnova · 18 days

Text

Upset

Y/N: 4 years old Billy and Tommy: 6 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Y/N shuffles into the living room with a huge pout on her face, holding a teddy bear in her hand and dragging her legs towards the redhead who's sitting on the couch.

Natasha doesn't notice the tiny body and keeps her gaze on the TV. The moment she realizes is when Y/N buries her face into the redhead's thighs.

"Детка, what are you doing?" Natasha chuckles, hooking her hands under Y/N's armpits and sitting the tiny one on her lap. (baby)

Y/N looks at her, pout still present on her face on which Natasha playfully pouts back. And on that Y/N wraps her tiny arms around the redhead's neck and buries her face there.

"What got you so upset, baby?" Natasha asks softly, rubbing the little girl's back and holding her close.

"Mommy" Y/N mumble out.

"Mommy made you upset? What did she do to you?" Natasha asks playfully, an amusing smile playing on her lips.

"Mommy said: 'no, Y/N/N, I have to cook, go play with Billy and Tommy'" Y/N explains, pulling out her best acting skills. "But Billy and Tommy don't want to play with me" She sighs dramatically and drops her tiny hands on her lap.

"Well, but you haven't asked me, have you?" Natasha raises an eyebrow with a smile, making the little girl smile back.

"Will you play with me, mama?" Y/N asks with the sweetest smile, making Natasha let out a small gasp.

This is the first time Y/N's ever called her that, the first time anyone has ever called her that. Her and Wanda are dating for 2 years and she wouldn't expect any of Wanda's children to see her as a parent.

Billy and Tommy are older and even before Y/N was born, Wanda was thinking about eventually leaving Vision. To be honest, a robot who has no idea about human emotions is not a good partner.

But Wanda found out she was going to have another baby and tried to save her relationship with the robot, but it just didn't work, so they broke up. Well, and 2 years ago she got together with Natasha and she couldn't be more happy.

The fact is that Y/N is actually the first one who accepted Natasha when Wanda announced their relationship. She only just turned 2 back then, but that doesn't change the fact that Natasha was and is one of her favorite people.

Not like the twins… Vision seems to have quite an influence on them, so liking Natasha definitely isn't even close to how they feel about her. But Natasha keeps trying and hoping that some day it'll get better.

"Of course, I'll play with you, sweetheart" Natasha smiles, giving the tiny girl a little cuddle, and presses a kiss to the top of Y/N's head. "Let's find some toys"

Natasha stands up, sitting Y/N on her hip, and starts to walk to Y/N and the boys' playroom.

"Mama, you and mommy are my favorite, FAVORITE ever" Y/N says enthusiastically, making sure the word 'favorite' is loud enough while kicking her small legs happily.

"Yeah?" Natasha smiles as the little one nods. "Well, you are my favorite, favorite too, детка" She tells Y/N back which immediately brings a smile to Y/N's face as she cuddles up to the redhead. (baby)

"What troubles are my favorite girls causing?" Wanda teases, spotting the pair walking around the kitchen.

That's enough for Y/N to bring back the pout she had previously on her lips while Natasha just chuckles at the sight of Y/N's cute little face.

"Aw, what's wrong, my little monkey?" Wanda pouts back playfully, giving her daughter's tummy a little tickle.

"Well, I've heard that mommy upset her. Am I right, детка?" Natasha says, letting out a little chuckle as Y/N nods her head with the pout still present on her lips. (baby)

"What did mommy do to you, malysh?" Wanda asks playfully.

"Mommy didn't want to play with me and said: 'no, Y/N/N, I have to cook, go play with Billy and Tommy'. But Billy and Tommy don't want to play with me too, mommy" Y/N explains dramatically.

"Well, someone needs to cook the dinner, baby. What would we eat then?" Wanda asks softly with a smile before pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead.

"That's okay, mommy. Mama will play with me" Y/N's pout gets replaced by a sweet smile immediately.

"I need to cook, bubs, remember?" Wanda repeats, giving her daughter an apologetic look, but Y/N just shakes her head.

"Not you, mommy. Mama" The little one explains like it was the most obvious thing ever, pointing at Natasha and swinging her legs happily.

"Oh, mama will. I see" Wanda smiles warmly, locking her eyes with Natasha's who smiles widely back and rests her head against Y/N's before pressing a kiss to the tiny one's head.

"Have fun, you two. I'll call you on dinner" Wanda smiles, placing a kiss on her daughter's small nose that looks exactly like hers before pecking her girlfriend's lips.

Natasha just smiles back and carries Y/N away, so they could play like Y/N wanted. She's definitely excited about having a playdate with the tiny troublemaker, even more so to be her mother, help Wanda with raising her and see her grow up.

----------------------

Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was so tired xd

Anyway, it's MY BIRTHDAY!

I'M 20 TODAYYY!! <33

WandaNat masterlist

Masterlist

462 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 3 months

Note

How often do mama and Miguel get down and dirty after the birth of Rosie 😳 probably a little harder to find time with 3 kiddos

After Rosie's birth, sex left the chat room for at least three months. Torture for both, but Miguel knew you needed rest and Rosie wasn't making it any easier.

Babies are demanding and both of you were sleep deprived often. Funny thing is that when you had the chance, you both fell asleep. Too quanked to actually do anything past getting naked.

Rosie however is the heaviest sleeper among the kids. And that was perfect. You'd study almost religiously Rosie and Benjamin's nap times and learned a way to make them both sleep at the same time. Miguel really had to keep his self control on check to not take you right there on Rosie's room. Cause you, speaking his nerdy language made things to his brain.

It started as once a month, then twice a month to finally settle for twice every two weeks. Intense sessions of him plowing deep inside, leaving you happy and stuffed to the brim ~

Gaby got mad once with you both for getting her from the soccer practice almost two hours late.

"Perdón Solecito, Mama needed help with something at home."

And in truth, you needed help in reaching that good and sweet spot only Miguel could. Who was he to deny his wife?

Sometimes, he'd ask for permission to come home early and raw you silly on your evening nap.

But now that Rosie is six months old, you both get into it at every chance you have, even if it's a quickie on the laundry room, his office or even the car's trunk. He misses you, really but appreciates everything you do.

That's why he rewards you at every chance he has ~

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #soccer family ⚽🕷️#mama o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel ohara smut

538 notes · View notes

bones-of-a-rabbit · 5 months

Text

Listen. A little baby gives you a title? That’s your crown to wear now. You Are Ba-Ba Now. Sorry I don’t make the rules

(Aka, Free Baby Saga 2.0: where Pirate-Eclipse and Seamonster-Y/N have to an unexpected adoption of a baby selkie and are somehow The Best Parents ever! Bc I said so <3 )

514 notes · View notes

lesbian-deadpool · 1 year

Text

Peter, holding a candle: Test smell.

Natasha: Smell test.

Y/N: Now for the taste test.

Natasha: What?

Y/N, after taking a bite out of the candle: Yup! Sure tastes.

Natasha:

Natasha, to herself: This is my child, and who I chose to marry… what the fuck is wrong with me?

1K notes · View notes

slvttyplum · 5 months

Text

✰ suguru being a slut? a man whore? a deviant? nah

actually yes.

he’s so fucking nasty, you’re sure if you put a leash around his neck, he’ll be on all fours, purring and seductively swaying his hips.

and you fucking love it.

he wasn’t always like this: nasty, horny, sex always on his mind.

it wasn’t until you came that his dick was always rock hard.

the way you walked, the way you spoke, the way you wore your hair—everything about you was what was missing.

you were the missing piece.

it started off slow and tame, like sucking him off while driving, then him wanting to do it in public bathrooms, then him fucking you in front of a big window, then him tying you up and using you.

i can go all day, really. this man is a freak that needs to be stopped.

his hands are clung to your ass, gripping the soft flesh with his rough hands groaning.

“meow for me," he says in a soft, demanding voice. with no questions being asked and you getting fucked out of your mind, you comply.

“meowwww.”

wow that was... awkward.

it doesn’t stop there. no, no, no. this is so much bigger than him being an uncontrollable pervert.

he’s a force that can’t be reckoned with.

he records almost every time you two fuck, then gets off to it when you’re not there. you’re his cute little pornstar.

the way you’re unaware when you’re deep into lust makes his dick jump.

the way your thighs clench and legs twitch when you’re closer to climax, the way you throw your head back with drool hanging out of your mouth, the way you grip the sheets like they're running away—he loves that shit.

he analyzes what you do in those videos, seeing what you like and don’t like, what you do and don’t do, and then applies it to his fucking.

you weren’t even aware until, out of the blue, he started using new techniques that made you cum in under a minute.

he fucking loves that shit; driving you crazy is what he lives for. if he died today, his only regret would be not making you cum at least ten times in a row.

he literally has a google spread sheet of how many times you cum from what action, and makes it a goal to make you cum more than the last time.

of course, his overall goal is to make you feel good and fuck you so good you see stars and the creator himself, but who said sex couldn’t be fun?

you’re giggling, moaning, and begging; his slutty ass is a lot of fun.

729 notes · View notes

harunovella · 6 months

Text

get well soon; t.f.

synopsis: the day in the life of the fushiguro's... except you, mamaguro, is sick... cw: fem!reader, papa!toji x mama!reader, nothin but fluff, megumi's shikigami are so cute and are even cuter when they're conjured by a 5 year old, not beta read so sorry for any errors! I'm delirious rn wc: 1.2k+ an: jus a lil somethin cause I am currently under the weather and I want my fictional husband and son to take care of me

It was the softest thudding that had you stirring in your sleep. With the constant change in your body temperature, shivering in one moment, then sweating the next, you were at the point where you were about to give up on sleep. Dealing with the flu was the last thing you wanted to deal with... When was the last time you were this ill? You couldn't remember. You were the one who always cared for your husband and son, they were the ones who always got sick and you were the one who managed to dodge every virus that entered your home.

Except this time.

Hearing soft whispers, a baby voice you recognized, followed by a deeper one, you tried making out what they were saying but it was too muffled. Feeling a slight shift on the mattress followed by something tickling your nose, your eyes fluttered open to the sight of a white rabbit. Blinking a few times, eyeing it with confusion, your vision cleared as your focus settled on the small flower held by the animal's teeth.

A daisy?

Removing the blanket that had you wrapped up like a burrito, you reached a hand out to gently pet the rabbit before grabbing the flower. Studying it, your eyes shifted towards the small animal as another hopped up next to it, carrying another daisy. Carefully sitting up, slightly groaning from the aches throughout your body, you noticed a dozen or so more bunnies that sat around the floor of your shared bedroom. All holding daisies by their little teeth.

Trailing them and noticing they lead out of the bedroom, a smile grew on your lips as your son stood there. His five year old self holding a bouquet of flowers, yellows and whites that caught your eye as your heart suddenly felt heavy. "Hi, Gumi..."

"Hi, mama," he waved, "papa said I have to stay here so I don't get sick, too."

Letting out a small laugh, you nodded. You definitely didn't want your little boy getting sick, too. "Was this all your idea?" You asked, gesturing towards all the rabbits that sat around your bedroom.

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded."Papa helped me pick the flowers from the garden! I had my shiki..." Standing there, Megumi tried remembering how to pronounce the word he was looking for. His little eyebrows furrowed before he gasped and continued, "my shikigami! I had my shikigami help me bring them to you since I can't get close."

Feeling your eyes well up with tears as your nose began to tingle, you reached for your box of tissues as you blew your nose. Your son was the most precious thing in the world... how were you so blessed to have a baby boy with such a beautiful heart like his? "Thank you, Gumi... Mama wishes she could give you a big hug and endless smooches."

Slightly blushing, Megumi looked away, "mama can do it when she feels better..." His little mumbled voice made your heart do things. Oh, how you hated being sick! You just wanted to grab your son and smother him with kisses!

Sighing as you sat back against the headboard of your bed, you wore the softest smile as you eyed the flower you held in your hand. "Where's papa?" You asked.

"Was settin' up a tea for you," Toji said as he popped up behind Megumi, towering over his son as he held a mug in his hand. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight: your boy matched his father, in similar white sweaters, black pants, their sock covered feet... and white face masks. Megumi got 100% of his DNA from his father, a pure carbon copy. Not that you complained, you loved that your son was his father's mini me, the perfect duo. Though, you were glad he had more of your personality than anything.

"What's so funny?" Megumi asked as he tilted his head.

"You two are so cute, did you purposefully match?" You asked as your son hugged the bouquet closer to his chest, his timidness kicking in.

Grinning, Toji used his free hand to pat his son's head, "it was this little bug's idea. He saw how I was dressed and grabbed his pants and sweater to match while I made myself coffee. Then he asked if we could pick some flowers for you from the garden."

Frowning, you coughed a bit before looking away, "I hate being sick... I want to hug you two so bad..."

"Ah, don't worry," Toji said as he carefully walked amongst the rabbits, handing you the mug as he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. The slight chill from the wedding band on his finger made you shiver as he checked you. "You're still a bit hot, but not as bad as last night."

"You don't think I'm really hot?" You mumbled with a pout, earning a laugh from Toji.

He lowered his mask enough to kiss your forehead before he muttered, "you're the hottest woman alive" in your ear, earning a giggle from you.

"Papa! You can get sick!" Megumi called out as Toji sighed.

Stepping back and lifting his hands in defense, he shook his head, "my bad. Can't get sick or else Megs won't have anyone to play with him—"

"That's not why!" Megumi called out, causing Toji to smirk.

"What? You won't be able to take care of your old man and your mom?" He asked as he looked at his son, Megumi's eyes widened as you lifted the mug to your lips to hide your smile.

"I'm too small! I can't reach the medicine shelf!" He defended himself, causing Toji to laugh as he walked over to Megumi and lifted him up, kissing his headful of messy hair.

"I'm just messin' with you, bud," taking the bouquet and walking back over to your side to settle them on your nightstand, you gave him a small thank you. "Don't forget to take your medicine, okay?" Toji nudged his head towards the pile of on your bedside, cough drops and other products to help you recover faster. "We need you to feel better soon."

Saluting as you took the last few sips from your tea, you settled the daisy and brought one of the bunnies to your chest, "for now, I'll cuddle them since I can't cuddle my little Gumi bear."

"Wait!" Megumi exclaimed before he peeked over his father's shoulder. "Kuro! Shiro!"

Watching as the pair of pups rushed in, you smiled as they instantly sat at Toji's feet. "Are they also going to keep me company?"

"Mhm!" Megumi nodded. "So you don't feel alone!" Gesturing for the pups to join you on the bed, you welcomed the pair as they cuddled against you. "They will also protect you..." he said as if it were something to keep hushed. A small giggle left you as Toji couldn't help but grin at his son and his pure way of being.

"Alright, let's leave your mother to be so she can get some more sleep." Toji said as he patted Megumi's back. "If you need anything, just call for me."

"Okay," you nodded as he took the now empty mug from your hand. "Thank you for everything."

"Always," with a wink, Toji walked away with your son in his arm, waving goodbye as you buried yourself deeper into your warm sheets and the shikigami that surrounded you.

#haruno writes;#toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x female reader #jjk x you #jjk au #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #reader is mama fushiguro #fluff #slice of life #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x y/n

453 notes · View notes