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You make sure to be as quiet as you possibly can while shutting the door to Yuji's bedroom. After an hour of going back and forth and the small boy pleading to stay up with you and your boyfriend downstairs, you'd finally managed to get him to fall asleep.
Padding down the carpeted hallway, you turn the corner and hit the light switch off before descending the stairs. Your socks slide against the hardwood floors of the landing as you hop down the last few steps and then cross the entryway into the living room where your boyfriend waits for you on the couch.
He's leaned back into the corner of the puffy cushions, relaxed as ever in a pair of sweats and a tank top on his upper half. Both of his exposed arms drape over the backing. Upon seeing you, he flashes a lazy grin and runs his fingers through the unkempt hair atop his head.
"You finally get the little brat to go down?" he asks.
You nod and make your way over to him. "No thanks to you," you say as you sit down beside him.
He smirks and lowers one of his muscular arms to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.
"You're just such a natural with him. I didn't think you'd need my help," he says, a hint of teasing lacing every word.
Shooting him a playful glare, you scoff and scoot into his lap. "You still could've tried. He's your nephew."
"He calls you his aunt though," he teases. He leans in to nip at your cheek and nose your temple.
The words bring a slight rush of warmth to your cheeks. They're true. The little boy you just put to bed acknowledges you as part of the family just as much as he does his actual uncle. In fact, you were the one to push Sukuna into accepting the offer to babysit tonight. He hadn't wanted to, preferring to spend the evening alone with you all to himself. But integrating yourself into his life mattered to you, so he only protested a little before agreeing.
He notes your reaction to his prior statement, and his smug look reaches his eyes. "Oh come on, don't tell me that has you all flustered," he taunts, "You're too easy."
"Shut up. You said it like that on purpose," you say and pinch his arm.
Grinning at the gesture, he maneuvers the two of you around so that you're on your back and he's above. The tv casts a faint glow over the both of you, the flashing pictures painting the scenery with pale blues and washed-out pinks.
"How'd I say it, babe?" he asks.
"Like you do when you're trying to get me all worked up and stuff," you answer, tracing the tip of your index finger over the tattoos spanning from his shoulder to his arm. Your eyes flit between his piercing eyes and soft lips.
"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?" he says. But before you even get your answer out, he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat.
Your eyes flutter, a natural response to the feathery touches upon your skin. He always started out like this, tender and gentle, before devolving into his true nature. One of your arms wraps around him, your fingers trailing up the ribbed fabric of his top. The other pushes on his shoulder in a light rebuff.
"Yeah, but we can't," you protest.
"And why not?" he breathes. The puff of air fans over your flesh, chilling the parts wet with his saliva.
"Because 'kuna..." you start, trailing off a bit as he lays more kisses along your carotid artery, "We're supposed to be babysitting. He could come downstairs..."
"He won't," he interjects, "You saw how tired he was. He's out for the night. Plus he's clumsy, I'd hear him coming even if he did get up."
You sigh and bring your hand up to lace through his messy pink locks. He's pretty good at convincing you.
"Why are you so riled up anyways?" you ask in an attempt to give yourself a distraction.
He chuckles against your skin, nipping a mark onto your neck before speaking. "Is it really a mystery?" he asks.
"Yeah. What were you doing while I was upstairs?" you ask playfully.
"It's not that," he says, smirking at your cluelessness. He rolls his hips against one of your thighs and lets you feel the semi hard bulge beneath the cotton of his pants. "It's been all night. Seeing you taking care of Yuji like that, it has me thinking about what it would be like to see you carrying a baby of our own."
Your eyes snap open and look at the ceiling with sudden, wide clarity. You hadn't been expecting that at all. Your mind had been more in the realm of short-term, simpler things. Like scrolling past some porn on his phone or catching sight of a sex scene on the tv. Not the prospect of getting you knocked up.
It's not even that you're opposed to the idea. You just didn't think he would feel this way about it.
He senses your startled reaction and grinds his stiffening length against you again. "You're just so good with him. Can't help it," he mumbles.
"I- um... thanks?" you say timidly, voice still soft and shaky from the affection he's lavishing on your neck.
"Don't be so shy about it. Don't act like you haven't thought about it too," he murmurs.
The plush inner skin of your thighs presses into his sides. That was also true. You had thought of it before. After years of being together, the occasional image of him cradling a sleeping baby or boosting a small child onto his shoulders crossed your mind. You'd just kept them to yourself knowing your boyfriend wasn't exactly the lovey-dovey, wistful daydreams type.
"Yeah... I've thought about it before," you confirm.
"Mhm. That's right," he says. His hips have settled into a continuous rhythm. He rocks them between your legs. You feel the dull bloom of pleasure beginning at your center. "You'd look fuckin' gorgeous full of my baby," he whispers.
Your legs squeeze him tighter as if to draw his body in closer. Your breaths that had already been shallow come out more shuddery. It was silly almost, how hot the simple fantasies of domestic bliss could get you. The image of his large hands splayed across your swollen belly. The thought of his lips kissing over your bump, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh as they do to every other part of your body. The praises he'd rain upon your figure that expanded to accommodate his spawn.
"Yeah, I know you like that," he murmurs, "So c'mon. Let me try to put a baby in you."
"Tonight?" you squeak.
His hands slide up your sides as he nods. One of his large palms rises to paw at your breast. He gropes the mound, further stirring the arousal brewing within you.
"Yeah tonight," he says, "You feel how hard I am for you, how bad I want it. I don't think we'd have much trouble."
Involuntarily, you whimper. As much as you planned to resist, giving into temptation seemed like the only option now. It's impossible to resist him when he surrounds you like this, when he engulfs your perception so completely. You pull him closer on top of you in silent agreement. He knows your signs though, so it's all he needs.
His kisses grow rough on your neck, more set on leaving marks behind. The hand on your breast continues to toy with it while occasionally the fingers glide up to play with your nipple. It had pebbled up under your t-shirt, eager for his touch.
"You're gonna love it. Being so dependent, needing me all the time," he rasps, "And with a body like this, you were made for it."
His hands roam over your curves. They fondle and squish, intent on feeling every soft inch of you. Your clit pulses for him in anticipation of what's coming.
"And I'll be just as crazy for it, watching your body bend to my will, shaping up to carry our child," he whispers.
Another round of chills erupts across your skin. Both of you breathe heavier. You whine as his mouth migrates onto your collar bone, skimming the neckline of your top. Your chest heaves for him. Every part of you craves his attention.
Between your legs, your folds slicken with arousal, preparing for the inevitable. The throbbing from your delicate bundle of nerves only grows more intense, and you wish his fingers were down there providing you with some relief instead of lingering on your chest. Trying to get some friction on your own, you lift your hips to reciprocate him rubbing up against you, but he thwarts the efforts by pushing you back down and keeping you in place. He wants you where he wants you, you don't get to move and decide otherwise.
"Patience, doll," he tells you, "No need to rush."
Despite his words of delay however, his next move is to adjust your clothes into positions that leave you accessible to each other. He shoves his sweats down to mid thigh, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. The ache for you is practically visible to your eyes. It stands stiff with little beads of precum oozing from the tip. His fingers hook over the waistband of your bottoms and do the same to them, lowering them enough that he can get to the sweet spot between your legs.
He also tugs your shirt down, letting your tits spill over the neckline into his view. Ducking down, he latches onto a nipple while stroking himself. You hear the throaty groans echoing within him. Thoughts of your chest swelling up in the future dance through his head as you reach around to gently run your nails over the nape of his neck.
The schlick schlick schlick of his hand fisting his cock is audible from between the two of you. He bucks into his hand a few times before lining up and teasing your entrance with the tip.
"'kuna..." you whimper, lips forming into a pout.
Part of it was impatience, part of it was nerves. Either way, he glances at you, lips curled into that sinister smile.
"Don't whine, brat. You know it never gets you what you want," he chides.
The words don't ring true though because seconds after saying them, he pushes the rest of his girthy shaft into your tight little hole. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sounds pouring out of you. Your eyes roll back as a harsh breath leaves his lungs.
"That's it. No more complaining," he mutters.
He sinks all the way in, taking a moment to feel the tight warmth of you around him before pulling back and starting to pump in and out. Your hand stays clamped over your face as he grins down at you. No matter how many times the two of you fuck, he'll never grow tired of seeing your face when he first slips it in.
You gush around his cock as he thrusts. His movements are measured and small, but they still strike hard and raw. The heated skin of your ass bounces against his thighs every time he slams forward. Each motion pushes you harder against the couch.
Soft mewls leak out against your palm. It all feels so good. His body caging yours down. The swollen head of his cock nudging all the sweet spongy spots inside of you. Even the sight of him above you stokes the flames of lust burning in you. His muscles flex as he holds himself up and slides into you over and over.
"Squeezing me so much, doll. You want this bad, huh? Wanna make me a daddy?" he taunts.
You bite your lip under your hand and nod eagerly. Another needy moan seeps from you as his hand comes down and presses on your belly. The sensation makes your hips squirm. You tighten up more around him.
"So good for me, takin' it like this," he grunts, "Doing what you're meant to."
Your eyes flutter as you respond with another weak nod. Looking down, you catch the faint bulge that appears with every jolt of his pelvis. The sight is enough to spur you closer to the edge. You reach up for his shoulders, pulling a bit to get him closer.
He obliges your gesture and lowers himself on top of you, your bodies flush against each other now as he grinds himself deep inside of you.
"You're gonna look so fucking good, all rounded out for me. I'm gonna want you knocked up until you can't give me any more," he murmurs.
You feel his lashes flutter against your neck before his teeth sink into your neck. The bite isn't hard enough to draw blood or really hurt, just gives you a nice little sting. A small shock of pain to mix in with the pleasure.
"Fill me up, 'kuna. Wanna feel it take," you whisper, your voice breathy and broken up by whimpers.
"Oh it's gonna take," he grumbles.
He keeps rutting into you on the couch until he feels himself reaching that high. Like he usually does with you, he keeps his face against your neck when he cums. His groan vibrates against your sweaty skin while cum spurts into you from his tip. He moves in erratic beats, losing his sense of rhythm.
Your legs lock around his waist, and you keep him pressed close as can be as you reach your own peak. Rocking your hips upward, you meet his handful of final thrusts. You manage to stay quiet through it before finally sliding your hand off of your face. A full breath fills your lungs.
As you come down, you melt into the couch cushions below. He stays on top of you, catching his breath. His body rests there, boneless and limp. He doesn't pull out, just stays there for a few moments.
When he finally does detach himself, he lazily lifts himself up and slides back. He fixes his clothes and yours, looking down at you a bit softer than before. A softness he would never verbalize, of course.
Instead of talking, he flops over and squeezes in beside you on the couch, slotting himself between your side and the backing. He wraps an arm around your waist. His eyes casually land on the tv.
"Try not to move too much. We want it to take," he mumbles and nestles his face against your neck again.