Archive of Our Own ^beta

A Sanrio claw machine.

It’s what Sukuna sees when he turns around upon losing Satoru’s hand in his. Satoru’s raspberry glossed pout perches on a straw while he’s drinking from his strawberry lemonade cup, his round bright blue eyes fixate at the claw machine. Sukuna can see from this angle and it doesn’t even require him to scoot forward to see it properly—he just knows why he’s pouting like that.

And there’s also something that swells in Sukuna whenever he sees Satoru like this—the instinct to become a dutiful husband (boyfriend). The plan to spend their coins on the basketball machine chucks to the side, Sukuna moves forward and ignores Satoru’s whines.

“Don’t—” Satoru says and clutches on the hem of Sukuna’s shirt.

Sukuna ignores and inserts coins needed to start the game. “I want to try.”

“You’re not gonna get it. These machines are rigged.” Satoru sighs by his side.

“Don’t belittle me, baby.” With a tight determined grip on the control and two fingers that easily hovers the button, Sukuna starts playing.

“Alright, if you manage to get that cinnamoroll one, I’ll give you anything in return.” Satoru lets out another sigh—one that doesn’t seem to expect anything positive out of it.

The thing is—there’s something beneficial when Sukuna becomes cocky. If he says he’s gonna get something, he’s gonna speak it into existence. It gets worse when Satoru motivates him—especially when Sukuna wants to show off.

Therefore, he promises Satoru that he’s gonna get that cinnamoroll plushie in under five tries. As far as Sukuna’s spatial awareness during his tunnel vision goes—focusing on the goal—if he remembers correctly, it probably would’ve taken the whole arcade guards to hold him down and prevent him from destroying the poor claw machine every time he picks up the wrong plushie (Fuck you, Hello Kitty) or when the stupid cinnamoroll won’t just fall into the—

“This fucking machine is rigged.” Sukuna rasps out and runs his fingers through his jet-black hair in frustration.

“I told you, it’s pointless,” Satoru sighs with an empathetic smile. “It’s not really important. We can just leave it.”

Sukuna goes for his sixth try, he interjects. “What’s important to you is important to me.”

And from Sukuna’s peripheral vision, he sees Satoru burying his face against his own palm.

Sukuna would’ve probably have covered the arcade’s monthly tax with the coins he placed after multiple tries. Either way, he lifts the cinnamoroll plushie into the sky like a goddamn baby saying its first word or like Rafiki lifting up Simba into the sky.

And it probably looks like he wanted the plushie more than Satoru.

Almost.

When they got back in their hotel room, the cinnamoroll is the only thing that occupies Satoru’s arms—can’t stop hugging and squeezing on it. Can’t even bother holding Sukuna’s hand in his. Sukuna considers shoving the plushie back into the claw machine and getting a refund.

Satoru gets in the shower after placing the plushie in the middle of their bed and its head on the pillows—like a mother tucking a newborn to sleep.

The whole time Satoru’s in the bathroom, Sukuna is having a beef with the poor toy that if his gaze could pierce a hole through it, it really would. If he can cast a spell on it, it could reduce it into ashes either.

“How long have you been brooding like that?” Sukuna hears Satoru laugh as he steps outside of the bathroom.

His oversized long-sleeved shirt hikes up when he dries his hair with a towel and walks past Sukuna.

And Sukuna just—poor boy just freezes on spot when he sees those white panties that peeks from the shirt.

Sukuna coughs, ever not so slick. “Ever since you let go of my hand.” He simply answers but there's a tone of uncertainty at the end, coming off as a question rather than plainly pointing out the obvious. He regrets it quickly—the pretense of his tone. If he's Satoru, he's sure his jealousy comes out raw between those words.

Satoru lets out a laugh. Sukuna feels like his boyfriend figures him out right away as Satoru slumps his front body against the bed with a foot in the air, cockiness and certainty in it especially when he smiles at him.

There goes his arms wrapping around the plushie and Sukuna should be feeling jealous but—the panties, the fucking white cotton panties that hugs that pert ass makes him wanna—

“Are you jealous over a plushie?” Satoru teases and muffles his laugh against the plushie.

Sukuna should’ve been throwing him a glare from all these teasing but the position he’s in easily exposes the cute white panties underneath. Instead, four of his fingers curl around his thumb in a tight fist. He is in no place to glare at Satoru when he's the one who insisted getting the plushie in the first place, right? Especially when his current view is rewarding alone already. The cotton white tight panties hugs Satoru's pert ass adorably and Sukuna recalls how his hands easily hovers on those cheeks.

He almost forgets why he's brooding in the first place.

“No.” Sukuna defensively answers and he gets caught in a stare when Satoru turns his head towards his direction. His flushed cheeks pressed against the toy and a sweet smile while he plays with his foot in the air. It makes Sukuna wonder—if this kind of sweetness he exudes is accumulated from the desserts he consumed over the years of his existence because—

Sukuna is sure. He hates sweets. Sometimes, it’s Satoru’s stupid reasons to say that he orders two neapolitan ice cream for each of them when—Satoru knew damn well Sukuna won’t even finish it and it’ll end up with him having two desserts instead of one. But now—

Now. Sukuna thinks he can feast on this sweet darling on their hotel bed. He thinks he can eat him whole, really.

“You’d give me anything in return, won’t you?” Sukuna asks, recalling Satoru’s offer earlier, as he perches up from the chair and walks towards Satoru, fiddling softly on his white strands.

Satoru smiles. The apple of his cheeks protrudes and calls Sukuna to stroke on them softly. “Anything.”

And it takes sheer iron willpower not to press his bulge right on those cheek, really. If Sukuna gives in, he might’ve smacked his cock’s heftiness all over his pretty face and smear it nasty with his pre-cum. Should’ve been a great idea too. Sukuna could just stroke his hard cock and rest his balls on Satoru’s awaiting mouth, ignoring his whines about wanting to suck on his cock instead but—Sukuna knows, knows how Satoru would take anything given to him.

“Can you stay just like that for me, baby? Hug that plushie for me?” Sukuna asks.

“Hug it?” Satoru raises a brow with a smile. “Are you sure? Thought you’re jealous of it.”

“Never said I’m jealous of it.” Sukuna replies and the bed sinks to his weight upon hovering Satoru from behind. He crawls until his head is in between Satoru’s thighs. Tight white panties that hug his pert ass greets him in full glory. He snaps its gusset and lets it smack against his boyfriend’s pussy. Satoru gasps.

From this angle, Sukuna can see Satoru obliged—hugging the plushie tight. Satoru’s movement easily hikes his top falling over his back that accentuates the dips of it. The hem of it no longer falls on his ass. Sukuna lets out a breathy moan and his sweatpants turn tight, resorting him to hump on the hotel bed sheets.

“Do I rip these panties or do I have the patience to properly take them off of you?” Sukuna asks, not sure if he’s pertaining to Satoru or himself as he questions his own conundrum because now—he just wants to bury his tongue in between those folds but also savor Satoru’s pliantness.

He pushes himself up with his fist and kneels. Then he tugs on his sweatpants, chucking it with his underwear down until his fat hard cock swells up, causing it to smack right on his stomach, and smearing his pre-cum there. He thinks it’s the fastest record he’s ever dragged his pants off of him because if he won’t do anything at this moment, he might bust a nut right away so—

He hooks his finger on Satoru’s panties and lifts it to nestle his cock there—right in between his ass and the soft tight cotton—he starts humping slowly. It’s messy but it’s tight, enough to make him shudder, but never enough to mimic the tightness of Satoru’s pussy.

“It’s nice not to see you get so bratty, baby.” Sukuna almost laughs and dips his head down to press a kiss behind Satoru’s ear. “D’you like it when I molest you like this? You in your panties?”

Satoru tilts his head with his lips against the plushie. “Nn… Feels nice.” He moans. “And too tired. Just wanna please you. I’m surprised I still managed to take a shower.” He says.

“Do you, now?” Sukuna smiles and humps pathetically more into the tightness. The shape of his cock evident against Satoru’s white panties. “Shame. I could’ve sniffed your panties after that whole long day. Should’ve been the one being humped instead of this new one.” Sukuna whispers hotly against Satoru’s ear.

Satoru whines and covers his face with his palms. “That’s nasty, ‘kuna.”

And Sukuna conceals an upcoming laugh that sits on his tongue because it isn’t all too nasty. Yet. At least.

To be truthful, Satoru's hair smells like berries after he showers—he likes to sniff them. Sukuna loves to think about Satoru under the shower—water trickles on his soft pale skin, droplets sliding down on his body, down to his pussy. 

If he’s honest, he can also eat Satoru’s pussy unwashed and sniff him all up after a long day.

Either way, Sukuna salivates from the thoughts alone.

And if he’s more honest—he can just cum like this. Like a dog pathetically humping on Satoru’s panties and cream it nasty. That—that could be a really great example of how nasty it should be.

There are a lot more filthy, deranged and questionable things that Sukuna is capable of doing to Satoru, and he's sure that Satoru would let him do those things to him without any questions. 

But now—he finally decides to pull those panties off of him to his ankles and before Satoru can wriggle out of Sukuna's hands to kick off the abandoned panties, Sukuna's large hands on each of Satoru’s asscheeks pins him down. His thumb parts the crevice of his ass, dragging them softly down as if inspecting thoroughly—until his pussy folds just separates, flutters open to his ministrations.

Trickle of spit falls from Sukuna’s lips down to the crevice of Satoru’s ass and Sukuna watches it all—watches how he glistens more with spit, watches how it rolls down to his folds, watches how easy it is to sink his thumb between those puffy pussy lips. Sukuna traces the slit—pussy fluttering softly around his finger.

“So fuckin’ pretty. Such a pretty pussy, ‘toru.” Sukuna praises and both of his thumbs parted Satoru’s flesh, unraveling two of his holes in between and he runs a long fat lick on them.

Sukuna’s tongue flicks on those soft puffy folds while he kneads Satoru’s ass. Satoru can only whine from all of it. Now one thing isn’t for certain—if Sukuna is slobbering way too much on Satoru’s cunt or Satoru is just sloppily wet from all of it.

Both mutually resent the hotel room at the lack of mirrors and express their longing for their home already. While it’s true that Satoru likes seeing himself getting fucked by Sukuna, Satoru likes hearing them more from him.

Sukuna decides that his baby can have both.

With lazy rubs of his cock’s head against Satoru’s plush wet pussy folds and a few impatient humps where he buries his girth in between them, Sukuna successfully does his best to lay his phone horizontally against the nightstand lamp with the front camera on. He stares at those bright blue eyes and the recognizable tint of flush across Satoru’s cheeks though being squished against the cinnamoroll plushie.

It really is adorable how Satoru looks like the plushie in his arms—both competed for round blue eyes but Sukuna knows the toy is nothing compared to Satoru's beautiful ones.

Sukuna can’t help but to snicker softly at the view and press wet lewd kisses across Satoru’s shoulder, to the side of his neck, and on his nape—his nose being tickled with his white soft hair. His thumb eventually finds its way to part his ass cheeks once again, spitting on it once more before his thumb grazes against the rim of his hole, dragging the wetness along his folds.

He watches Satoru’s mouth part in a silent moan as he pushes his head inside until he’s balls-deep inside of him—which doesn’t require much permission since Satoru’s tightness just sucks his whole fat cock in.

A long, drawn out moan tumbles from Satoru’s lips when Sukuna finally bottoms out. Sukuna aches for a moment to grab the phone to record the whole moment but the warmth and tightness of Satoru’s pussy just makes him weak—it really feels like melting inside.

Sukuna thrusts his cock from the base to his tip, head tilting down to watch those tight pussy walls get dragged along with it and suffocate his girth. He lets out a sharp amused blow along with Satoru’s long loud shameless moan. His other hole really looks inviting and Sukuna just gives in by sinking his thumb into it, earning a whimper from Satoru.

“N-not there, ‘kuna…” Satoru whines.

“We should try it here really soon, baby. Might be jealous of the spoiling I give to your pussy.” Sukuna laughs and trickles another spit on his ass hole, fucking it inside. He hopes the record catches the obscene wet noises of it.

“We could try it, really. Wanna cream these pretty fuckholes with my load. Sounds great, isn’t it?” Sukuna hums. His arm slides in between Satoru’s body and the plushie just to wrap it around his neck—headlocking him in place with a gentle pressure. Not even minding if he’s towering his body over Satoru’s body—imposing his bigger, heavier, and muscular frame.

His mouth presses kisses against the back of Satoru’s ear and starts pummeling into his pussy—withdrawing his cock to the tip and ramming it roughly until his balls smack against Satoru’s wet folds. There’s a slimy, almost sticky sensation when his balls slap against it that encourages him to keep going whenever he hears its contribution to the obscene noises that swells the hotel room. Satoru’s wetness and whines, creaking of the bed, and Sukuna’s grunts whenever Satoru’s pussy protests in a clench whenever he pulls out.

Satoru nods continuously and cries out, “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, Daddy. Breed me. Breed my pussy first, please!”

And who is Sukuna to say no?

His hips practically start bouncing off against the back of Satoru’s thighs at how rough and ruthless his pace has become—and it’s like he’s smacking Satoru’s ass at the same time too. His arm tightens around Satoru’s neck which becomes wet. Sukuna intently gazes at Satoru through the phone—which fails greatly to create an eye contact with Sukuna because his eyes are long gone to the ceiling, rolled, crossed, and lost to the immense feeling of being pounded from behind.

Sukuna groans because—it’s too fucking lewd. He always tells himself that he will always handle Satoru when he physically looks like his headspace is reduced to nothing—ending up looking like a willing fucktoy like this. In actuality, if Sukuna doesn’t squeeze his own eyes, he would probably spill his load early inside of Satoru’s pussy.

So he does—he buries his face against Satoru’s nape. “Fuck. Get off your pills and let me get you pregnant.” He grits his teeth and slips his arm off of Satoru’s neck. Satoru whines at the loss of it but whimpers when Sukuna grabs him by his jaw, black trimmed manicured fingers squishing his cheeks with a single hand. “Would you like that, baby? Barefoot and pregnant with Daddy’s kid?” He asks and emphasizes further with ruthless pounds.

Satoru nods eagerly and sobs. “Yes, Daddy. Would love it sososo much. Give it to me.”

Sukuna grabs a handful of Satoru’s hair and pushes the side of his face against his plushie. Satoru moans at it and Sukuna pounds him faster. “Fuckin’ take that cock.” He hisses between his teeth.

“Yes, Daddy. Just—just like that,” Satoru chokes out a moan and his pretty white eyelashes damp from his own tears. “Gonna cum like this…”

When Satoru cums, it’s immensely hot and tight around Sukuna’s cock. Sukuna fucks him through it thoroughly. Every thrust turns too sloppy. The stickiness lingers on Sukuna’s skin and balls whenever he thrusts out. The sensation demanding him to fuck back inside.

Satoru tilts his face back until his head rests against Sukuna’s chest, tongue lolling out ever so sluttily and Sukuna watches it all. “In my mouth, Daddy. Spit in my mouth.”

Now that—that demands and requires him to take a breath. Though it comes off as a sharp inhale where every coolness crumbles into dust, he does anyway. He needs to anyway. “You really make it hard for me to go soft on you, Satoru.” Sukuna says and collects a ball of saliva in his mouth before spitting it right on Satoru’s awaiting tongue.

Satoru moans upon feeling Sukuna’s spit landing on his tongue and swallows it. After doing so, Sukuna catches him proudly showing off his tongue, with no traces of Sukuna’s spit on it, at the phone’s camera with his tongue lolled out.

“Fuckin’ slut.” Sukuna's lips purses, amused, and he kisses the side of Satoru’s neck, slipping the pad of his tongue against his neck.

“Put your arm around me again.” Satoru demands in a whisper. Sukuna obliges and places an adequate pressure around it, earning another moan from Satoru. “Fuck, just like that. Thank you, Daddy.”

“What else are you thankful for?” Sukuna laughs softly.

“Thank you for the cinnamoroll plushie…”

“Told you, I’m gon’ get it for you, don’t I?” Sukuna snorts softly and smirks. It’s funny to get so cocky when he’s balls-deep in Satoru as if he got it under five tries like he promised.

But they got the stupid toy under them now, don’t they?

He takes a mental note not to make two promises at once but god, it really is hard not to spoil Satoru like this.

Sukuna seals their lips in a deep messy kiss. The headlock serves as a leverage on fucking Satoru deep and brutally, letting his hips smack repeatedly against Satoru’s flushed ass. “Raise your hips for me, baby. Wanna play with your clit.”

Once Satoru pliantly lifts them, Sukuna slips his hand and rubs on his clit in circles while ramming into him continuously. He sees Satoru hugging his plushie close and his moans become shaky, breathy, very familiar.

“Don’t you fucking dare wet these sheets, Satoru.” Sukuna warns.

“It’s coming, Daddy. I can’t—” Satoru protests in a whine.

Shit, shit, shit.

“We’re in a hotel—”

“Please! Daddy!” Satoru sobs, muffling them against Sukuna’s arm with his eyes shutting closed. Fuck. Sukuna knows it’s really coming. Pulling his hand out would be so useless if Satoru’s grinding his clit against his unmoving fingers now.

“Told you to leave that strawberry lemonade.” Sukuna groans in his brief lecture about some stupid drink that Satoru refuses to leave at the food court table yet—yet his pounds don’t even stutter, yet—knowing he has much more strength than Satoru, enough to pull his hand out from Satoru’s clit if he really needs to, wants to all because—

He’s been so familiar with Satoru’s expressions whenever he’s about to squirt or cum. He becomes too shaky and more whiny about it or the way he tightens immensely around his cock that it almost could choke it.

And a muffled broken squeal is heard along with the abrupt hot gush on his palm.

Guess they can just… leave a big tip to the hotel cleaners or request for new sheets.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy. Come in my pussy, please.”

Impatience hangs heavy in his chest and the next thing he knows, he’s flipping Satoru around to face him. His hands press against the underside of his thighs and folds Satoru in half. The position grants Sukuna to see his pussy being stuffed and split open with his fat cock—even his glistening puffy folds flutter open from it. Sukuna drags his thumb over his clit and watches how Satoru shudders from it.

He’s embraced in a tight hug—delicate lean limbs around his body as his hips move on its own. When Sukuna comes, he shudders. He fucks each spurt inside as if he’s sealing the deal of knocking Satoru up—all of it inside Satoru’s pussy. If he has to plug him up with his balls, he fucking will. He steadies his pace and slows down. Sharp deep slams. Satoru lets out huffs from each of Sukuna's rams. His cheeks flush and his soft white hair tussles from the strong impact. His cunt throbs tighter around Sukuna's cock as if milking him at every drop. Pinning Satoru’s folded legs right on his chest, Sukuna wonders most of the time, he’s in awe at how flexible Satoru can be.

“That’s it… All in me, Daddy.” Satoru moans and clenches around him, refusing to feel any more trickle of loads out of his pussy.

“You’re fucking crazy, baby.” Sukuna sighs and lifts his hips up just a bit to see Satoru’s pussy. It’s almost Pavlovian whenever he spills inside of him. The view and the fact where his pussy can’t actually handle his load—inevitably seeing his cum seep out of him.

And it’s the view that urges him to go immediately for a second round.

But for now, he pulls out and smacks his girth against Satoru’s folds. Hearing the slick, the undignified sound it makes. Eventually, he notices the damp puddle of squirt on the sheets. He lifts Satoru’s thighs to take a good look at it. For sure, it will leave a nasty reek of sex in the poor hotel room.

He considers reaching out for the phone to dial services and requests for new sheets but—

Satoru holds his own folded thighs, spreads himself apart and reaches out for Sukuna’s cock then smacks it on his puffy folds. He’s stunned with the view; Satoru grazing its head against his clit, tracing his slit down to his other hole.

“D’you wanna try it here tonight?” Satoru asks teasingly and licks his lips curiously.

And maybe, maybe.

To think of it, Sukuna’s doing the cleaners a favor when he drops the hotel telephone back in place. Maybe new sheets can wait after they’re done soiling the current one under them. 

That—if Sukuna won't pass out with his cock buried inside Satoru's pussy until morning.