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Two metal fingers tap rhythmically on an oak table quietly, accompanying the sound of wind whipping the trees who are unfortunate enough to be thin enough to be blown every which way. It’s snowing, yet not the kind that children would enjoy; it’s cold, almost on the cusp of being classified as a blizzard. Yet, it’s comforting in a way. A good excuse to stay at home.
For you see, it is Suguru’s birthday, and he would rather have a quiet day in than celebrate loudly like the rest of his friends. His birthday has never interested him; it hasn’t excited him since he was a teenager, eager to meet the legal age of adulthood. To him, it is but another day.
Suguru is 34 today. It’s an inconsequential number to him. It is infinitesimally meaningless to him. It is but another year, another month, another week, another day, another hour, another minute, another second. Nothing could possibly improve his day.
He isn’t sad, no. Nothing like that. It doesn’t quite feel like depression, or anger. It is much more of a lack thereof. There is no particular emotion he could tack onto why he isn’t fond of his birthday. It’s simply a void. There is nothing where there should be something. Though, perhaps he can finally find some joy in it, if he only applies himself.
The metal replacing where his real arm would have been creaks quietly as he adjusts himself in his seat and flips the page on the textbook he is proofreading for his beloved students. He would have still been asleep if it weren’t for the incessant wind, and Satoru’s excessive flip flopping around like a damn fish in the bed all night. He had half a mind to conjure his manta ray curse and pull his blankets and pillows on top of it to sleep alone.
Satoru isn’t here today, though. He’s off on a mission, and maybe that’s why Suguru’s birthday seems so inconsequential to himself now. The one person who he truly wanted to celebrate with is not here, so does it really matter? No, it doesn’t. Nothing matters.
Suguru’s tired eyes flit to the creaking metal of his cursed tool prosthesis, assessing the odd noises with a slight wariness creeping across his expression. It’s never creaked like this before, and it’s been about four years since he acquired it. Satoru had negotiated for it, under terms and conditions Suguru never quite learned, and he’s been adamant about caring for it to keep it in pristine shape since. After all, life is a lot easier now with it.
Suguru still remembers how hard it was to adjust to the loss of a limb. He had to learn how to write with his left hand, had to relinquish putting his hair up to Satoru, amongst other things. That little bit of control that he had to give up was mortifying. When he was adjusting, he was so cruel to Satoru, and he hasn’t forgotten it, no matter how many times his husband reassures him that he holds nothing against him, that he understands. It eats away at him like a bad case of necrosis.
The cursed tool that now occupies the once empty socket on his right side was an odd adjustment. Due to it being a cursed tool, Suguru now always has to keep a minimal, yet constant amount of cursed energy flowing through it, and must maintain it with specified repair tools. It isn’t difficult, but it is a bit of a hindrance.
The metal joints making up a skeletonised arm creak again as he shifts his position. Perhaps it’s the cold snap that has his arm making such worrying noises. Perhaps it isn't that worrying after all, but it won’t stop Suguru from fixating on it.
The sound of the library door creaking open joins the dissonant and disgruntling noises that emanate from his right metal arm, and Suguru picks his head up, swiveling it around to see who has joined him.
Unexpectedly, it’s Satoru, with a big fat grin on his lips. His eyes are hidden behind that blindfold he always wears in place of his shades, but Suguru doesn’t need see them to know the smile reaches his eyes, and he can almost see his husband’s brows furrowed upwards as that grin widens.
“Suguru, baby, happy birthday!” Satoru exclaims, leaning his torso across the small table, fingers pulling Suguru’s chin upwards delicately to kiss him. Their lips slot together comfortably, with practiced movements. A little sloppy, but neither of them mind particularly. No matter how perfect or how sloppy it is, they never fail to slot together as if they were two puzzle pieces made for each other.
Suguru chooses to lean into the kiss, basking silently in the warmth it provides him, a shiver of warmth igniting and running along his spine like a hot fuse waiting to explode.
Satoru chooses to deepen it, sucking on Suguru’s bottom lip piercings before letting them go, and slipping a tongue past his lips, into his mouth. Their tongues tease each other daintily, Satoru chasing that little metal ball that sits neatly in the middle of his tongue, angled backwards from his teeth. Thirty-four years old, and he still hasn’t grown out of his phase with piercings and tattoos. Though, Satoru always finds a way to comment on how attractive Suguru is to keep him wanting more.
Satoru’s lips taste like chapstick, the blueberry flavor he’s recently taken a liking to, thankfully. Suguru had long grown tired of the artificial cherry flavor, and now can look forward to the equally just as artificial blueberry flavor! At least it’s something new.
When Satoru pulls away, a small string of saliva connects them, until it snaps like a spiderweb. It drops unceremoniously onto the page of the textbook Suguru was reading, leaving a small wet stain. Unbothered, he snaps the book shut and gestures at Satoru with two metal fingers moving back and forth in a “come hither” motion.
“Sorry for being so late, baby. I had to prepare your birthday gift!” Satoru explains excitedly, perching himself comfortably onto the desk, almost purring as Suguru stands up to stand in between his legs.
Those cold, metal fingers now caress Satoru’s thigh expertly, dragging along the fabric of his uniform trousers lazily. If anything, the prosthesis is very useful in bed, Suguru feels no fatigue from it, and simply controls it via his cursed energy. It is quite useful, nay— very , very useful.
“Mhm, and what gift is that?” Suguru questions quietly, his low voice coming out almost as a hum as he lets his lips wander along the exposed skin of Satoru’s neck. The kisses are chaste, quick, fleeting like butterflies. Though he soon abandons that tactic, and instead chooses to suck a few hickeys into the skin as Satoru keens quietly, shivering as his fingers and palms grip the table.
“ Ah—“ Satoru lilts as Suguru gently scrapes his teeth along his Adam’s apple, followed by a white hot tongue laving at the skin, “— me, I’m the gift…though you’ve already started unwrapping me…” Satoru trails off, gasping quietly as Suguru’s warm hand slips down the back of his trousers.
“Well, it is my birthday, pretty boy, and if you’re my present, then who am I to stand on ceremony?” Suguru teases lightly, though he stops and his narrow eyes widen ever so slightly as he feels the distinct texture of lace on Satoru’s body. He almost never wears lingerie, and especially during the day like this, only occasionally wearing it to provoke Suguru into pegging him until he submits.
Suddenly, Suguru’s throat is dry, very dry as he gulps, swallowing loudly. A distinct heat begins blanketing his nether regions, and he can already just imagine how Satoru looks under his uniform, how pretty the lace must look against his lean athletic build.
“What are you wearing?” Suguru inquires a bit teasingly as he tugs Satoru’s uniform shirt up, up, up, and over his head. Then, the undershirt comes up, up, up, off.
Satoru’s chest is laid bare— well, not exactly. It’s almost laid bare, yet a cute little periwinkle see-through lace bralette is stretched across the wide expanse of his chest, covering his nipples safely. Goodness, he really did wrap himself up like a present, didn’t he?
And Suguru is all the more grateful for it.
“What a pretty little wrapped up present for me. Should I unwrap it now?” Suguru asks, plucking Satoru’s blindfold off his head to toss it somewhere beside the library table, not caring if it hit the floor or not.
Satoru’s eyes are almost completely black; a thin ring of cerulean is all that’s left of his natural color. They’re blown out with an overwhelming sense of headiness, showing such a depth of emotion that it leaves Suguru breathless. Enough that he can’t speak fast enough to cut off what Satoru says.
“Fuck, yes. Unwrap me Suguru, baby,” Satoru moans out as Suguru’s fingers thumb at his mesh covered nipples. “Use me, whatever. It’s your birthday…”
He’s right. Satoru is right. It’s his birthday. No one else’s, his. And what does Suguru want most in the world, other than the love, adoration and loyalty of his husband?
He wants to sit on Satoru’s face and ride him until he’s nothing but a whimpering, stuttering, gasping mess of a man, just waiting for his aching cock to be touched.
“Sit that pretty little ass on the floor and lean your head back onto the seat of the chair.” Suguru commands, allowing his metal fingers to grasp at the nape of Satoru’s neck, guiding him to his lips, kissing him one more time before he puts his mouth to better use.
Satoru obeys, as if he was made for the role.
Comfortably, he finds himself seated on the floor, against the chair, leaning his head back as far as it’ll go. His cock is already aching inside of his uniform trousers and straining against the itchy lace panties he decided to wear for Suguru. Satoru looks up to him with a smirk playing on his lips as he watches his husband undress.
First, the slippers, then the sweatpants. Of course he didn’t bother to wear any undergarments. Lastly, his faded band tee that he refuses to get rid of, even though Satoru has bought him new ones many times. He says it isn’t the same.
Suguru’s body is beautiful, every inch of it. From his puffy cunt, to the fine line tattoos that stretch around his thighs, arm and torso. That pretty happy trail that stretches down and connects to neatly trimmed hair on his cunt. The barbel jewelry sitting in both of his nipples that make sucking on his tits a far more intense experience. Such a gorgeous man that he has the pleasure to be married to. He could write poems, songs, paint beautiful watercolor pieces after his husband and his irresistible body.
With a sly grin, Suguru flicks his long raven locks to lay on his back instead of his shoulders, and straddles the chair, sinking down onto Satoru’s face. He stifles a quiet moan, and shivers as his lower lips touch Satoru’s, mounting his face completely. It always feels better this way, to ride his face instead of laying back and letting Satoru do all the work.
Suguru’s hands grip at the back of the chair as Satoru’s tongue pokes between his folds, laving gently at his outer labia, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through his spine as the heat intensifies in his abdomen. It’s electric, it’s intense, it’s wonderful. He hasn’t ridden Satoru’s face in what feels like forever.
“ Ahh,” Suguru moans, allowing himself to sink in the pleasure, letting it wash over him gently like an ocean wave. He’s loud already, no need to care when their four children are adults now, having left home years ago. There’s no reason to be quiet, he can be as loud as he wants…
…and he knows Satoru loves it.
Suguru bucks his hips once before settling into a slow, deliberate rhythm, using Satoru’s nose to rub his clit against. The rhythm grows a bit jagged, stagnant as he settles comfortably. He sits still as he feels Satoru’s tongue beginning to put the work in, shaky, yet strong hands grasping at his thighs from below. If he’s going to take it like that, he may as well take it all.
So Suguru puts his full weight on Satoru’s face.
He can hear, and feel a quiet groan come from underneath him, as the tongue continues to lick up and down his folds, lips moving to kiss after each lick. He can hear it squelch a little as his pussy continues to leak slick, while Satoru meticulously takes him apart and puts him back together again. Yet the urge to move is too strong.
So he picks up the pace again, rolling his hips against Satoru’s face, and his lips. He puts his husband’s nose to use again, rubbing it against his clit for a sense of purchase as he groans, metal fingers leaving indents in the wooden chair. He can feel it creaking underneath their combined weight, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too busy getting himself off on Satoru’s face.
He knows his husband likes it too, he was the one who suggested it after a few years into their relationship. He knew Suguru was a bit insecure and sensitive about how his body parts looked, especially with how his vagina looked, so he suggested that he ride his face. Oh, and ride his face he did. Once Suguru got rid of the embarrassment, he rode his husband’s face until he was satisfied.
“ Fuck , like that—“ Suguru groans out, head dropping forward as ragged breaths wrack his chest and lungs, “— yeah, like that. Just like that, baby,” he coos, voice quivering as he allows himself to savor Satoru’s experienced tongue lick fat stripes up his pussy.
It spells the end for him when Satoru’s tongue pokes at his hole, a finger adding itself in to stretch it open to explore. He can’t do anything except buck his hips faster. Fast enough that the chair, Satoru, and Suguru topple over. A quick flash of annoyance flits across his face before mirth crosses his features and he begins to laugh, heartily.
“Satoru—“ his own voice is cut off with a laugh as he realizes the position they’re in. Satoru is trapped beneath his quivering thighs, and the chair is discarded on its side, a crack in one of the legs. “Satoru, are you okay?” Suguru asks, lifting his thighs, and dismounting his husband’s head.
“Mhm, I’m fine. But get back on my face, I’m not done with you yet,” Satoru responds, his voice is slightly hoarse and his lips are puffy. In fact, his entire face is covered in Suguru’s fluids. It’s disgusting, nasty , filthy.
It’s so fucking hot.
So Suguru obliges, correcting their positions and mounting Satoru’s face again. They resume as if they didn’t fall over a moment ago, and Suguru is back to breathing quickly, heavily, as his husband begins to pamper his hole with his tongue, and two fingers. In this position though, he has more leeway. Leeway that he uses to brutally snap his hips down and ride his husband’s face until kingdom come.
In this position he finally finds that familiar heat begins to numb his whole body, and his eyes screw shut as he allows his orgasm to come in waves. He twitches, moans, grasps at Satoru’s short white hair with such ferocity he rips a few strands out as he orgasms. He can do nothing but shake as Satoru helps him through his orgasm, sucking on his clit with those dangerous lips of his.
Once he’s finished, he leans backwards and catches his breath, spit dribbling down his lips and landing on the floor. It takes him a moment, but he’s soon dismounting Satoru again, assessing the damage he has done to his husband’s face. Aside from the slick and the hickeys he gave him earlier, virtually nothing is wrong. Good .
He has more for the strongest to do.
“You have 33 wishes left,” Satoru groans out, chest heaving as he finally catches his breath. Thirty-three wishes? What for?
“What do you mean?” Suguru asks, bunching his long hair up into a bun with a stretched, fraying hair tie he had on his wrist.
“I was gonna tell you but I forgot. The whole thing for today is you have 34 wishes. Whatever you want me to do, you just wish for it, and if you have any wishes leftover, we can use them on Valentine’s day.”
Oh.
Oh.
Thirty-four wishes seems like a lot though, but at least Satoru thought it out. Good on him, because new thoughts are circulating in Suguru’s brain right now that he would really like to play out.
Especially the ones about Satoru fucking a baby into him.
“Fuck me stupid.” He states, a deadly serious look on his face as he stands up and dutifully bends over the library table. Something about Satoru in pretty lace lingerie gets him off to the point he’s like a rabid beast in heat, unable to control himself.
“Can do, baby.” Satoru grins, wiggling his eyebrows as he stands up and shucks his slippers, socks and uniform pants off. His fingers slide down to pull his panties off, but Suguru gives him a disapproving glare.
“Keep the panties on, I like it when you fuck me in your lingerie.”
Satoru swallows his own spit, and obeys, only pulling his cock out of the panties. From how they look, Suguru can tell it’s a thong, delicious. He always did think Satoru’s chiseled butt looked good in thongs. Though, not as good as he himself looks.
A few moments later, and Suguru hears the sound of spit hitting skin, squelching soon following after, as his husband lubes his dick up with it. It’s not like they’ll need much anyway, he’s so wet he’s sure Satoru will slip inside easily.
It’s when Suguru’s patience begins to wear thin that he feels Satoru’s cock rub against his pussy, back and forth. It’s so stimulating that a moan breaks from his chest as his fingers grip the table underneath him. But it’s not enough. He needs more. He can’t help but admit in his head that it does feel good though. He can feel every bit of Satoru’s cock as it rubs in between his folds, how it catches on the rim of his hole. It’s addictive .
Finally, Suguru feels that familiar stretch as Satoru’s cock enters him and begins a slow, snail’s pace. It’s good at first, it rocks him back and forth on the table, but eventually, it isn’t enough. Though it seems Satoru has the same thought, because he picks the pace up and begins snapping his hips at a brutal pace. The sheer force behind his thrusts is enough to send loud keens tumbling out of Suguru’s mouth.
It’s dry, he’s been moaning so loudly, for so long that his mouth is dry again. But he doesn’t say a word as Satoru fucks him over the table, his long, thick cock reaching the depths inside, enough to hit his g-spot multiple times over with each thrust.
There’s tears in Suguru’s eyes as that particular thought flits through his mind again. They have four adopted children already, but he wants more. He wants Satoru to put a baby into him. It would be the perfect birthday present. A baby.
“Baby…” Suguru ekes out, catching his breath, only for it to be knocked out as the shaft of Satoru’s cock rubs against his g-spot again. Fuck, he fucks so well. Why is he so good at everything he does, including railing Suguru into oblivion?!
“Hmm? What is it?” Satoru asks between thrusts; his hands that had been holding the table are now curling up Suguru’s smaller waist, holding him in place as he pounds into him relentlessly. His voice is just as hoarse, if not hoarser. The two of them have been moaning in tandem since Satoru slid his cock inside Suguru’s pussy.
“I want—“ Suguru is cut off by his own quiet mewl as a hand impacts his ass harshly. Satoru was always fond of slapping it, grabbing it, whatever. But he continues, unimpeded by each slap and smack sound that resonates around the room. “I want a baby, give it to me. Please, I want another one,” he cries out, a single tear cascading down his cheek.
It’s enough to warrant the stopping of his thrusts as Satoru pulls out, flipping Suguru over onto his back, and sliding him so he’s laying on the longer side of the table, legs spread open like the gates of heaven. He even hikes them behind his back, using them to anchor himself as Suguru’s hands find purchase above him, ready and waiting for him to continue.
“Yeah? You want me to breed you? Put a baby in ya?” Satoru asks teasingly, forcefully thrusting his cock back into Suguru’s loosened hole. He knows what this will get him, a husband constantly utilizing a reverse cursed technique to fill him with so much come it becomes painful…or something along the lines.
“Mhm, breed me. I want a baby, please,” Suguru breathes out, brows furrowing and eyes half lidded as his husband jackrabbits into his pussy, a long drawn out moan releasing from his chest as he tenses up.
“Gonna get you pregnant, just watch.” Satoru states in between thrusts, his eyes heady and half lidded, setting that brutal pace again, yet it’s somehow even more brutal than before, knocking a wail out of Suguru at one point.
“Gonna fill you with my seed, gonna get you all nice and round and pretty. Can’t wait to watch your tits fill with milk, fuck, can I drink it?!” Satoru asks hysterically as continues the pace, completely disregarding the fact that Suguru had top surgery and won’t be able to. “Fuck, I love you so much. I’ll do anything you want, I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll even give you another set of twins if you want, baby, fuck. ”
The declaration of love and loyalty sends Suguru toppling over the edge of a cliff and into the abyss of pleasure as he orgasms around Satoru’s cock, feeling that cool sensation of his own body squirting on himself and his husband. He can’t even contain the myriad of lilting tones leaving his mouth as he cries out, grasping at Satoru’s back with both hands, the metal one leaving scrapes along the skin.
It’s now that Satoru empties his first load into Suguru’s cunt, thrusting it deep inside. Another few minutes go by before he’s emptying a second, a third, a fourth load. There’s so much that it ekes out, and at one point Satoru’s cock slips in it, unable to slide inside for a moment before he manually stuffs it back in with a hand.
He truly is fucking a baby into Suguru, isn’t he? Because he doesn’t stop just at four. He continues, jackrabbiting into him so hard that the table creaks and sways underneath their combined weight. But he won’t stop there, it’s not a deterrent. If they break the expensive table, he’ll just buy another. It doesn’t matter, he never liked the table anyways.
There’s no talking anymore, just the sound of loud, relentless sobs, a table creaking, skin slapping and squelching accompanied by a cacophony of moans. Satoru continues to empty his seed inside Suguru’s slippery hole until he is satisfied and spent, which takes quite a while.
By the time he’s finished, the wind has stopped howling, and a gentle rain of powdery snow has begun blanketing the ice that had hailed earlier. It’s wondrous. Yet, he’s too occupied stuffing his own semen back inside Suguru’s pretty little hole, who’s all but fallen asleep. The only indicator that he’s awake is that he continues to moan quietly, even after Satoru has pulled his cock out.
“Baby…” Suguru croaks out, voice hoarse and lips slick with his own spit as Satoru bends over the table to kiss him. “Can’t breastfeed, I have no tits…”
Satoru can only giggle as he comes up with a response in his head.
“We’ll figure something out. If anything, we can use one of your wishes to make it come true, yeah?” He reassures him, peppering kisses along his face, and neck, sucking a few hickeys in for good measure.
Suguru smiles, dazed.
He does have thirty-two wishes left, and Satoru would move heaven and earth to get him what he wants.