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a/n: so excited to finish up and post the rest! hope you enjoy <333
“What the fuck?” You sit up in bed, looking down at the threadbare bedding before scanning the rest of the room.
Small, sparsely furnished, singular window.
A sleeping body in the bed right beside yours.
Your best friend sits up quickly, looking around with wide eyes, “Where are we?”
“Girl-” You start.
“I knew we shouldn’t have shaken hands with that weird guy in that alley,” she sighs heavily, standing and approaching the window. “Look at this.”
You stand up, walking over to her, looking out into a huge trimmed garden. It almost looked like you were in a large estate from those period pieces you liked watching.
A sharp knock against the door had both of you jumping, looking at the door like it might explode.
A petite woman throws the door open, smiling at the sight of you, “Good, the both of you are up!”
You share a look with your best friend, a thousand words passing between you before you look back at the woman who is waiting patiently for a response.
“Yes, we have risen,” you answer, rather clunkily if you had to critique yourself.
Your best friend hardly hides her snicker at your idiotic attempt to speak in the same manner as this woman.
“I understand you both arrived yesterday, but we are quite prompt around here,” the woman had a disapproving look on her face as she surveyed your sleepwear. “Please change into your work attire and meet me in the hallway.”
“We shall be out in a second,” your best friend answered, a smile gracing her face.
You both were in deep shit.
When the door shut behind the woman, you both looked at each other again, fighting the laughter bubbling up from the depths of your souls as you approached the wardrobe.
As you were quickly coming to understand, somehow the two of you ended up as maids in a royal palace, figuring out this era only seemed possible by having your best friend with you.
You both struggled trying to figure out how to put everything on, this time’s idea of underwear was ridiculously complicated, you thought.
By the time you ended up in the hall, the woman had a furrow between her brows.
“If you both will follow me,” she said rather curtly as she took off down the steps.
You both stayed close behind her, constantly eyeing each other as either of you noticed something new about your surroundings. Whatever era you’d ended up in was rather luxurious for whoever occupied this estate.
“The King is very particular about his library, but it is rather easy to maintain,” the woman spoke over her shoulder as you finally reached the ground floor after about five flights of stairs.
Getting back up was going to be miserable, but at least you were sure you were in a palace. Working for the King of this era, whoever that was.
“I will be placing you both with one of our senior maids, Miss Yoshido will help you both become well acquainted with your tasks for today,” she continued speaking as she led you through hallways, both of you fighting your surprised gasps as you finally exited the servants quarters and walked into a large open hallway.
“This is the west wing main hall, you will find yourself here every time you wish to go to your quarters,” the woman continued walking in stride, oblivious to your wandering eyes.
The ceilings were incredibly high, you couldn’t imagine how tall they were in the main part of the palace. Large white pillars framed the perimeter of the walls, intricate paintings placed between each pillar. Plush royal blue carpets were running the length of the floors, gold oil burning lamps and sconces decorated throughout the space.
She led you towards the large staircase at the end of the hall, a huge window behind the staircase illuminating the entire space. As you both climbed the stairs behind the woman, you wondered how you would get back to your timeline.
If you were even in your world anymore, you thought.
The woman led you through a few more hallways before arriving in front of two huge oak doors, continuing in stride as she threw the doors open revealing the largest library you’d ever seen.
The walls were covered in bookshelves, the domed ceiling an intricate stained glass design that had colorful light bouncing off every surface. There were spiral staircases in the corners leading up to the large second floor, along with plush furnishings spaced throughout the space.
It was a bookworm's dream.
There was a tall woman with a few extra supplies standing near the doors, a smile on her face as she watched your group approach.
“Miss Yoshido,” the woman leading your group waved at her, you noticed she was the happiest you’d seen her this morning.
“Mrs. Sato, thank you for bringing them to me,” Miss Yoshido smiled at you and your bestie, the two of you returning similar grins.
“If you need me I will be in the east wing, the Duke is arriving tonight, there is much to prepare,” Mrs. Sato fanned her face before turning around and rushing back the way you three came.
“I am Miko Yoshido, it is a pleasure to meet you both,” Miko smiled at you both as you gave her your names. “We are expected to dust, polish the floors, wipe all surfaces, adjust any furniture as necessary, everyday.”
“Quite a lot, does one person do this daily?” You asked, your eyes drifting around the massive space.
“It is usually a team of five, but they have taken two for the preparations for the Duke,” Miko laughed nervously as she handed you both dusters. “I will take one side if you two will handle the opposite?”
“Perfect,” your best friend answered, grabbing your hand and rushing over to the opposite wall.
“I don’t know how the fuck we’re supposed to get through this,” your eyes were darting around as you began dusting the lower shelves.
“We just need to find someone to send us back,” she responded.
“Okay, but until then? I don’t know how to polish floors bro,” you whispered yelled at her, working across more shelves with your duster.
“Miko seems nice enough to show us,” your best friend responded, keeping a level head.
“Yeah and then the entire staff will think we’re idiots,” you huffed.
“Better than getting fired,” she answered in a quiet sing-song tone.
The two of you worked through your tasks, Miko indeed showing you anything you were unsure of with a smile on her face. She was a really nice person, the perfect person to have your first day with as she patiently answered any question you threw her way.
By the time the three of you finished, you were all covered in sweat, a nice meal on everyone’s mind as you made your way towards the west wing.
“The west wing of course, houses the palace kitchens, we take our meals in groups in a small dining area down there,” Miko kept her voice low as you walked through the hallways.
“Down there is where the Duke will be staying,” she pointed to a hallway just down the way from the library. “Him and the King are quite good friends, both of them are kind men should you ever work a dinner service with them.”
“Are either of them good looking?” You asked, half thinking about who in the palace might have information on how to get you back to your timeline.
“I do not believe it is my place to comment,” Miko’s face was bright red as she frantically scanned the halls for anyone else.
“Suppose it was your place, what would you say then?” Your best friend asked, nudging Miko’s arm.
“Well,” Miko looked around once more, slowly leaning towards you both as she lowered her voice, “I would say both are incredibly handsome.”
“And?” You prompted, wondering how boring this era must be if you couldn’t gossip freely.
“You will see soon enough,” Miko assured, wiping her hands on her apron as she straightened up.
By the time you three reached the kitchens, you were starving and extremely thirsty. Miko showed you to the water station before showing you how you were expected to serve your food and where to sit.
You had already finished an entire glass of water by the time you sat down, standing and refilling your glass before sitting down for the first time in hours.
“What do we do after this?” Your best friend asked.
“We are done for the night, you may wander the west wing freely,” Miko answered, digging into her stew.
“Only the west wing?” You asked, a small frown playing on your face.
“We do not need more, the west wing has much to be seen especially since it is your first official day here,” Miko assured you both, a look of confusion painting her pretty face.
“Of course,” you nodded along, worried about raising any suspicion.
The three of you fell into easy conversation, Miko laughing at you and your best friend's odd banter.
“You must have known each other your whole lives!” She said through laughs, her arms going around her waist.
“Feels like it,” you smiled over at your bestie, thinking of all the memories you’d made together.
“Yeah, it does,” your best friend rolled her eyes lovingly, pushing her shoulder against yours.
“I might retire to my room soon, would you like a tour before then?” Miko asked, standing as she gathered your plates and cups.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” you smiled at her, taking the stack of plates and cups from her hands before she led you to the dish washing station.
You quickly washed everything before following her out towards the opposite hallway you’d taken this morning.
“The King is quite generous, he has given us our own library and garden space,” Miko commented, leading you two down the hallway and off to the right. She pointed to one doorway, “In there is the library, and if we continue this way we will reach the door to the garden.”
“Is there anywhere else we should know?” You asked, looking down the hallway towards the doorway leading outside.
“They are having a dinner party tonight, you did not hear this from me if you are caught, but you could possibly roam the castle. If anyone stops you, you lost your way, but again, you did not hear that from me,” she said conspiratorially, looking you both in the eyes.
“Hear what?” Your bestie answered, shrugging her shoulders.
“You two are just so funny! I have never heard anyone speak the way you do, where did you say you were from?” Miko asked with a small laugh.
“Far away, honestly I forget, we moved when I was so young,” you answered airly, hoping she didn’t press anymore.
“We all get that way at some point, I suppose,” she smiled. “Right, I will be on my way to bed. You two enjoy yourselves though!”
“Goodnight,” you smiled back.
“See you tomorrow!” Your bestie waved at her as she turned and started walking away. When Miko was finally far enough away she turned and looked at you with one brow raised, “What are we about to get into?”
“She practically told us to go explore,” you shrugged, leading the way back towards the west wing main hall.
“Basically,” your best friend agreed, staying in step with you as the two of you walked quietly.
When you were finally back in the main hall, you took off down the direction leading towards the gardens you spotted out of your window. The hallways were empty, apparently everyone really was gathered for the dinner service or in bed already.
You passed by plenty of bedrooms, the two of you sticking your heads into them without a care in the world.
“I don’t understand why we can’t sleep in any of these if they’re all unoccupied,” you huffed.
“Unoccupied? Since when have you ever used that word,” you best friend laughed at you, shaking her head.
“Maybe this era is rubbing off on me, don’t be a hater,” you rolled your eyes, continuing down the hallway.
“Bye,” she laughed.
You finally popped into a room that wasn’t a bedroom, the space clearly an art space if the discarded canvases and paint were anything to go by. You wondered if the room was for anyone in the castle now or a visitor, maybe the King had a family.
You’d be surprised if he did, you thought, you hadn’t heard anyone mention a Queen, or even a prince or princess.
“These rooms are pretty boring,” you noted.
“Let’s go to the gardens, we can pick another place to wander to after we get some fresh air,” your bestie suggested, taking your hand in hers as she led the way down the rest of the hall.
The landing to the gardens was massive, a large polished space with furniture and oil burning lamps that were currently lit as the sun began fading behind the horizon. The huge staircase was centered in the landing, leading down to the spacious and well-kept gardens.
The two of you descended quickly, running into the trimmed hedges to avoid anyone seeing you. When you were sure you were out of view, you found a small archway with a bench underneath, the flowers growing up the arches hanging down over your heads.
“Do you hear that?” You tilted your head, focusing on the music drifting from the palace.
You looked over at your best friend to see her already milly rocking, the two of you froze, staring at each other before you burst out laughing.
“I know you’re fucking lying,” you wheezed.
She started back up, freestyling to the rhythm of the piano and strings that were drifting from what you assumed was the dining room or maybe even ballroom.
She passed it to you, laughing as she watched you start moving. You let your mind forget where you two were, all that mattered was that you were with your best friend as you danced.
Neither of you were the type of people who needed alcohol to have fun, especially not with each other. You two could let loose and dance sober as hell, though that’s not to say you never got drunk together and danced the entire night.
You passed it back to her, doubling over in laughter as you watched her start to dougie. You had to hold scream into your hand as she kept moving, popping and locking her joints along to the music.
“They are rather interesting,” the most beautifully deep, charming voice came from way too close for comfort.
The two of you froze, looking around the gardens with wide eyes.
“Yes, I am rather inclined to agree,” a voice somehow deeper, and just as smooth spoke next.
Your hands found each other, wondering who had caught you. You two were being pretty careless thinking you were in the clear because it was getting dark and everyone was inside. Whoever caught you could easily ask where your dances had come from, then what would you say?
All thought was lost when the two most handsome men you’d ever seen stepped into the dim lighting surrounding the archway.
The taller one was clad in a royal blue tunic, the silver stitching intricate across the fabric. It was tucked into perfectly tailored trousers, his leather boots looked luxurious and finely crafted. His blond hair was styled neatly, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at the two of you.
The other man, not that much shorter than his companion had such a distinct nose you couldn’t help but find your mouth watering at. His clothing was just as fine, his tunic in a forest green color. His tired eyes watched you both, a piece of his brown hair falling across his forehead along with a stoic expression on his face.
You kept blinking, hoping they would both just disappear as your best friend's grip on your hand tightened.
“I’m sorry, we were lost,” you blurted, your bestie slamming her hand against her face to hide her cringe.
“They even speak differently,” the brown haired one noted, tilting his head slightly as he studied you more.
“Speaking about someone when they’re right in front of you is rude,” you quipped back, narrowing your eyes at him.
The blond one laughed, as the brown haired one furrowed his brow, “She is not wrong, Hiromi.”
“Thank you,” you said smugly, turning your chin up just a little as you continued glaring at the brown haired one. Hiromi, the blond one had said.
“I suppose I cannot argue,” he rubbed his jaw, his hand drifting back to his neck.
“Though you want to, I am sure,” the blond one laughed lightly, slightly nudging Hiromi.
“I might wish to redeem myself,” Hiromi rubbed his neck, offering you a placating smile.
“Keep wishing,” you crossed your arms, watching as his eyes widened slightly.
“Maybe we should be nicer, they look like they’re important,” your best friend whispered near your ear, nudging your arm.
“Whispering is considered rather rude here,” the brown haired one eyed you both, earning another glare from you.
“Don’t start,” you pointed at him, earning a shocked look as he gazed at his friend.
“Perhaps assuming I was the crass one was a bit ahead of ourselves, Kento,” Hiromi commented, still looking at his friend.
“Do not start an argument before we figure out who these delightful women are,” Kento, the blond one, responded as he offered you and your bestie a dazzling smile.
“Why should we tell you anything?” Your best friend stepped forward, narrowing her eyes at Kento.
“For starters, you two are wearing palace uniforms, so I can assume you work here,” Kento continued like your bestie hadn’t spoken, earning himself a glare from you both. He smiled, “Would you please indulge us with your names?”
“Why? So you can fire us?” You asked, warily watching both of them.
“I only wish to call you by your name,” Kento answered, his gentle tone and amused smile disarming you by the second.
“What about you?” You looked at Hiromi.
“The same, darling,” he offered you a wolfish smile.
“Work on your flirting,” you rolled your eyes, earning a chuckle from Kento.
“You wound me, beautiful,” Hiromi was still smiling at you, the amusement clear on his face.
“If it keeps you from calling me those ridiculous petnames, fine,” you offered your name to them, both of them nodding before looking at your bestie.
“Fine,” she huffed before offering hers, eyeing the two men.
“I think I have become rather partial to the ‘petnames’ as you called it, darling,” Hiromi winked at you, earning another eyeroll.
“What would you call it?” You asked, raising a brow.
“Endearments,” he answered immediately.
“You don’t even know me,” you waved him off, ignoring the warming in your cheeks.
“I would like to,” he shrugged, offering you a small smile.
“Can I ask the two of you where you are from?” Kento asked, looking between you both.
“You can, doesn’t mean you’ll get an answer,” your bestie shrugged as you nodded along with her words.
“It is not from here, perhaps not even this time,” Hiromi commented, this time Kento nodded along to his words.
“We should ask Sorcerer Gojo, he is sure to know something,” Kento continued nodding, as he voiced his thoughts.
“There’s a wizard here?” You held up a hand, looking at them both for some confirmation.
“Sorcerer, but yes,” Hiromi addressed you quickly before turning back to Kento. “I agree he should have some answers for us.”
“What if I want answers too?” You stepped closer to them, noticing how put together they truly were. And handsome, you thought.
“You mean to tell me you have no idea what is happening, darling?” Hiromi raised a brow at you, his head tilting ever so slightly as he studied your face.
“Yeah, exactly that,” you mimicked his movement, studying his face now that you were closer. You could see the bump in the bridge of his nose, along with the firelight reflecting in his chocolate brown eyes.
“Can you take us to him?” Your best friend stepped up beside you, looking towards Kento. “Please?”
“I would have, even if you had not said please,” Kento answered her, an intrigued look in his eyes as he watched your friend smile at you. “Would you please tell us everything you know before then?”
“Can we do that inside?” She looked back at him.
“Of course, please walk with us,” Kento gestured to the path behind them.
The two of you stepped between them, linking arms as your friend stood beside Kento, and you beside Hiromi.
The walk back to the palace was quiet, no one uttering another word even as your curiosity was burning inside of you. Even a small fire of hope was lit in your chest at the possibility of going home.
When you began approaching the palace, you noticed guards who were not stationed by the entrance earlier moving to open the doors before you reached them.
As you stepped inside there was a flurry of movement, Mrs. Sato red in the face as she took in the sight of you and your best friend with the two men.
“Your Majesty,” her eyes looked as if they would pop out of her head before she bowed deeply.
You and your best friend stopped immediately, looking at both men with eyes just as wide as Mrs. Sato. Your mouth slightly parted as you locked eyes with Hiromi, the Duke, who was even more handsome in brighter lighting.
“You did not ask,” he shrugged before leaning closer to you, whispering in your ear, “you look entirely beautiful when you are surprised.”
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Sato bowed towards Hiromi before addressing the King, “King Nanami, please allow me to escort them to their room.”
“That will not be necessary Mrs. Sato, I thank you for the offer though,” King Nanami smiled at her, her face turning impossibly red. “If you would not mind, could you have two adjacent rooms prepared for our new guests?”
Mrs. Sato looked between you and your best friend, a look of utter surprise still on her face as she quickly nodded, “We will see it done, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sato, please send for the ladies when it is finished,” King Nanami extended his hand towards your best friend, her own reaching out to his tentatively.
“Duke Higuruma, beautiful,” your hand was swept up into a warm, calloused one, a quick kiss placed to the back of it before your arm was wound around Duke Higuruma’s.
The two men led you down the familiar hallways towards the library, once again letting silence descended as you processed this turn of events. A King and a Duke. The King allowing you both to stay as guests. A way home.
By the time you were sitting in the plush arm chair near one of the fires in the library, your mind was still spinning.
“I apologize for withholding our titles from you both, it seemed necessary given the,” King Nanami trailed off as he searched for a word.
“Hostility?” Duke Higuruma offered, his eyes on you as they gleamed with amusement.
You scoffed, “Have you ever been slapped?”
“I have not, but I do see myself enjoying it, if a certain beautiful woman were to do it,” he sat in the chair opposite you, resting his ankle on his knee as he propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his chin on his fist.
“You’re shameless,” you rolled your eyes.
“I believe the word you’re looking for is open minded,” he smiled at your glare before looking at the King, who was currently sitting himself beside the Duke.
Your best friend took the chair next to you, her eyes going anywhere, but the handsome King sitting right in front of her.
“Tell me about the wizard,” you prompted, looking at both men.
“Domineering,” Higuruma smirked at you, earning another glare.
“He is said to dabble in things that are not of this world,” Nanami offered, clasping his hands in his lap as he looked at you both. “I assume he will be a great help in this situation. Despite your lack of information it is quite obvious to us both that you are not of this world, so to speak.”
“We’re not,” your best friend murmured.
“Ready to share the nitty gritty?” Higuruma raised a brow as he looked over at her.
“Hush,” you held a hand up in Higuruma’s direction, looking over at the king as you spoke, “All we know is we shook hands with a dodgy man in an alley, went to bed that night, and woke up here this morning.”
“Dodgy?” Nanami wondered aloud.
“It means questionable,” you supplied before quickly turning to Higuruma, “do not ask why we did that.”
He merely held his hands up in mock innocence, “I would not dream of such, darling.”
“What time are you from?” Nanami asked.
“Our modern day would be in the 2000 years,” earning a wide eyed glance from both men as she gave the exact year that you left your world.
“What?” You looked at both men, watching as they shared a silent conversation between themselves.
“I apologize, but we have not passed the threshold of one thousand years, though I do believe we count time differently,” Nanami answered, rubbing his jaw as his brow furrowed in thought.
“The fine details don’t really matter, we’re going back anyway,” you answered with a shrug.
“Yes, well, the Sorcerer will begin his journey here tomorrow, it will take about four days or so by horse. Until then you both are more than welcome to stay as guests,” Nanami smiled softly at you both, “I do hope you will allow us both in your presence in the meantime.”
“Maybe just you,” you answered with your own smile, looking over to see your bestie hardly meeting his eye as she smiled.
“I suppose I have at least four days to change your mind, darling,” Higuruma noted, sitting up in his chair as he smiled at you.
“Good luck,” you gave him a cheeky look.
“What you do not know is that I do love a challenge,” he winked at you.
“I will have clothing other than your current attire, in your bedrooms by tomorrow afternoon,” Nanami answered, ignoring whatever was going on between you and Higuruma.
“Thank you, Your,” your friend took a breath, “Majesty?”
He laughed, the sound so rich and beautiful, you found yourself smiling, “You do not have to use formalities, I have gathered it is not the custom in your world, you may call me Kento.”
“How forward of you,” Higuruma noted quietly before he looked at you both, “Please, call me Hiromi, I could use more normalcy in this lifetime.”
Mrs. Sato rushed into the library, a smile on her face as she looked at the four of you and bowed, “The rooms are ready, Your Majesty.”
You all stood, each man taking a step towards you both.
“Enjoy your evening,” Kento murmured, taking your best friend's hand and placing a soft kiss on it. The two of them sharing a loaded look.
You were unaware of this as Hiromi stepped towards you, brushing a piece of your hair aside as he leaned close to your ear, “Goodnight, beautiful.”
Your eyes were wide as he took your hand, raising it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to it as he held your gaze.
“Goodnight, Hiromi,” your voice was breathless, earning a dazzling smile from the man.
The walk back to your rooms was quiet, you and your bestie following close behind Mrs. Sato.
When she showed you both rooms, you thanked her, before turning and rushing into one of them.
All hell broke loose the moment the door shut behind you both.
hey! idk if you take requests. if not, ignore it, sorry!
i love ur writing and was thinking if you could do some tired laywer hiromi x tired highchool teacher reader
Hiii oh my gosh first ask I’m gonna frame this!!! Thank you so much this is such a good request I’d loveee to write this!!
This is also inspiring me to finally make a rules post because I’m open to requests and will write them as long as they inspire me. So feel free to send away! Thank you nonnie <3333
a/n: saw a tiktok and was inspired, hope you guys enjoy this mini series <3 also somebody pry my drafts from my fucking hands they always end up as series
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
In sickness and in health, Geto Suguru has promised, while tying your lives together. And thus, when death looms over his dearest wife, he's ready to trick it.
˖᯽ ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Geto Suguru x Reader ꒱
˖᯽ ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ Inspired by the "Hamnet" movie and this one fuckass scene :: set in 17th century :: marriage :: fluff : HEAVY angst :: devotion :: sacrifice :: character's death :: family :: domestic life ꒱
˖᯽ ݁˖ words: 3k
˖᯽ ݁˖ notes: I do recommend reading it while listening to this song.
Suguru Geto has long forgotten the times when he didn't love you.
As he loved you always.
In the morning and afternoon. Springs, summers, and autumns, when the leaves turned yellow and clung to the cold windows of your cottage.
In the restless winter night, with your body close nuzzled into his, the biting wind seeping through the loose window shells.
He has loved you ever since you poured cold water on his yearning face one summer morning while he waited beneath your cottage. Dressed in his best creamy shirt, holding a bouquet of wildflowers tightly in his hand, with long hair flowing down his straight back.
A poet from a nearby village, seeing you every single day.
Seeing, as if solely from afar, inaccessible, rather wickedly beseeching, as he couldn't even truly touch you. Or talk to you, cherish the flowery scent carried on your skin.
He was neither rich nor poor, yet his heart was swollen with wickedness, cherishing a tenderness that seeped through his marrow. A feeling of the most cursed towards the only woman who hated him dearly.
A teacher, a witch, who'd rather spend her days schooling young birdies in magic and the tricks of nature than seek a husband!
A disgrace, truly, yet what could her poor folks do, since she didn't wish to marry any handsome gentleman from their village? How could they force their dearest daughter to marry any commoner, when none of them was worthy of her beauty?
And yet, Suguru Geto offered himself.
But for a reason that truly baffled everyone, you seemed to detest him. Cursing and turning your back on his kind of flirt whenever he tried to talk to you. Again and again, every single day, only to be met with a bucket of cold water you poured on him from your window or a dirty sponge you shot at him through the door of your classroom.
The kids giggled, seeing their beautiful teacher utterly furious at the handsome poet, who seemed bewitched by the gentle wrinkle that bent her forehead. But the way her eyes rolled and shot daggers as he waited and waited under her classroom, trying to take a single glance at the softness that bent her lips.
"He's just a silly poet. How could I ever take him seriously?" you muttered once during a conversation with your mother.
She glanced out the window of your cottage, seeing his dark locks glisten beneath the sizzling burns of the afternoon sun.
"But his heart seems kind." Her eyes turned back to look at your sweet yet tired face. "You deserve kindness."
"Kindness won't feed us," you muttered quietly, as you raised your gaze for a second.
Only to steal a glimpse of a man who didn't wish to leave you alone. Of his lavender eyes staring somewhere above the rolling hills of your village, fingers idling with a tall glass, bowing beneath the gentle, warm wind. His long hair, tied in a small bun at the top, shining like silk, as if threaded from the richest fabrics you've only read of in tales.
He's been haunting you for weeks now.
From the moment your paths crossed in the village next door, where you walked through the stalls and he sat leisurely in the local tavern, with papers and inks filling his bag. With lavender eyes that somehow caught your gaze, soft, with laughter from the past still twinkling behind your irises, before you quickly turned away.
He'd never packed up quicker, stuffing his bag without a care for his rather expensive things, before leaving the tavern in a hurry. To catch the last glimpse of an angel whose eyes had kissed his cheeks, before she would disappear forever.
He followed you all the way back to your village, eyeing the little footprints your feet left on the sand, the flowery scent clinging to your body and swirling in the air. As if showing him the way to the woman who seemed to bewitch his mind, body and soul with nothing but a single look into the poet's eyes.
And as he arrived beneath your cottage, a muffled, rather angry scoff escaped your lips. Seeing a strange man who seemed to walk behind you, in silence and holding his breath, all this time.
"What are you doing here?" Your brows furrowed, wild hair sticking softly to the warm cheeks. "How dare you follow me like a madman?"
But Suguru… Suguru couldn't even catch his breath.
Oh, how damned he already was, upon sensing his heart fall into the agonising clutches of a feeling so wicked!
"I–" The words could barely slip past his tightened throat. Almond-shaped eyes, oogling your face, twisted in wrath yet still looking utterly lovely. "I just thought you were beautiful."
You scoffed again, forcing another squeeze of his heart. "Leave. We're done here."
His fists clenched as he saw your body already turning towards the cottage. "Wait! Can you… do you wish to go out with me?"
Looking over your shoulder, you eyed his figure. Fingers painted black, a white shirt clinging neatly to his well-built back. Black trousers, rather simple, threaded here and there as if he had seen thread and needle too many times.
A poet.
A man of heavy words yet light pouch.
Someone you shouldn't even look at, even if you were an outcast yourself.
A witch, a weird lady who spent too much time in the woods, talking to trees, grasses, and animals, while teaching apothecary to local children.
Someone whom normal men avoided crossing paths with, as if in fear of even associating with a woman of your sort.
Utterly beautiful, yet of a wicked cheek.
"No," wasn't enough to force him away.
As it seemed, Suguru Geto was foolish enough to even beg and wait for a single glimpse of the softness that beamed from your eyes in the early mornings, just before your gaze caught his figure lingering beneath your windows.
He visited you every day, following you from sunrise until moonlight spilt its kisses on your lovely face. He sat beneath the window of your little classroom, a small house built on a hill, and scribbled his own poems. With a little ink he had brought from home, his forehead beading with sweat as he listened to your classes.
To the lovely voice that carried through the lush plains of the rolling hills, seeping into the creeks that ran past the scattered huts. The peaceful, almost idyllic view stretched before his eyes each day, yet he still seemed utterly lost in the softness of your hands on his skin.
After long weeks of tiresome begging, you've finally agreed.
Catching him once again asleep in the tall grasses by your classroom, a golden spill of sunshine casting a peaceful look on his handsome face.
And so, carried by an unknown, wicked feeling, you squatted next to him, with the edges of your dress brushing his body and your fingers reaching to push away a single raven lock stuck to his forehead.
Lavender eyes slowly opened, as if doubting whether the petal touch was real or just a projection of his lovestruck mind.
"I agree," you said, a soft sigh pushed past your lips. "One meeting."
He nodded, quickly, eagerly, already rising to his feet. "Just one."
"And if I still dislike you, that shall be it."
He didn't nod this time, and so you pinched his cheek gently. "Say it."
He chuckled, nuzzling into your softness. "And if you do not like me, I shall leave you alone."
Yet, as it soon would turn out – hating him was rather impossible.
After a year, you already gave birth to your first child.
Oh well, a woman in love can be quite wicked, but a man? Dear heavens. As soon as you agreed to his pleading to become his wife, Suguru Geto didn't hesitate to ensnare you with his deceitful feelings.
And you, utterly captivated by a foolish poet who sang of his beloved's sweetest smiles, couldn't deny the burning fire deep within you. The sensation of his skin against yours in the most intimate manner stirred your desire. To cherish him and be cherished in whispers, touches, and moans that escaped your lips as you hid atop your cottage roof while your parents were absent.
When he promised you forever, during the wedding vows, you knew he meant it.
Suguru Geto's life began only after meeting you. Everything that happened during the past twenty-five years of his life seemed to be nothing but a bleak, barren nothingness that filled his wretched soul.
Soon after the wedding, you moved to another cottage. Small and lovely, where your first child was born. A girl with the sweetest cheeks and rich, lavender eyes that mirrored the kindness your husband had shown.
His precious little daughter.
"And my precious, beautiful wife," he always added, while kissing both of your foreheads. "The lights of my life."
You would giggle before wrapping your arms around his back and drawing him into a longer kiss. You stood in the middle of your little, simple cottage, with candles scattered across the shelves and his ink-stained fingers smudged on your cheeks.
"Aren't you a flirt?" A sweet laugh spilt from his throat as he stole another kiss.
And another, another, another, which forced you to tumble onto the soft bed. The fog clung to the windows; the candles' warmth cast shadows over his handsome cheeks, hair spilling over his shoulders.
Your breath hitched as his lips wrapped around the sensitive point beneath your neck.
"You play a dangerous game," fell quietly, and he chuckled.
"And why is that, my dearest wife?"
His lavender eyes met yours. Love and fondness merged as he brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen over your forehead.
"Because I may ask you for another baby."
He raised his eyebrows before curving them into a soft scowl. "You don't have to ask me twice for anything, my love. And especially for this particular thing."
And so, oh well.
Another year had passed, and you gave birth once again.
This time, to the sweetest boy, with the cheekiness of yours bubbling in his eyes and a big heart always yearning for his mother.
The life you had was almost idyllic, as if brought straight from one of the tales you always read to your kids. A life of profound serenity, filled with overwhelming love that spilt past your husband's fingers.
He seemed to carry your whole family, and even though he soon started travelling a lot – for he wished to chase his playwright dreams – there was never a time when you felt anything but taken care of.
Suguru wished it stayed that way.
A picture of you, humming the loveliest melody to your two children, strolling through the long plains of wildflowers as the sun kissed your cheeks. The picture that seemed to be stuck in his mind, the one he repeated over and over again as he went off to the big cities to earn a few more pennies.
Whenever the horse took longer than it should, or the carriage rolled over the bumps and mounds, he thought of you. Of the view that would welcome him home.
Of his children growing up healthy and his wife staying the wicked witch she always had been. Filling their kitchen with herbs of sorts unknown to him, yet carrying a special healing might. He would think of the lavender fragrance filling the kitchen and the mint bubbling on the stove. Of the cinnamon, ginger and cloves that, during the winter, carried all four of you through the freezing bites.
Your hands had healing power, your mind stayed sharp and kind, always aware of what to do in case of a sudden crisis, be it your daughter's sudden cold or your son's scratched knee.
Sometimes it was Suguru himself, lying beneath the heavy pillows and blankets, as if already half on the other side. At times like this, he would, in a rather melodramatic way, recite poems about the approaching end and stretch his hand towards you, as if mimicking death.
The children would always laugh sweetly, seeing their father utterly lost in his need to catch a glimpse of their mother's attention. Because they knew, oh, of course they knew, that love was hidden in their mother's purest smile and in the way their father seemed to live solely to hear her sweet laughter.
They saw the way their father looked into their mother's kind eyes. With affection difficult to describe, they only began to understand its true heaviness after they reached the age of six.
They knew that no one loved their mother as much as he did. No matter how often Suguru kissed their plump cheeks, it was with only half the devotion he showed their mother. He loved them, of course he did! For it was simply impossible for any other child to be loved by their father as much as Suguru loved his.
And yet, both of them knew that whatever it was between their parents felt most sacred.
Thus, when their mother fell heavily sick, it seeped through every soul living beneath their warm roof.
It happened one day, as you collapsed in the garden. Suddenly, falling straight into your slowly growing herbs, before the panicked children called for their father with tears swirling in their eyes.
He brought you back home with trembling hands, quickly lying you down on your bed by the fireplace. To let the flame give a bit of warmth to your cheeks, as he saw the life slowly slipping away, with sweat beading on your forehead.
The doctors said it's a simple cold. Nothing serious.
But the days were passing, and it seemed you were getting worse. Barely able to eat even the lightest food, turning from side to side beneath the heavy covers.
The fever clung to your forehead no matter how many times Suguru tried to fight it. He placed cold compresses on your forehead and kissed your temple. As if it could heal whatever sickness was plaguing your poor body.
He saw you grow weaker day by day. Sometimes, the strength would return to your body, only to leave it completely before you could walk to the front door.
Sometimes you laughed with your children, only to start coughing blood a minute later.
Suguru was slowly losing his mind, spiralling into madness, as he called for every doctor available in the village. Yet no one knew what sickness was holding onto his wife's dearest life.
He would lie by your side every single night, just to listen to your whistling breath. Watch the way your lips fell open and your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He would stay all night, just to make sure it wouldn't be the last.
Hand plastered to your cheek, though you could barely register his touch. His voice, soft, almost teary, sounded muffled within your sickness-spiked mind.
He prayed. Long and as never before, clinging to your body, just to feel the warmth of your breath on your skin.
He prayed for death to take him instead, to leave his dearest wife alone, as he was ready to bear all the pain she needed to endure.
He prayed in a pitiful voice that sliced his children's hearts as they saw their father in such a wretched state. And so they gave him time to grieve, alone, watching their mother's soul slowly wither away.
But then… then another night came.
Much worse than any other. As Suguru could barely feel your puffs on his fingers. A shallow, almost invisible breath slipped past your lips, and the smell of death swirled in the room. Fogging the windows, seeping with sickness and stealth, as Suguru felt the grim reaper's clutches slowly wrap around your body.
He could see it in the dim corner of the bedroom, staring at your sweat-beaded forehead.
"No," he mumbled, covering you both with a heavy blanket. "I won't let it take you away."
And so he did something foolish.
Beneath the veil of darkness, with material tightly covering your bodies, he changed your positions. Slowly, so death could not notice your body moving to the other side.
A soft cough escaped your throat, and your eyes opened for a moment, seeing your husband's gentle smile.
"Suguru," you muttered. "I–"
"Shh," he whispered, brushing your cheek. "It's okay, darling. It won't hurt any more. It's okay."
And because your husband he was – you believed him. Falling back into the light dream, where the world spun around nothing but the gentle, caring voice of your dearest one.
"I give you my life," Suguru whispered, yet it seemed you were long gone. "I give you my life, darling. For I cannot live in a world without your warmth." His thumb brushed the softness of your skin. "For I love our children so much, and yet my wretched heart forbids me to live without you by my side. You are much kinder than I am, darling, and shall take care of them for both of us."
As if losing you would damn him and nothing but the embrace of death itself would ever heal his woeful soul.
It was too dark to see anything, yet beneath the heavy blanket, Suguru could feel a slight warmth returning to your fallen lips. He smiled, sensing a fogginess creeping into his mind. The clutches cold and dreary, seeping through the marrow.
"I give you my life," he repeated, the heaviness pressing on his eyelids. "Be brave. Be kind. And please, don't ever stop laughing. For I'll be watching over you all and make sure none of you joins my side any time soon. I will love you, always, and I shall exist only in a world with two of us."
"For we are of one soul and one heart, thus no hills nor seas and mountains shall ever keep us apart."
And his children, listening to their father's crying whispers, knew that a man in love is truly of a wicked kind.
He was the one who deceived death to grant you a new life.
♡ summary: after two terrible days, all you want is to use your boyfriend as a mattress. unfortunately for you, gojo satoru is very easily distracted.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • fluff
♡ author’s note: this was inspired by a post from @silentlunarkiss based on this fanart 😭 i screenshotted it immediately because i knew i wanted to write it, then somehow lost the original post before i could tag them. finally found them again!! ♡
banner by @pixopix
The apartment is quiet when you finally drag yourself through the door, your work bag feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Your feet are killing you, your brain is fried, and all you want is to collapse into bed and not move for approximately twelve hours.
You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.
Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.
He looks as exhausted as you feel.
"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.
"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."
Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."
"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"
"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."
"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."
"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."
"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.
"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."
"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.
"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."
"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."
"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.
"Our death," he agrees solemnly.
For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.
His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.
"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.
"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.
"I'd just block her."
"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."
"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"
"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."
"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"
"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.
His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.
But then his hands start to wander.
It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—
He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.
"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."
"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"
"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"
"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."
"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"
"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."
"That's not science, you idiot."
"It's my science."
You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.
"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.
"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.
You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.
"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.
"Hmm?"
"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"
There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."
You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.
"We were having a nice moment."
"We still are."
"You've got a boner."
"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."
You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"
"You are absolutely the problem."
"I literally haven't done anything."
"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."
"I hummed?"
"You hummed."
"I don't hum."
"You do when you're really comfortable."
You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."
"I have."
You glare at him.
"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."
You snort. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm trying to be respectful."
"Are you?"
Silence.
"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."
Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.
"You're ridiculous."
"I know."
His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."
His voice is quieter now. "So happy."
You burrow your face further into his shoulder.
"…I like when you're like this."
You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."
"Only for you."
There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.
"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."
"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."
Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.
When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."
"Up where—"
But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."
"Satoru—"
"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."
How are you supposed to say no to that?
"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.
"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."
"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—
"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.
He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."
But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.
"Satoru—"
"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.
It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.
"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."
"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.
"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.
Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.
"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."
His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.
"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"
"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”
His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.
"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."
"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.
But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.
"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"
"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."
He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.
"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"
"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster.
Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.
When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.
"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."
"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.
"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."
"Oh really?"
"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.
"Oh, baby."
He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.
"Fuck, baby—"
"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.
"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."
"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.
"Yeah." His voice is strained.
He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.
"Satoru—"
"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”
His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.
"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."
"Satoru, please—"
"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."
"You know what I want."
"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."
"You're killing me—"
"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."
His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.
"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."
"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.
"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."
"Satoru—"
"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."
Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.
"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.
"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”
"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."
"Satoru—"
"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"
"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"
"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."
His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.
"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"
"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.
"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."
"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.
"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."
The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."
"Don't stop—"
"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.
"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."
When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.
"Satoru—"
"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.
Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.
"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.
"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"
"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"
"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."
"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.
"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."
His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.
"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."
You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.
He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"
You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"
He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."
He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.
"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."
"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”
The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”
His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him.
"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”
His composure finally snaps.
"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."
He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.
"Not until you."
His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"
Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.
"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"
The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.
"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.
He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.
"Holy shit," you mumble.
"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."
"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.
"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."
"I love you too, you needy disaster."
"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."
"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.
He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.
"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.
"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."
"Clingy."
"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."
"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.
And as you drift off in his arms, you think that yeah… you can definitely manage. This ridiculous, needy, perfect man is yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
content: more work stuff, meeting new coworkers, setting the stage for the next part
a/n: the timeline for this fic came pouring out of me... now to face the task of writing everything...
You were sitting at your desk, working on your idea to improve employee retention when you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Yuki, eyeing the document you had open on your desktop, a look of interest on her beautiful face.
“That’s something we’ve never considered,” she noted, leaning on her hand as she pointed to one idea in particular. “I think you should draft up a proposal before the next quarterly meeting, this is a much better idea than the idiotic pizza parties we keep having.”
“I think so too, it’s just the logistics of it all that I find myself stuck,” you looked up at her, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she tilted her head in thought.
“I’ll introduce you to Utahime in human resources, she’ll be able to help you fully fledge this idea,” she stood to her towering height before sitting herself on the edge of your desk. “The next meeting isn’t until May so you have plenty of time before you have to present anything.”
“Thank you, Yuki, you’ve been such an amazing boss,” you smiled up at her, leaning back in your chair as you mentally noted another person to ask your father about.
“I would be more amazing if I had asked you for your meeting notes sooner, let me see what else you wrote down last week,” she held her hand out as you dug through your desk and pulled out your journal.
Her eyes scanned over your first page of notes, a small furrow forming between her brows the more she read. You could feel your body temperature rising as you wondered what mistake you made, the thought of making a mistake and it getting back to your father was worrisome.
“I’m going to set up a few meetings for you. I think you would benefit from meeting with our Marketing Director Takuma Ino or Sales Director Jin Itadori, you seem to have a basic grasp of acquisitions, but I think you’d benefit from expanding your knowledge,” her eyes continued working down the pages as you sat quietly, waiting for her next comment.
“You’re meeting with Mr. Kong too, your expansion ideas need work, he can help you understand that side of the business better than I can,” she noted quietly.
A passing thought for her that scrambled your brain and made your hands sweat in your lap.
Meeting with Shiu? One on one meetings with Shiu? How you planned to survive those, you weren’t entirely sure.
“I really think you have a great grasp of everything, meeting with everyone will only strengthen your knowledge,” she handed your journal back to you. “Let’s go see Utahime now, I’m tired of being in this room.”
She stood, waiting as you put your things away and grabbed your laptop before walking beside her. She quickly tapped away at her phone, her long legs carrying her to the elevator on autopilot. She absentmindedly clicked the next floor up, fingers still flying over her keyboard.
By the time you two exited the elevator she looked at you with a big smile, “Takuma and Jin will meet with you next week, I’ll add it to your calendar.”
“Thank you,” you smiled back at her, following slightly behind her as she walked into the HR department.
She waved a few people, said a few hellos as you both made your way to the large office on the back wall.
Yuki gave a few raps to the glass door before opening it, “Utahime, I brought you a new friend!”
“Yuki, as much as I love making friends, I’m working,” the woman behind the desk didn’t spare either of you a glance as her eyes continued scanning whatever was on her desktop.
“Well, what if I said I also brought you more work?” Yuki plopped down in one of the chairs directly in front of Utahime’s desk.
Utahime finally glanced up, her eyes half hooded in feigned annoyance as she made eye contact with Yuki, “Am I supposed to jump for joy?
Yuki waved you closer, offering your name to Utahime, “This is my new employee, who had a very impressive idea to improve employee retention.”
You offered your hand, smiling at Utahime, “Yuki flatters me, but I did have an idea I’d like to discuss if you have the time.”
Utahime looked at you, and you took note of her beautiful face, her soft features that were made softer by the scar she had running across the right side of her face.
She shook your hand, offering a smile “Please excuse my attitude, there are few I act like this with and Yuki is one of them.”
“Don’t be mean Hime, or I’ll tell Shoko,” Yuki pouted.
“Leave my girlfriend out of this, thanks,” Utahime glared at Yuki before looking back at you. “I would love to hear more about your idea, we’ve been absolutely failing on employee retention efforts.”
You sat in the chair next to Yuki, opening up your laptop to email Utahime a PDF version of your document, “I emailed you what ideas I have, one of them in the works of being fleshed out. I’m stuck on the logistics and financial aspect of it, though.”
A few clicks and she had it pulled up on her own computer, turning the screen so it would be seen by you both, “This is great, actually. I see where you’re stuck, but it isn’t something that can’t be worked out.”
“Yes, I wondered how we’d transport everyone, if we’d do separate days, and how to get the approval for spending,” you noted.
“Ijichi, the Finance Director would be more than happy to help you with budgeting and drafting the funding proposal,” Utahime noted, jotting a few things down on a sticky note. “I really think multiple days would be best, though.”
“I thought so too, but how do we decide how to split everyone up?” You wondered, holding your finger to your lips in thought.
“We could do it by department,” Yuki threw out.
“Most people have friends in every department,” Utahime thought aloud.
“I don’t think we should do it by hierarchy, having all the C-Suites together would defeat the purpose,” you added.
“Letting people choose their groups also defeats the purpose,” Utahime sat back in her chair, her fingers drumming on her desk.
“We could pick one person from each department, and scramble the hierarchy,” your mind started rolling with the thought. “Since there’s more lower tier employees, we’ll just have to figure out a ratio and go from there.”
“Perfect, that’s actually perfect,” Utahime smiled. “We’ll get the mix of departments along with the hierarchical mix to help foster relationships across the board.”
“I told you she had an impressive idea,” Yuki leaned back, crossing one of her legs over the other. “I also think she’ll have Takuma and Ijichi wrapped around her finger by the end of their meetings.”
“Yuki, I’m the HR director, have more tact before I have to report you to myself,” Utahime huffed, her lips twitching at the corners as she shared a knowing smile with Yuki.
“Whatever, at least you two can be friends now,” Yuki gestured between you both. “I know we’re older than you, but we still know how to have fun.”
“I’m sure you do,” you laughed lightly. “I would love to be friends, but don’t we have a policy against that?”
“Nope,” Utahime popped the p. “We got rid of the anti-fraternization policy about five years ago. People wanted to be friends, and date, so it seemed like the right decision. We actually saw a boost in retention rates around-”
“Hime, you’re spewing HR facts,” Yuki noted, an endearing smile on her face.
“Right, well, we could all be friends and no one would bat an eye. Really the only stipulation is if you’re dating someone, you have to disclose it to me,” Utahime concluded.
You could be friends with anyone, date anyone you wanted. And no one would bat an eye. You weren’t sure why you were so focused on that small piece of information, so you brushed it aside.
“Then let’s be friends,” you smiled.
“We usually go for drinks Friday after work, I’ll let you know when and where if you ever want to go,” Utahime smiled back at you.
“You can meet my boyfriend and Hime’s girlfriend if you go,” Yuki added in an enticing manner, as if you hadn’t already agreed to being friends.
“I really look forward to it then,” you looked over at her, feeling a wave of warmth surge through you. She really was a great person, having her as your first boss was something you swore not to take for granted.
Her phone pinged in her lap, she quickly glanced down to read the notification, “Mr. Kong can meet with you Thursday!”
The blood rushing in your ears was entirely too overwhelming as you forced your face to remain still, “That’s great.”
“He told me to send you his number, the two of you can coordinate your meetings from now on,” her fingers worked quickly, your own phone buzzing in your lap shortly after.
“Thank you, Yuki,” you answered, looking down at the phone number that was glaring up at you.
“Of course! Anything to help you grow,” she rested her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.
“I’ll set up an appointment with Ijichi, if you get my number from Yuki, I’ll text you the details,” Utahime nodded at you, before turning back to her computer. As she straightened her monitor she said as seriously as she could manage, “Now get out and go back to work.”
“Bye Hime!” Yuki stood quickly, waving at her over her shoulder.
“It was nice to meet you,” you smiled before turning and following behind Yuki.
“Make sure you text Mr. Kong so he has your number,” Yuki commented as the two of you headed back towards the elevator.
“I’ll do that now,” you answered, keeping your voice calm and level as you stared down at the blank message.
Your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to send him.
Looking forward to Thursday? Too enthusiastic, and way too much of a lie.
Hi Shiu- absolutely not, you stopped that thought before it developed further.
A small introduction paired with Yuki gave me your number? Too many words.
You settled on something simple.
YOU (10:27AM): this is [name], what time are we meeting Thursday?
You slipped your phone back into your pocket, exhaling a breath as you stepped on to the elevator. Yuki was back on her phone, her fingers flying over the screen again as you descended.
By the time you stepped out your phone buzzed.
MR. KONG (10:29AM): 10AM, doll.
The nickname had your heart beating in your throat, as your breath stuttered. You quickly tucked your phone closer to your chest as you worried that Yuki could easily peak over and see what he said.
You sat at your desk, your phone resting against your fingers as you thought out what to respond.
YOU (10:32AM): I believe we should address each other in a more formal manner, Mr. Kong.
MR. KONG (10:32AM): That’s what you believe, but is that what you want?
YOU (10:34AM): I’m not answering that.
MR. KONG (10:34AM): That’s what I thought, doll. See you Thursday.
You set your phone face down on your desk, letting out a long breath through your nose as you wondered how you were going to survive these meetings with him.
His number alone was taunting you, the thought of having another form of connection with him unable to leave your mind as the days passed by. Despite wanting Thursday to be further away, it came sooner than you expected.
prev. part | masterlist
a/n: shiu kong the trifling yet so very hot man that you are...
content: reader has a roster, toxicity, alcohol, partying, mentions of smut, petty arguments, childish tit for tat relationship w fratjo, fratjo and fratji mention *bites knuckle*
a/n: first time posting gojo...
art by @/kasswio on x - divider by @/pixopix
Satoru Gojo wasn’t much to you, but he was a mistake that you made more often than you cared to admit. You tried to justify it by saying that as long as he kept his mouth shut, and the dick was good that was all that mattered.
The unfortunate thing was that he was not very good at keeping his mouth shut.
As president of the largest, most infamous fraternity on campus he certainly had a knack for drawing attention. In fact, you would argue that he shone the brightest in the spotlight.
How else would he uphold his position and make his fraternity revered?
Of course, you were only a little better than him. You certainly had a decent sized lineup if you wanted to fuck, and you certainly fucked guys that hated each other, knowing that they hated each other.
Really the only thing that made you any better than him was that you were not in a sorority, not involved in greek life other than getting dicked down by a couple of the presidents every once in a while.
Nobody blamed you, if anything, they were envious of you. Who wouldn’t want to fuck Toji Fushiguro or Satoru Gojo?
And every time there was drama, you feigned innocence by claiming that you were just a bystander getting dragged into a long-standing rivalry.
As long as the two of them never interacted in front of you and never tried to drag you between them, you could have your cake and eat it too.
Toji Fushiguro was much better than Gojo in regards to hardly ever opening his mouth, only ever offering you the occasional pissy comment. You two had a mutually beneficial agreement, neither of you wanting to complicate things further than falling into bed with each other.
He was the fraternity president of Satoru’s rival fraternity. Both men somehow seeming like they were born to hate each other, which was no concern to you as long as they did their jobs and gave you orgasms.
Toji was way too busy with being captain of the hockey team and president of a fraternity to ever spare you more than the designated time for sex. It was entirely too easy to call him when you needed uncomplicated sex.
Satoru on the other hand was who you called when you needed a thrill, somehow every time you saw each other it began with an argument and ended with you two having hate sex. And Satoru was very, very good at having hate sex.
He was also very good at causing situations in your life that annoyed you to no end. Unfortunately you found yourself amused enough if only for the fact that you enjoyed planning on how to get him back.
It was a delicate balance, a push and pull that was unspoken between the two of you.
Earlier this week at tailgate, you were happily shotgunning a beer with a few of your friends. Staying as far away from the greek tents as you could manage, hoping for a day of peace away from the two presidents.
Your hopes were unanswered by whatever higher being watched over you, as you watched Satoru walk over to your small group. A bottle of liquor hanging from his slim, pale fingers.
“You fucking him too?” He asked, pointing at your friend who was crushing his newly finished can.
“Fuck off Gojo,” you rolled your eyes, turning your back to him.
“Just curious,” his voice was close behind you, his free hand settling low on your hip.
You looked back at him, glaring, “As if it’s any of your business who I fuck.”
“Right, cause that includes Toji? And what, thirty other guys?” His words were slightly slurred, his head falling near your ear as his breath ghosted across your cheek.
“Like you’re any better,” you grumbled. “For as big of a slut as you are, you seem to care about one of your fuck buddies too much.”
“Careful, you know I’m into degradation,” you could hear the smile in his voice as his lips ghosted your ear.
“Get out of here, go dick measure with your best friend Toji,” you tried nudging him away, failing miserably as his arm snaked around your hips.
“You know Suguru is my best friend,” he shifted slightly, making sure you saw the dramatic pout on his lips.
You flicked him on the nose, "Get out of here before I start treating you like the dog you are.”
“Keep being mean, I’m close,” his smile was way too smug for your liking.
You scoffed, pulling your phone out to quickly dial Suguru’s number as Satoru shoved his face into you, placing kisses between your shoulder and neck.
You were thankful when Suguru said he’d be over as soon as possible, apologizing for losing sight of Satoru and letting him wander away.
“Your buddy’s on the way,” you huffed.
Satoru somehow ended up behind you during your conversation with Suguru. His head was resting limply on your shoulder, his arm still holding you close. Your friends had drifted away, giving you space as you dealt with whatever this was. It was incredibly irritating, you were here to have fun and drink with your friends before the football game. Instead you were stuck babysitting a frat president as you waited for his vice president to come retrieve him.
You couldn’t wait to get Satoru back for this.
The pieces began falling into place when Toji responded to your text for dick with a “go fuck Satoru tonight.”
You were not at all concerned about whatever had him in a pissy mood as you plotted and schemed how you’d get Satoru back at his party tonight.
As you danced and drank in the living room, the bodies of people moving around you, you spotted Satoru stumbling across the room, heading straight for you. His backwards hat was slightly skewed, a cup hanging limply from his fingers as he focused all his effort on taking steps.
Satoru was probably the biggest lightweight you’d ever met, despite his impressive height and build, so when he practically fell in your arms you laughed quietly.
“Okay there, bud?” You asked, snaking your arms under his to steady him. The distance you kept between you quickly became nonexistent as he rested his head against your shoulder, pulling you closer by your waist.
“Mmm okay now, pretty,” his words were jumbled together, hardly coherent over the loud music.
“Let’s get you upstairs,” you patted his back, trying to steady your feet as you felt more of his weight bearing down on you.
A whine of protest left him before he pulled his face back just enough to look at you, those blue eyes glowing under the LED lights, a pout taking over his lips, “Too early.”
“Who’s fault is that?” You tapped his nose, shifting yourself around to begin walking towards the staircase.
Trying to shoulder the weight of a six foot three frat man who worked out regularly was not the easiest thing in the world, you thought as you struggled to move through the crowd. How the hell you'd get him up the stairs would be its own challenge that you chose not to think about until you got there.
Satoru's head bobbed around, his long legs taking shaky steps as you continued maneuvering him throughout the bodies of people crowded around you two. A few people stopped and laughed to themselves, the sight of the frat president wasted was apparently very humorous to them. How could it not be when they weren't the ones about to struggle getting him up the stairs?
As the large marble staircase finally came into view, you said a silent prayer to whoever was watching over you to help you get this idiot up there as easily as possible.
Nobody was listening, again. Not when Satoru gripped the railing tightly, moaning incoherent words as he doubled over, vomiting all over the floor and almost dragging you into it. You dropped your arm away, letting him hold his weight against the railing as he continued heaving.
"Get it out before we get upstairs, or I swear to god, I'm letting you fall asleep in your throw-up clothes," you threatened, watching as his back heaved again.
He did look a little funny, all hunched over and succumbing to the consequences of his actions, but it wasn't enough to satisfy your need for payback. This was his own doing, you craved something of your doing.
When he finally stood up, stumbling back a step, you stepped near him again, shouldering his weight as you grumbled, "Let's go, pretty boy."
"You think I'm pretty," it wasn't a question, rather, a giddy statement as his head lolled backwards.
You took the opportunity to grab the hem of his shirt and wipe his mouth, ignoring him completely as you began to tackle the first step. You hoped someone would come by, maybe Geto would see you, or his friend Nanami, and then they could take it from here.
No such thing happened, your thighs burning and sweat dripping down your temples as you finally cleared the top of the staircase. Satoru's head was hanging forward limply as you walked him to his room, his free arm occasionally steadying him against the wall as he walked.
When you finally got to his door, you let out the longest sigh, "Code?"
Satoru mumbled some incoherent words.
"Try again," you sighed.
"Phone," was all he managed, his head falling against the wall as he leaned straight into it.
You grabbed his phone from his jean pocket, tapping the screen to see that it was locked. You poked his cheek, "Password?"
He mumbled four numbers, the phone unlocking on the first try. You quickly made your way to his notes app, figuring he kept his door code in there somewhere. The sight of a few interesting notes was quietly filed away in your mind as you searched.
In true Satoru fashion, it was titled DOOR CODE (SECRET), a six-digit code that had the lock lighting up green before you pulled him inside. You led him to his bathroom, helping him to the floor as he began leaning over the toilet. You figured he wasn't done yet, and you were right as you heard the sound of him heaving as you searched for a change of clothes for him.
By the time you made it back to him, he was lying on the floor, curled up and looking five seconds away from falling asleep. You helped him sit up, leaning his back against the wall as you brushed his teeth for him.
When that was done, you helped him change, his shirt being the easiest. As you struggled with his jeans, you sighed, helping him to stand before leading him to his bed. You laid him down, shimmying his jeans the rest of the way off before slipping a pair of pajama pants up his long legs.
He whined your name as you stepped away, his hand darting out and locking around your own. His voice was pleading, a quiet hope laced in the singular word, "Stay."
You sighed, slipping your top off as you went to his closet and took his most luxurious plain t-shirt, also snagging a pair of expensive sweats for yourself. By the time you lay beside him, setting both of your phones on the nightstand, he was already drifting off. His arm came around you, tucking you close into his body as his head buried itself into your neck.
You internally sighed, once again wondering why he just didn't talk as much. He was so much more bearable when he wasn't speaking, in fact, it was pretty endearing that he drew so much comfort from you in his drunkenness.
Not enough to stray you from what you were really here for, though.
You waited until his breathing was deep and even before unlocking his phone. You made your way to Instagram, seeing at least ten women he'd talk to today.
The plan was simple.
You sent yourself a little bit of money, knowing he wouldn't even notice, before getting up and finding your discarded clothes. After pulling out your lip liner, not even a marker, because you were going easy on him, you wrote on his forehead.
WHORE
Before drawing a dick near his slightly open mouth.
You were trying to hold in your laughter as you took a picture, sending it to each woman with the caption, "COME GET YOUR MAN :("
The replies started rolling in quickly, but in the spirit of not wanting to spoil his fun, you didn't open any of the chats. You went to his group chat with his frat, took one last picture for them, and sent it with the same caption.
You sent the picture to yourself before deleting the message off his phone, quietly laughing as you made your way out of his room.
You were $1000 richer, had new clothes, and got to embarrass him a little. A perfect get back, and you couldn't wait to see what the morning brought you.
a/n: the things i could write about this reader and gojo...
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nanami laid you down gently on the mattress, his familiar scent crowded you almost immediately as you buried half your face deeper into his pillows, filling your nose with a propinquity that felt like home.
nanami stood close by the bed, gazing at you in a state of unreadiness. his usual slicked back hair was now down and unruly, navy shirt fit him snugly making his arm looked extra delicious, loose pants hanging on his torso. it had been a little late when you called him drunkenly to pick you up, he knew you were on a night out with shoko.
“ugh, it’s so hot,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt; nanami played along with a quiet smile on his face, moving a step closer just so your hand could reach. you pulled, beckoning him to sit on the side of the bed, he obliged easily, brushing away the hair that’s sticking on your face. “it’s warm, take off your shirt,” you blinked at him, as he chuckled softly.
“why should i take off my clothes when you’re the one feeling warm, hm?” he asked with a soothing voice, stroking your hair over and over.
“global warming, and stuff,” you rambled, giving up in putting sense on your sentence. nanami looked at you with wonder, curious to hear what amusing things will come out of your mouth next.
“i wonder what’s going on inside this head right now,” he said, rubbing his thumb gently at the side of your forehead. you sighed deeply, enjoying his touch.
“i want a kiss,” you claimed suddenly, proving his point. nanami shot a defeated smile, his eyed narrowed in adoration as he caved, planting a short kiss on your lips; his hair tickling your skin as he leaned down. nanami pulled away before you could savor the feel of his mouth thoroughly.
“more.”
he kissed you once more.
“more.” you whined softly, not liking how he ended each kiss so fast.
the only respond you received was a soft brush of his finger on your bottom lip as he said, “that’s all you’re getting tonight love.”
nanami saw your dramatic expression change, frowning as though it’s the end of the world. a hearty laugh escaped him at your theatric, rubbing your cheek with the back of his index finger, his touch felt feather light against your side, “you’re terribly drunk, the only thing you need to be doing right now is sleep.”
“not drunk,” you mumbled, even though sleep sounded amazing in your ear right now as you felt your eyelids getting heavier by the second, nanami’s ever so softly touch didn’t help you in staying awake at all.
“if you say so,” he replied easily, getting up from his spot without words, leaving you alone in bed. you flashed an exaggerated pout as if the man could still see you, not knowing he’s already returned to the same spot within a minute with a familiar looking bottle on his right hand.
“i don’t wanna drink anymore,” you murmured, giving him a pleading look. nanami chuckled.
“i’m not making you drink this, silly girl,” he claimed gently, pouring three drops of the liquid content to a cotton pad you’re just now seeing, before wiping away your face tenderly like you’re made of glass.
right. that’s your bottle of make up remover. “oh.”
the soft dab of the cotton on your face over and over made you sleepier, the consistent rhythm of rubbing and tapping nanami was working wonders, almost like a magician in soothing you. but the focused expression on his face as he leaned close to you held you back from going into the dream land.
“you’re so handsome,” you whispered, staring the man like he hung the moon.
“am i? thank you love,” he replied without missing a beat and at this point you knew this man would always respond patiently to whatever nonsense you were cooking in your mind even though it's easier to ignore what you're saying while you’re under the influence, instead he was spoiling you rotten.
“what about me? am i pretty?” you asked, eyes half-lidded.
“the prettiest.” he smiled tenderly, stopping just to give you a smitten look before going back to work, the soft wipes of cotton underneath your eyes knocked you right into a daze, deciding to just close your eyes because it was too mush work to keep them opened
“ken?”
“yes love?”
"d’you think cats are sad they don’t get to blow candles on their birthday?” you asked in a serious tone, half your body felt like it’s being pulled into slumber, nanami’s laugh sounded like as though it’s underwater.
“maybe, but they’re going to be even more sad if you don’t go to bed now,” he said, the last thing you heard was the sound of an object being put on the bedside table and the feeling of your hair being brushed gently. nanami saw it happened as your breath slowed, head limping to the side.
he kissed your head softly, adjusting the blanket and tucked you all proper.
synopsis: an impromptu meeting of your betrothed, your fearful brother, and your sister who would benefit from feeling more fear.....
wc: 2.1k
a/n: the people have spoken and i present to the museum, more from the world of marriage of convenience <333
masterlist
You imagined the first time your siblings meeting Lord Sukuna would be an arranged event, perhaps a nice dinner, or maybe a designated outing. You most certainly did not expect what was occurring in front of you now.
“Sister,” your brother’s voice was quiet, fearful as he clutched your arm, shaking it gently.
“Yes?” You glanced back at him, immediately noticing how wide his eyes had gone. You stopped walking, turning towards him completely, “What has happened?”
“I believe our coward brother has caught sight of the lord of the estate,” your sister huffed beside you both, rolling her eyes as she nodded her head towards the hallway you just passed.
“Keep your voice down,” you chastised, “anyone could hear you running your mouth as you are now.”
“Do I run the risk of execution in this estate, sister? I have heard the rumors of our dear lord,” her voice was entirely condescending, no lack of regard for the situation.
To your younger sister there was nothing more to be feared than starving to death, an especially cold winter, or a bloodthirsty, desperate animal with nothing to lose. To your younger brother, there was much to be feared, where your sister was made strong from your circumstances, he was made timid.
Perhaps it was never having your parents to raise him, but you tried not to dwell on that thought, it worried you too much to know that despite everything, raising him on your own was not enough. You hoped that being around more people now would bring out more confidence, help him to grow in ways that were not possible beforehand.
“Yes you do, I shall kill you myself if I have to,” you narrowed your eyes at her as you pulled your brother closer to you. “There is nothing to fear, perhaps it was a servant you saw.”
“Uraume, do I look like a servant?” Lord Sukuna’s deep baritone voice came from behind you. Your shoulders tensing as you turned, pushing your brother behind you at the sound of his nearing footsteps.
“You could never be mistaken for anything but a lord,” the young child was eyeing the three of you, clearly irritated with whatever they had caught from your conversation.
“Perhaps I have let my looks slip, would you agree, my betrothed?" Lord Sukuna narrowed his four eyes as he stopped in front of you. You saw the moment they drifted to the pair of hands clutching the fabric at your waist, a singular eyebrow raising.
You bowed quickly, your siblings following in suit. You kept your voice even, your brother’s anxiety permeating the air, “Of course not, my lord. You are as handsome as the day I met you.”
A small snicker came from behind you and you silently cursed your ignorant sister for what was to come next.
“Do you mock Lord Sukuna?” The hallway began to chill at Uraume’s words, their small hands shaking by their side as they focused on your sister. “You insolent fool, how dare you accept his generosity and still do such a thing.”
“Apologies, it seems I do not share the same sentiments as my besotted sister,” your sister bowed deeply, her words patronizing and quite embarrassing for you.
Uraume scoffed, “You should do your best to learn manners, what a pitiful apology.”
“What would you have me say, child?” Your sister stood to her full height, squaring her shoulders as she glared at Uraume. “Shall I flatter my sister’s soon to be husband in front of our little group? Would that please you?”
“You-” Uraume took a step forward, ice forming in their hands as they began to raise them.
“My lord,” you cut in quickly, looking at Lord Sukuna to find a surprisingly mild expression on his face. “I must apologize profusely, it seems I have failed in my guardianship because my sister is entirely out of line.”
One of Lord Sukuna’s large hands settled on Uraume’s shoulder. In an uncharacteristically gentle gesture, he squeezed their shoulder as he spoke, “I believe you know how to subdue your temper better than that.”
“How can I let that imbecile speak in such a manner?” The singular finger they had pointed at your sister was tipped in the sharpest piece of ice you’d ever seen.
Your brother let out the softest squeak of fear, a cold feeling snaking down your spine as you watched Uraume and Lord Sukuna’s eyes settle on him.
“My lord, are you sure this marriage is most advantageous to you?” Uraume’s face was a mix of horror and disgust as they looked between the three of you.
“The decision is left to me, I have not properly met the children yet as it stands,” Lord Sukuna answered easily, stepping forward watching as your brother positioned himself further behind you.
“Both of you introduce yourselves, I should not even have to ask,” you scolded your siblings, gently nudging your brother from behind you.
Your sister stepped up first, bowing low and offering her name, “It is truly the pleasure of my life to be residing in your estate, my lord.”
The flattery was not lost on anyone as Uraume let out another scoff. Lord Sukuna merely looked down at her, his head cocking to the side, “You take after your sister, I see.”
Your sister straightened and with no hesitation, looked him in his eyes and said her next words, “Do not insult me.”
“You do not order-” Uraume started.
“I-” whatever you were going to speak next died on your lips as Lord Sukuna let out a soft chuckle.
“Perhaps we should beat the insolent behavior out of you?” He taunted, watching as your sister fortified her stance.
“Be my guest,” she challenged, a haughty look on her face.
“I would love nothing more,” Uraume stepped forward.
“L-lord,” your brother’s voice was quiet, his way of stepping in as he brought attention to himself. He bowed deeply, “Lord Sukuna, it is an honor to make your acquaintance."
“At least that one has little manners,” Uraume commented bitterly. You did not have to glance at your sister to know she was glaring daggers at the young child.
“Rise,” Lord Sukuna commanded, but his eyes were on you as he spoke, “Perhaps the failure only accounts for one of your siblings.”
You smiled softly, knowing your sister was irritated beside you only made it better, “Yes, well there is still time to correct her behavior.”
“Children, leave us. Uraume lead them to the nearest garden and wait for my return,” Lord Sukuna’s command had everyone acting immediately, but not without sounds of protests and heavy footfalls.
When the three of them finally turned the corner at the end of the hall you looked at Lord Sukuna, “Is there something amiss my lord?”
“I desired a private conversation with you,” he answered simply, as if it were so obvious.
“I understand, would you be so kind as to elaborate why?” You asked, the possibility that he was angry with your siblings seemed highly likely, even with his seemingly normal mood.
“I suppose I do not have a reason,” his brows furrowed together and you found yourself smiling up at him.
“You flatter me, my lord,” you had half a mind to reach out and place your hand on his bicep, the thought entirely out of line, but feeling entirely natural in theory.
“I suppose you are happy they were not afraid of me,” he commented, not quite a question but you answered anyway.
“I suppose, though I would not say my brother was fearless, my sister on the other hand,” you let out a sigh, “It goes without saying, but both of my siblings have different areas of growth they would benefit from.”
Your response was more thoughtful than you anticipated, as if you were truly speaking to someone who was more than an acquaintance of yours. The fact of the matter was formality wise, he was more than an acquaintance, but you had not taken a step towards deepening your emotional relationship more than necessary.
“They are still young, and truthfully, I would say the same of Uraume,” he noted, turning his body more towards you as he spoke.
“I believe Uraume will benefit from being around other children, just as I believe my brother can learn much from them,” you glanced in the direction the three of them had disappeared down.
“What about you, betrothed? What will you benefit from?” His question was simple, but an unwelcome wave of warmth bloomed in your chest.
“I do believe you have generously offered me personal lessons,” you narrowed your eyes at him, a small smile tilting up the corners of your lips.
“I expect you to come prepared to further your dislike of me due to these lessons,” he folded his top pair of arms across his chest, his eyes studying your face.
“Then I shall prepare for such, what day do you suppose the first one will be? I should like to prepare myself as best as possible,” your finger tapped your lips in mock thought.
His eyes narrowed, “Brat.”
“I believe I could say the same,” you quipped, your lips twitching. “My lord, are you in need of assurance from your betrothed? Is that what you were hoping to gain?”
“Do you enjoy testing me, woman?” He narrowed his eyes, his free hands settling on his hips as he looked down his nose at you.
“It is a waste of oxygen to ask pointless questions,” you waved a hand at him, turning your face away to hide your growing smile.
“Pointless?” He stepped closer to you, the heat of his body radiating off him.
“When you already know the answer, why ask such a question?” You challenged, looking back at him.
“Is it not possible that I, too, enjoy testing you?” He leaned closer to you, his head cocking to the side. And for the first time, you were greeted by his scent, the pleasantness of it all too surprising.
Lord Sukuna smelled like sunlight, spring water, and a mix of herbs or flowers you couldn’t quite place. It was entirely different from what you thought he might smell like, but that was not the pressing thought in your mind, it was that you enjoyed it, perhaps too much.
“Then I look forward to petty arguments for the rest of my life, should we not kill each other first,” you raised a brow, looking up at him through your lashes, subconsciously taking another whiff of his scent.
“If anyone were to kill the other, it would be you,” he grumbled, straightening up, but not before poking you in the side of the head.
“I appreciate the confidence, it truly holds meaning coming from you, lord of death and destruction,” you rolled your eyes, once again forcing your lips to stay flat.
“You are wearing on me,” he sighed, beginning to walk in the direction of where the children headed.
“If I do not see you after this,” you inhaled deeply as you began following slightly behind him. “I thank you for your patience with my siblings.”
His feet slowed, matching your pace, letting you both settle into step before speaking. His voice was a quiet confusion, “I find myself uncharacteristically patient when it comes to you, betrothed.”
“Is that not a good thing, my lord?” You looked up at him, watching as his jaw worked in thought.
“The alternative is killing you for your defiance,” he shrugged, his tone considering as he nodded to himself.
“As long as you do not harm my siblings, I truly do not care if I am to die or not,” you answered honestly.
His large hand grasped your arm, halting both of you, “You will not speak of your life in such a manner again.”
“My lord?” Your brows furrowed as you looked at his hand, then his irritated face.
“I will not end the lives of your siblings for any reason,” was all he offered before letting you go and continuing to walk.
As you walked the rest of the way in silence, your mind continuously ran as you tried to figure out why Lord Sukuna would be so angry about what you said. Was it perhaps that he did not want you to die? It seemed so strange, so unbelievable, but what else could it be?
You did not dwell for long, your thoughts interrupted by the sounds of arguing carrying to you both as you neared your siblings and Uraume. Perhaps you would think on it later, as you readied yourself for bed, you thought.
But what you knew for certain was that you enjoyed believing he wanted you alive.
a/n: need reader and sukuna beefed up over training next.... hehe...
Ahhhh its already the last day of Nanami week 😭 I will miss this. I had a lot of fun as well as stressing out about the prompts lol. Participating in an event like this after a long time and I am glad I still got it! 🥹💜
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: happy final day of nanami week <333
i'm so so so grateful to everyone who read my stories!!! thank you for all the support and kind words, i hope you'll stick around to see what else i write <333 (and if you don't, thanks for taking time to be with me now, i had the best time this week)
art by @/zeilorene0 on x - divider by @/pixopix
The day your husband came home from work with half of his upper body covered in burned scars was the day your world as you knew it fell apart.
No longer could he hide the truth from you about what he did for work. No longer did you wonder if he was lying to you the entire time you’d been together, because now you knew for certain he was.
“Oh my god, Ken,” your hands flew over your mouth, your body immediately began to shake at the sight of him walking through the front door. Your feet hardly cooperating as you tried to make your way to him quickly. You stumbled into the coffee table, feet still moving as you steadied yourself against the wall.
He was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, something you rarely ever saw your husband in. A pair of unfamiliar glasses sitting on his nose as he looked at you with shame in his one working eye.
“Darling, I think you should sit down,” his words were soft, a note of agony in them as he approached you with his hands raised.
Your body collided with him, his strength steadying you as your hands frantically roamed over him, trying to make sure it was really him.
The last twenty-four hours had been hell, his service going out as he worked Halloween night in Shibuya. Only to get a call from someone you’d never heard of saying your husband was currently receiving treatment for injuries. You could hardly believe what you were hearing, he worked in finance, what could he possibly be doing late at the office on Halloween that would injure him?
Unfortunately that was all the information you were given, the number no longer in service as you spent the remaining time pacing your home. Your worries consuming you as you thought of anything and everything that could have happened to him. The man in front of you now, with burn scars like you’d never seen, hardly seemed real at all.
“Are you in pain, I’m so sorry,” you tried to pull away but his arm snaked around your waist, holding you against him as his other arm drifted into your hair.
“Baby, I have something to tell you,” his voice was filled with anguish as he held you tighter, breathing in your scent.
You pulled back, his hand leaving your hair to immediately wipe the tears you hadn’t realized were spilling down your cheeks. Your heart was beating wildly, your chest felt heavy as a sense of premonition washed over you, “What happened?”
Kento gently guided you back to the couch, both of you sitting next to each other as you stared at him. The air in the room grew heavy with anticipation, your heart constricting the longer you waited.
“I want you to know I’ll never forgive myself for lying to you,” the words were hoarse, his voice barely working as the first tear slipped down his cheek. Your mind was spinning, a sick feeling of dread creeping up your spine as you listened. “I almost died at work yesterday.”
The words invoked a cold feeling snaking down your spine, the truth as terrifying as ever once it was voiced. Your voice was quiet, filled with fear at the answer he would give you, “Ken, I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
You listened silently as your husband told you of what he really did for work, what jujutsu sorcery was, what his role was in their world, and how yesterday one of the most frightening attacks in history occurred in Shibuya.
You were silent because you could not decide what emotion was most prevalent. Was it sadness because you could’ve lost your husband at any moment and never understood why? Was it anger because you were kept in the dark the entire time you’ve known him? Was it fear because life before today was not the life you thought you knew? Or was every emotion one singular feeling that suffocated you in the weight of the truth?
The tears were hardly noticeable to you, even as they flowed easily down your face and fell onto your shaking hands. How could they be noticed when your head was pounding and your chest felt like it would implode?
“I’m so sorry,” his voice was a whisper, but it felt like a bomb going off as your body crumpled inwards.
You could hardly breathe once the sobs started, hardly forming the words, “I could’ve lost you.”
Your husband’s arms pulled you onto his lap, you could feel his body shaking from his own tears as he held you close. The pressure on your chest was unbearable as you clenched his shirt in your hands, shoving your face into his familiar warmth as you tried to come to terms with everything.
“Please, don’t go back,” you whispered, snaking your arms around his waist and pulling yourself closer.
“Never,” his hand was stroking your hair, “they’re allowing me to retire.”
“I don’t understand how you’re not in pain,” you murmured, letting your hand drift into his newly scarred one.
“Our doctor worked on me for hours, making sure I healed properly,” his voice was quiet in a way you’d never heard. “Getting used to it will be something.”
“What do you mean?” You pulled away, looking at him, taking note of his now milky left eye, his hair that had been scorched away. He was still yours, as handsome as always.
“I can’t stand to look at myself like this, I’m not the man you married anymore,” a bitterness underlying his words.
“Yes you are,” you were firm and unyielding, even as he tried to shake his head. “You think you’re not because you look a little different?”
“A little different?” He scoffed. “I can’t see out of one eye, half my hair is gone, and my wedding ring hardly fit over my scars today. You consider that a little different?”
His words were like a slap across your face, and for the first time since you’d met him, you flinched, your body subconsciously moving you away from the source of pain.
His sharp intake of breath was loud in the silence, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“You don’t have to be strong in front of me. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do things that make sense. None of that matters to me, I just want you,” your hands gently reached up, cradling his face as you held his gaze. “I’m here, and I always will be.”
He nuzzled the right side of his face into your hand, turning his lips to place a brief kiss to your palm. His voice was so quiet, barely audible as he whispered, “Can you do something for me?”
“Anything,” your answer was immediate.
“They don’t-” his voice was gruff, “they don’t know if my hair will grow back.” The truth was loud, something you could tell that wore down on him immensely. Your heart ached as he spoke his request, “Will you shave my head?”
“Yes, baby,” you whispered, placing a soft kiss to his lips before standing.
The entire walk to the bathroom was silent, and it was silent up until you turned on the electric shaver. You worked gently across his head, watching in tortured silence as his blond locks fell to the floor. A piece of him falling away that you could witness with your eyes. The sight of tears falling along with the strands was your undoing, your own beginning to fall along with the mix.
When you were done, he stood slowly, kissing you softly before heading into your bedroom and laying down.
The silence was unbearable, the shadows haunting his eyes at every hour of the day as he moved through life like a husk. Even the brief shuffling of feet when he finally needed to eat offered no respite, because he no longer asked what you had cooked, no longer made small talk.
Every time you noticed a new habit, it broke you, like keeping his left side away from you. The lack of physical affection you had grown used to, needed like air, was no longer a part of your life. The way he no longer drank anything warm, his familiar cup of coffee in the morning discarded. The showers that ran cold, no sign of steam in the bathroom, the only indication he had been in there was the dampness in the air. The glasses flung across whatever surface, his hatred for them apparent in his treatment of them.
Every time he spoke his voice was rough with disuse, but you feared pushing him would break him. And you did not know what you would do if you really did lose your husband.
After weeks, possibly more than a month of quiet, it finally broke when he burned his hand on the stove. You had just finished cooking, he was quietly coming in behind you to tidy up the kitchen when you heard a hiss of pain and the sound of his hand slamming onto the counter, rattling everything.
“Goddammit,” the words were biting, spoken through gritted teeth. Your head whipped over, seeing him clutching his right wrist as his breath heaved in and out.
“Kento, honey, are you okay?” You asked quietly, standing slowly in the fear that you would say or do something wrong.
“No,” the word was a groan, a quiet admission that set off a bomb inside of him. You watched as his hands started to shake, his back still to you as he slammed both of them on the counter. “I’m not, and I probably never will be. I can’t fucking live like this anymore, pretending like I’m fine when we both know I’m a walking disaster!”
You gently placed your hands on his back, keeping your voice soothing as you spoke, “You don’t have to be fine.”
“You deserve a husband who functions normally, who is normal” his head fell forward limply, but he did not shake off your touch.
You let your hands drift apart, grabbing his hips and softly nudging him to turn around, your voice pleading, begging him to understand, “I want you, as you are. I need you as you are. Ken, come back to me.”
“I don’t think I can, not like this,” the words crushed down on your chest, your windpipe burning as you processed what he said. His eyes closed, the tears falling down his cheeks were reflective of your own.
“Then we need to do something, I’m not going to lose you,” your hands drifted up his chest, settling on his cheeks. “Look at me, baby.”
“I can’t,” his voice was broken, a silent plea for you to give up on him.
“You have to, I need you here with me,” you pulled his face down closer to yours. “I ache for you, in every meaning. I will always love you, please let me love you.”
His eyes finally opened, that familiar hazel color and the unfamiliar milky one gazing back at you had a small smile turning your lips upwards. His arms snaked around your torso, pulling you closer for the first time in weeks.
A breath left you, weight slipping off your chest as your smile became more genuine, your words a whisper between the two of you, “You have no idea how much I wish you could see yourself like I do.”
“I love you,” he whispered back, his lips meeting yours and that familiar wave of warmth rushing through you at the contact.
“I love everything that you are, there is nothing that would ever make me stop loving you,” you murmured, pressing your lips back to his as his arms wrapped around you tighter.
He pulled back, setting his face in the crook of your neck as he inhaled deeply, “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Existed,” you answered simply, letting your body mold to his as you held him, the feeling of tears falling on your shoulders had you clutching him tighter.
“I’m going to get better,” it was a quiet conviction, a promise to the both of you that he saw through.
You saw his effort when he started getting professional help. Saw how hard he tried when he placed kisses on the back of your hand, let his fingers drift across your hair as he passed, saw the shudder run through him as you placed kisses across his scarred hand.
He started drinking tea, letting the bag steep for longer than necessary in order to let it mostly cool, but it was a step that made your heart swell. He asked for your help picking out a chain for his glasses, letting you know that it was the feeling of them that bothered him. He threw them around because he wished to take them off so often, the foreign feeling on his nose and ears grating.
The first time you saw him smile, weeks later on Christmas Eve you almost cried. He saw your expression and smiled harder, turning away from you in an unfamiliarly shy gesture. You were bounding across the room, forcefully turning him back to you as your own smile met his. He caged your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, groaning in your mouth at your eagerness as you met his tongue desperately.
When you two stumbled into bed, his first sign of hesitance hit as he reached for his shirt. Your hands closed around his, a silent offering that he accepted as you both slipped it over his head.
He was so beautiful, so strong, you couldn’t help yourself as you started kissing all over him. Both sides of him. You missed him so much that you kissed every part he let you until he was dragging your face to his and kissing you so passionately your mind emptied.
When he finally slid inside of you, your hands holding his face near yours as you looked into each other's eyes, the first tear slipped from you. His lips met yours gently, the slow rocking of his hips as he moved inside of you, so familiar, so full of love. The two of you held each other closely, savoring this intimate touch you shared as your bodies remembered one another.
He began finding himself, remembering who he was before he was a sorcerer. Reading more often even as he began preparations to open up a small bakery. Cooking meals for the two of you again, surprising you with your favorite after a long day at work. Letting you run your hands through the hair growing back slowly, evenly across his entire head. Even mentioning a trip to Malaysia that the two of you took in February before the grand opening of the bakery.
Nanami truly found himself again, understood his purpose in life the day you handed him a takeout box from the bakery. His brow furrowed as he looked down at the small box, wondering why you’d gone out of your way to visit the bakery when he could’ve gone.
“Open it,” you encouraged, your blinding smile entirely too contagious as he began to take off the top.
Inside, staring up at him, was a test. A test that showed two full, unmistakably pink lines.
“What?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his glasses slipping down his nose as he shoved them up higher to get a better look. “What is that?”
“You know what it is,” you smiled, pulling a mug from the cabinet, hidden behind all of the ones he started buying as a hobby. You held out the newest one, three words spelling it all out for him.
WORLDS BEST DAD
He blinked slowly, looking between you, the test, and the mug.
“I’m going to be a dad?” His voice was a mix of joy, confusion, and utter disbelief.
“I think that’s what that means when I get pregnant,” you laughed lightly, watching as he slowly set the box down before taking the mug from your hand and setting it down gently.
He kissed you, so tenderly, the silent words passing between you as his hands settled on your face. He pulled back ever so slightly, his words a soft brush against your lips, “You are the light of my life, and I promise to you now I will cherish you and our baby until I take my last breath.”
He kept that promise, you thought as you watched your grandkids run around your backyard. Their laughter carried to you as you looked over at your husband's familiar face, the slight dusting of gray at his temples becoming a rush of happiness for you. Along with those lines that had formed around his eyes and mouth, from all the years of smiling. And those familiar glasses, hanging from the chain around his neck.
The knock on the door to your exam room was as normal as any, but the tall, broad shouldered, blond-haired doctor coming through it was anything but.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Nanami,” he said as he absentmindedly flipped through your chart. “I’ll be filling in for Dr. Ieiri today.”
You nodded softly, your heart pounding the more details you took in. His strong, veiny hands. Those long, muscular legs that were currently being hugged perfectly by his slacks. Even those wire-framed glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he set his paperwork down and began washing his hands.
“What brings you in today?” He asked, his back to you as you eye fucked his shoulders and gorgeous ass.
“Regular checkup,” your voice came out more breathless than you hoped, your face warming as you tried to keep your nerves from being so obvious.
“That’s good,” he murmured, taking a few paper towels to dry his hands off. When he faced you, your heart skipped a beat, “We’ll start with your lungs, do you mind if I touch you?”
The question was completely innocent in this context, but your mind immediately had you jumping to another scenario as your body flushed. You barely managed a nod, looking into his hazel eyes for a brief second before looking back down at your lap.
His movements were precise as he put on his stethoscope and placed it on your back, “Breathe in.”
Your breath was shaky and you could tell he noticed by the slight furrow in his brow, but to his credit he didn’t comment on it.
“Out,” he spoke and the air left you quickly, your mind hardly working on your own as it complied with his demands immediately.
“There you go,” his voice was full of praise as he moved the stethoscope to the other side, your heart racing. “Your heart is pounding, the beats per minute the nurse wrote down seems off. Do you mind if I run the test again?”
“No, that’s fine,” your voice was weak and you silently cursed yourself.
If there was any higher being watching me, you thought, please strike me down now so I don’t have to continue to face this handsome doctor doing his job while I lose my mind.
Nanami fitted the pulse oximeter on your finger, letting it run its course while he looked over your chart again. When the device beeped, his large hand grasped yours as he slid it off, the touch sending shockwaves through your body.
“107 beats per minute, but your resting was 68,” his brow furrowed even more as he talked to himself, clearly trying to find the cause of this.
His complete obliviousness had your body burning with embarrassment as you waited for him to continue listening to your lungs.
“Can I do a blood pressure test as well, this is rather… odd,” he shook his head, looking over at you from the corner of his eye.
“Okay,” you practically squeaked, your nerves spiking at the thought of more evidence of your anxiety being written down.
His strong hands kept skimming your skin as he fit the cuff around you, the combination with his devourable smell had you practically salivating. It was unfair that you had to be in this situation instead of a quick checkup you expected with your regular doctor. Your face was burning as you waited for your results, the clear concern in his eyes kept you from saying anything due to embarrassment.
“This is much higher than before, are you feeling okay?” The back of his hand met your forehead and you almost flinched away from the touch. “You’re so hot,” his voice full of concern kept you from doing or saying anything, “I’m going to take your temperature, okay?”
You nodded weakly, wishing more than anything to curl up in a hole and die as he turned towards the drawers, quickly rustling through them as he searched. Dr. Nanami turned around with a sheepish look, holding up a thermometer meant for your mouth.
“All I could find,” he murmured as he stepped closer to you, his free hand coming under your chin as he looked into your eyes and said with complete seriousness, “Open up for me.”
The choked noise that came out of you had both of you looking at each other with wide eyes.
“I- I’m-” you stammered, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry-”
“I’m not sure I understand,” the hesitance in how to proceed was clear in his voice as you continued hiding your face.
The door suddenly opened, you peeked through your fingers to see a beautiful man with long black hair taking in the situation before sighing loudly, “Making patients nervous again, doctor?”
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