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the clock on your bedside table reads 7:14am and clark has you on your side, his body engulfing yours as his chest presses up against your back. with an arm wrapped around your front, clark holds you tight against him—rubbing slow, languid circles on your swollen clit.

a soft, muffled groan tumbles from clark’s lips as you slowly roll your hips back—his cock nestled deep inside your cunt, stretching you open. you desperately try to fight back your need for him, for his cock, knowing you have to get ready for work, but you’re practically begging for more. 

his pelvis is snug against your ass—coarse curls beneath his navel brushing against you. you feel all of him, every ridge, every vein, every twitch as he rocks into your cunt. clark moves his hand to grip your thigh, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he gently hooks your leg over his thigh, spreading you wider.

the new angle drove him deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. the room fills with your breaths mingling together with the filthy, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. 

just as quickly as it left, clarks hand returns to your clit and you instinctively clench around him, trying to pull him deeper as he ruts against you. clark’s breath is warm against the nape of your neck as he lightly bites down on the skin of your shoulder. 

every roll of clark’s hips is with a little more tenacity each time, seeking that delicious friction. the pleasure is overwhelming, completely taking over all of your senses. you can’t think of anything else, except for clark, and how he's ruining you for anyone else.

“taking me so well, baby,” he mutters, kissing behind your ear.

you cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets, then at his forearm—your nails leaving crescent indents in his skin. he revels in the soft, needy moans you make with each shallow thrust. you move your hips in counterpoint, chasing the pleasure of his fingers and the fullness of his cock. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart, that's it,” he mumbles, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. 

an embarrassingly loud moan slips from your lips as you cum without warning. your body shudders hard against his—your orgasm crashing through you and taking your breath away. clark gently coaxes you through it, rocking his hips in a slow, gentle rhythm while pressing tender kisses along your shoulder and neck. 

clark's hips stutter and his own orgasm catches him off-guard. he buries himself to the hilt, releasing thick, hot ropes of cum deep within your cunt—filling you completely as his cock throbs and pulses inside you.  

you clench around him and clark hides his face in your neck with a weak, tired chuckle. his hand squeezes your hip tenderly as he slowly eases himself out of you. your cunt clenches around nothing, missing his cock already. you can feel his release leak from you and slide down your thighs but you pay no mind to it.

“good morning to you too,” clark says through soft pants.

“hmm, good morning indeed,” you hum, turning to face him with a small smile.

note — post #1 for my 1k celebration!!

you were satoru’s go-to, his reliable, the only person he texted at midnight with nothing but an address or a you up? and you’d show up, or he’d show up, and there was no pretense, no performance, just the two of you, falling into each other like it was the easiest thing in the world.

satoru knew by heart the pretty little sounds you made when you were trying to stay quiet, satoru knew the way your hands fisted in his sheets when he hit the right spot, satoru knew the way you’d shove at his chest afterward, laughing, telling him to go get a towel, you menace.

and he knew — he knew — that there was no one else.

not because you’d ever promised each other anything; you hadn’t, that was the whole point. but somewhere along the way, it had just become… understood. you were his. not in a way that required words, but in a way that was simply true.

so when nanami mentioned, so casually it almost didn’t register, that he’d seen you at that café on fourth street with some guy from the business school — tall, dark hair, looked like he was trying way too hard — gojo didn’t react.

really, he didn’t react.

he just stood there in the doorway of nanami’s apartment, a red solo cup dangling from his fingers, and blinked.

“what?”

“your friend,” nanami said, unbothered, because nanami was always unbothered, which was probably why gojo kept him around. “the one you’re always with. she was on a date.”

a date?

the word landed somewhere in satoru’s chest like a stone dropped into still water, and the ripples spread outward before he could stop them.

“it wasn’t a date,” he heard himself say, and even he didn’t believe it at all.

nanami just raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his beer.

“she was laughing at his jokes. he paid. and she let him walk her to her door.”

satoru’s jaw tightened.

he didn’t even ask how the hell nanami knew about the door part. actually, he didn’t ask anything. he just stood there for a beat too long, then laughed — a short, sharp sound that didn’t reach his eyes — and said something dismissive, something about good for her, and walked away.

but the feeling didn’t go away.

it sat in satoru’s chest for the rest of the night, heavy and hot, and by the time he got back to his own apartment, he’d convinced himself it was just… surprise. yeah, that was all. you’d never once mentioned going on a date. you’d never mentioned anyone else. and okay, fine, you didn’t owe him that, you didn’t owe him anything, but—

but…

satoru woke up the next morning with that same weight pressing down on him, and it didn’t lift; not when he went to class, not when he sat through a lecture he didn’t hear a word of, not when he pulled out his phone and stared at your name in his messages; his thumb hovering over the keyboard, typing and deleting and typing again.

hey, you free tonight?

what are you doing later?

heard you went on a date???

satoru deleted that last one before he could send it.

it sounded crazy. it sounded jealous. and gojo satoru didn’t get jealous; no, gojo satoru was the one who’d set the rules in the first place. gojo satoru didn’t do complications.

so why did it feel like his chest was caving in?

he told himself he wasn’t going to say anything. he told himself it was none of his business. he told himself that whatever you did, whoever you saw, it didn’t matter, because you weren’t his, and that was exactly how he’d wanted it.

but, three days later, satoru saw you walking across campus.

you were smiling. not at him — you were smiling at your phone, your thumbs moving fast over the screen, your cheeks a little pink. and you were dressed differently, too. not in the sweats and oversized hoodie you wore when you came over to his place, but in a pretty skirt. a pretty skirt. with your legs bare and your hair down and something soft and open about your face that satoru had never seen before.

or maybe he had, maybe he just hadn’t been looking.

oh.

the realization hit him like a freight train.

satoru was in love with you.

not the casual, comfortable fondness he’d let himself feel. not the you’re fun, you’re hot, we work well together kind of affection, but something real. something terrifying, something that had been growing in the spaces satoru purposely hadn’t been paying attention to, rooting itself deep, and now it was way too late to pull it out.

satoru stood there in the middle of the quad, simply watching you walk away, and for the first time in his life, gojo satoru had no idea what to do.

he spent the next two days trying to talk himself out of it.

it was just habit, he told himself. you’d been around for three years, of course he’d miss you if you weren’t there anymore. it didn’t mean anything. it was just—

but every time he closed his eyes, he saw you in that skirt, smiling at your phone, laughing at some other guy’s jokes.

and the thought of someone else’s hands on you, someone else’s mouth, someone else waking up next to you in the morning, made something in him go white-hot and feral.

satoru couldn’t eat, he couldn’t even sleep; the boy was pacing his apartment like a caged animal, running his hands through his soft white hair until it stuck up in every weird direction, and when his phone buzzed — your name lighting up the screen — he nearly dropped it.

hi, you okay? haven’t heard from you in a few days.

satoru stared at it.

and then, before he could think better of it, he was grabbing his keys and walking out the door.

satoru didn’t knock.

actually, he never knocked — you’d given him a key ages ago, back when it was easier than you having to get up and let him in at 2am — but this time, when he pushed the door open, there was nothing easy about it.

you were sitting on your couch, a textbook open on your lap, a pen prettily tucked behind your ear. your hair was up in a messy bun, and you were wearing those ridiculous fuzzy socks you loved so much, and you looked so normal, so you, that his chest physically ached.

“satoru?”

you looked up, eyebrows drawing together. your eyes swept over him — at the wild hair, the dark circles under his blue eyes, the tension in his jaw — and something shifted in your expression. now there was concern, and confusion.

“what’s wrong? you look—”

“don’t go.”

the words roughly came out before satoru could stop them; cracked at the edges, not his voice at all.

you blinked. “what?”

satoru stood in the doorway, completely frozen, his hand still on the doorknob. he’d imagined this moment a hundred times in the past two days, and in every version, he was smooth, he was charming, he found the perfect words, the perfect smile, the perfect way to make this easy.

but that wasn’t what happened at all.

what happened was that satoru’s hands started shaking. what happened was that his voice cracked in the middle of your name. what happened was that he stood there, six-foot-three and undone, looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“i heard you went on a date.”

your mouth opened before closing again.

“how did you—”

“it doesn’t matter.”

satoru stepped forward, then stopped, like he wasn’t really sure he was allowed to come any closer. his hands were shoved in his pockets now, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was working, the way he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“just—don’t go on another one.”

“satoru…”

“i know,” he laughed, but it was hollow, nothing like the easy, carefree sound you were used to. “i know i don’t have the right to say that. i know what we are. i know i’m the one who said no feelings, no complications, no—”

satoru’s voice broke.

he stopped, slowly swallowed, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were bright, his usual arrogance stripped away until all that was left was something raw and desperate and so achingly human it made your chest tighten.

“don’t go,” he said again, softer this time. “please.”

you set your textbook aside slowly, your heart pounding.

you’d never seen satoru like this. hell, you’d never seen him anything less than composed, less than perfectly in control, and the sight of him right now — messy, shaking, his carefully constructed walls crumbling around him — made something twist in your stomach.

“satoru,” you said carefully. “what are you saying?”

he crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees in front of the couch.

your breath caught.

satoru’s hands came up to rest on your knees, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sweatpants like he was holding on for dear life. he was looking up at you now, and there was nothing playful in his gaze, nothing teasing, just heat and fear and something that looked terrifyingly like love.

“i’ll do anything,” satoru said, and his voice was low, rough, cracking on the last syllable. “i’ll be whatever you want. whatever you need. just—just don’t—”

satoru couldn’t even finish the sentence.

his forehead dropped to your knee, and you felt the shudder that ran through him, felt the way his hands tightened, and your heart, your stupid, traitorous heart, was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“i’ll stop being an idiot,” he mumbled against your leg. “i’ll stop pretending i don’t—that i don’t—”

he lifted his head, and his eyes were wet.

gojo satoru, who literally never cried about anything, who laughed in the face of anything serious, who had spent three whole years keeping you at arm’s length so he wouldn’t have to feel this — was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“i love you,” he said, and the words came out broken, desperate, nothing like the smooth confession he’d probably imagined. “i love you, and i’m an idiot, and i know i don’t deserve to ask you for anything, but please. please. don’t go.”

you stared at him.

and then, before you could think, before you could second-guess or talk yourself out of it, you were leaning forward, cupping his face in your hands, and pulling him up.

satoru came easily, eagerly, his huge hands sliding up your thighs as he rose to his knees, then higher, until his face was level with yours. his breath was warm against your lips, his alluring eyes searching yours for something you weren’t sure you knew how to give.

“say something,” he whispered. “please. i’m losing my mind.”

you simply kissed him.

and this kiss was three years of pretending you didn’t want more, three years of biting your tongue and telling yourself it was fine, three years of loving him from a safe distance — all of it poured into one desperate, messy press of lips.

satoru made a sound against your mouth, something between a gasp and a groan, and then his hands were in your hair, pulling you closer, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper. his tongue slid against yours, and the taste of him, the feel of him — familiar and yet completely new, now that there was nothing held back — made your head spin.

“i really thought—” satoru broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing ragged. “i thought you were going to—some other guy, and i really couldn’t—i couldn’t breathe, i couldn’t think—”

“there was no other guy,” you said, and you heard your own voice crack, heard the tears you hadn’t realized you were holding back. “i went on one date, and i spent the whole time wishing it was you.”

satoru’s hands tightened in your hair.

“say that again.”

“i wished it was you, satoru,” you whispered. “i’ve always wished it was you.”

the sound he made was almost pained, and his mouth found yours again, hungrier this time, and his huge hands slid down your body — your shoulders, your arms, your waist — like he was relearning every single inch of you, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed against your lips. “i’m sorry i was so stupid. i’m sorry i made you think—”

“satoru.”

“—that i didn’t want this. that i didn’t want you. because i do, i want you so much it scares me, i want—”

you kissed him quiet, and satoru completely melted into you, his weight pressing you back against the couch cushions, his body covering yours like he was trying to shield you from the rest of the world.

“show me,” you said, pulling back just enough to look at him.

satoru’s pupils were blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his hair a complete mess; he looked wrecked, he looked beautiful.

“show me how much you want me.”

his breath stuttered out of him.

“fuck,” satoru whispered.

and then the boy was kissing down your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat, his huge hands pushing up under your shirt, his palms flat against your stomach, your ribs, the undersides of your breasts.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said, and his voice was low, rough, and reverent. “i’m gonna make you forget anyone else ever existed. i’m gonna make you mine.”

satoru looked up at you then, still on his knees between your legs, his face flushed, his eyes dark, and there was nothing playful about him; just a man who’d spent three whole years running from something he should have been running toward, finally, finally done pretending.

“tell me you want that,” he said. “tell me you want me.”

you reached down, cupped his face in your hands, and pulled him up until his lips were a breath away from yours.

“i’ve always wanted you,” you said. “i was just waiting for you to catch up.”

he kissed you like a man drowning, and you let yourself fall.

satoru’s mouth was desperate, hungry, like he was trying to make up for three years of holding back in a single kiss. his hands were everywhere — your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, your waist — like he couldn’t decide where to touch first, like he needed to feel all of you at once or he’d forget how.

you kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between you. satoru’s weight pressed you into the couch cushions, and you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, or maybe that was yours, or maybe it was both of you, tangled up together and beating out of sync.

“need—” satoru gasped against your mouth, pulling back just far enough to breathe, and his voice was wrecked, barely there. “need you in your room. now.”

you didn’t have time to respond before he was pulling you up, his huge hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you without apparent effort. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and his mouth was on yours again before you could even register that you were moving.

satoru didn’t break the kiss.

not when he stumbled slightly in the hallway, not when his shoulder bumped the doorframe, not when he slowly lowered your body onto your bed and followed you down, his body completely covering yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go for even a single second.

your back hit the mattress, and satoru was there, everywhere, his lips never leaving yours. his tongue slid against your lower lip, then into your mouth, slow and deep, and you moaned, your hands coming up to tangle in his white hair, pulling him closer even though there was nowhere left to go.

“satoru,” you breathed, and he made a sound; low, almost pained, against your mouth.

“say it again.”

“satoru—”

his hips pressed into yours, and you felt him then, already hard and so so so desperate through his jeans, and the way he shuddered when you instinctively rolled up to meet him sent a thrill through your entire body.

“fuck,” satoru whispered.

his lips trailed away from your mouth, down your jaw, your throat, the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“i’ve got you. i’ve got you, okay? just let me—”

satoru’s hands were shaking as he pushed up the hem of your shirt, his palms sliding against bare skin, and he pulled back just enough to look at you; and oh, his eyes were dark, pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left.

“you have no idea,” he said, and his voice cracked. “how long i’ve wanted to do this. for real.”

you reached down, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and tugged it; satoru helped you pull it over his head, and then he was bare above you, with broad shoulders and lean muscle, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.

you let your hands trace down his collarbone, his chest, the lines of his abdomen, and he shivered under your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second.

“you’re so pretty,” you said without thinking, and he let out a breathless laugh — the first real laugh you’d heard from him all night, soft and surprised and a little embarrassed.

“that’s supposed to be my line.”

satoru dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, then lower, his lips dragging down your sternum as his fingers found the hem of your shirt again. he pushed it up, slowly, uncovering you inch by inch, and when his mouth reached the lace of your bra, he paused.

his breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel him trembling again as he looked up at you through his lashes.

“can i?”

you nodded, not trusting your voice, and satoru smiled before hooking his fingers under the fabric and pulling it down.

satoru’s hands were so careful as he bared you, reverent almost, and the way he looked at you completely made your stomach flip; like you were something precious, something he couldn’t believe he got to touch.

“god,” the boy breathed, and then his mouth was on you, hot and wet and so perfect, his warm tongue circling your nipple before sucking gently.

your back arched off the bed, a gasp tearing out of you, and his hand came up to cup your other breast, his thumb brushing over the peak in slow, deliberate circles.

“satoru—”

“i know,” he murmured against your skin, switching to the other side, his teeth grazing lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.”

the words sent a rush of heat through you, pooling low in your belly, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

satoru must have noticed, because his hips rolled into the mattress, a soft groan escaping him, and his mouth started moving lower again; down your ribs, your stomach, your hipbone, his lips and teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he paused at the waistband of your sweatpants, his fingers hooking into the elastic, and looked up at you.

“okay?”

well… you were pretty sure you’d never been more okay in your entire life.

“fuck, yes,” you said, and your voice came out breathless, desperate. “please.”

satoru’s eyes darkened.

he pulled your sweatpants down slowly, dragging them over your hips, your thighs, your knees, his knuckles brushing against your skin with every inch. when he reached your ankles, he tossed them aside, and then he was just staring at you — you, laid out beneath him in nothing but a pair of thin cotton panties that were definitely already soaked through.

satoru’s hands slid up your calves, your knees, the insides of your thighs, pushing them gently apart. you let him, spreading for him without hesitation, and the noise he made when he saw the dark spot on your underwear was almost animal.

“fuck,” he breathed. “you’re already so wet.”

your face burned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed — not with the way he was looking at you, like you were something he’d been starving for.

satoru hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with the same agonizing slowness; you lifted your hips to help, and he slid them off, discarding them somewhere on the floor, and then—

then he was just looking at you. all of you. his gaze so intense it made your thighs twitch, made you want to close them, but satoru held them open, his hands firm on your knees.

“so pretty,” he said, echoing your words from earlier, and his voice was rough, reverent. “so pretty, and you’ve been right here the whole time, and i was too stupid to—”

he cut himself off, shaking his head, and then he was lowering himself, his shoulders spreading your thighs further apart, his breath hot against the inside of your leg.

“satoru—”

“i’m gonna take my time,” he said, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, just inches from where you needed him. “i’ve waited three years. i’m not rushing this.”

satoru pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, then another, then another; each one higher, closer, until you were squirming beneath him, your fingers twisting in the sheets, a whine building in your throat.

“please,” you gasped. “satoru, please—”

“tell me what you want.”

“you know what i want.”

satoru hummed against your skin, and you felt his smile, his lips curving against your thigh.

“i want to hear you say it.”

your face was burning, your heart pounding, your entire body pulled taut like a string about to snap.

“i want you to—” you swallowed, your voice dropping to barely a whisper. “i want you to taste me.”

satoru’s exhale was shaky, almost surprised, like even though he’d asked for it, hearing you say it hit him harder than he expected — even though it’s not the first time.

“yeah?” his voice was low, a little rough. “you want my mouth on you, baby?”

you nodded, unable to form words, and he made a guttural sound before finally, finally lowering his head.

the first touch of his tongue was so light you almost thought you’d imagined it; it was a slow, flat lick from your entrance to your clit, broad and warm and unhurried, and your hips jerked off the bed, a cry tearing out of you.

“god,” satoru breathed, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “you taste even better than before.”

he did it again, slower this time, dragging his tongue through your folds like he was savoring you, and your hand flew down to tangle in his white hair, holding him there.

he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight up your spine, and his arms slid under your thighs, hooking over his shoulders, opening you up even more.

“stay still for me,” satoru murmured, and then his mouth was on you properly, his lips closing around your clit, his tongue circling in slow, deliberate strokes.

you couldn’t have stayed still even if you tried.

your hips rolled against satoru’s face, chasing the pressure, and he simply let you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady enough for him to work. he sucked gently, then harder, then released with a soft pop that made your breath hitch, before diving back in.

“satoru—”

“i know,” he said against you, his voice muffled, and the vibration made you moan. “let go. i’ve got you.”

satoru’s tongue flattened against your clit, pressing down just right, and your vision went white at the edges, but then he pulled back, switching to something slower, softer, and you whined in protest.

“patience,” he said, and you could hear the smirk even if you couldn’t see his face. “i told you. i’m taking my time.”

he kissed your inner thigh again, then your other thigh, then back to the center, teasing you with the lightest flick of his tongue before pulling away again. you were shaking now, your thighs trembling against his shoulders, and he seemed to sense that you were at your limit, because he stopped playing.

satoru’s mouth covered you again, his tongue working your clit in tight, focused circles while one of his hands slid up your thigh, his fingers brushing against your entrance.

you were so wet that he slid inside without resistance — one finger, then two, curling up just right, and your back arched off the bed, a broken cry escaping your lips.

“there she is,” satoru murmured, his breath so warm against you. “there you go, baby. that’s it.”

his fingers moved slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his tongue, in and out, curling against that sweet little spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.

you could feel yourself tightening around his long fingers, your climax building low and deep, and satoru must have felt it too, because his pace quickened, his tongue pressing harder, his fingers curling faster.

“come for me,” he said, his voice rough, desperate. “wanna taste it. wanna taste you when you fall apart.”

his mouth closed around your clit again, sucking gently, and his fingers pressed deeper, and the combination was too much, too perfect, too everything—

you shattered.

your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your hips bucking against satoru’s face, your hands fisting in his hair, a scream caught in your throat, but he didn’t stop; satoru kept licking, kept sucking, kept his fingers buried deep inside you, working you through it, drawing it out until you were gasping, trembling, completely undone.

and then, when you thought it was over, when you thought he’d finally let you breathe—

satoru didn’t stop.

his tongue was still moving, slower now, gentler, but still there, still circling, still pressing, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks, too much and not enough all at once.

“satoru,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. “satoru, i—”

he hummed against you, and the vibration made you whimper, your thighs trying to close around his head.

“shh,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. his chin was wet, his lips red and swollen, his eyes dark and half-lidded. he looked drunk. “i’m not done with you yet.”

“i can’t—”

“you can,” satoru lowered his mouth again, pressing a soft kiss to your clit that made you jolt. “you’re gonna give me one more. i know you can.”

his fingers started moving again, slow and deep, and his tongue went back to your clit, lighter this time, barely there, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

“you taste so fucking good,” he said, his voice muffled, and you could hear how much he meant it, could feel it in the way his hips were grinding into the mattress, desperate for friction he wasn’t giving himself. “i could stay here all night. i could eat you out until you forget your own name.”

your hands pushed weakly at his head, but he didn’t budge. if anything, he pressed closer, his tongue flattening against you, his fingers curling deeper.

“t-toru, please, it’s too much—”

“it’s not,” satoru said, and his voice was thick, almost reverent. “it’s not too much. you’re doing so well. you’re so good for me. just one more, okay? just one more, and i’ll stop.”

his thumb found your clit while his fingers kept working, rubbing slow circles that had you seeing stars, and you could feel the pressure building again, faster this time, sharper, too intense and too perfect and you couldn’t—

“that’s it,” he breathed. “that’s it, baby. let go. let go for me.”

your second orgasm hit before you could brace for it, ripping through you like a wave, and you did cry out — a broken, sobbing sound, your back arching off the bed, your hands shoving at his head, trying to push him away because it was too much, too much, too much—

but satoru didn’t move.

his mouth stayed on you, his tongue gentler now but still present, still tasting, still drawing out every last shudder until you were lying there, limp and trembling, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes.

only then did he lift his head.

satoru looked wrecked; his lips were slick, his chin wet, his hair a wild mess from your fingers. his chest was heaving, and when you looked down, you could see the obvious strain in his jeans, the way his hips were pressing into the mattress like he was trying to get any kind of friction.

but he was smiling, like he’d just been the one to come.

“hey,” he said, his voice rough, and he crawled up your body, his weight settling over you, his face hovering above yours.

satoru reached up, softly brushing the tears from your pink cheeks with his thumb, his expression tender in a way you’d never seen before.

“you okay?”

you couldn’t speak, so you just nodded, your breathing still uneven, your legs still shaking.

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose.

“you were so good,” satoru murmured against your skin. “so perfect. tasted like heaven.”

you let out a shaky laugh, your hands coming up to rest on his chest; you could feel satoru’s heartbeat under your palms, racing as fast as yours.

“you’re insane,” you whispered.

satoru grinned — that familiar, cocky grin, but it was softer around the edges.

“yeah,” he said, his hips pressing into yours, letting you feel exactly how much he’d enjoyed himself. “but you like it.”

and you didn’t deny it.

you just pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him, tasting yourself on satoru’s lips, and felt him smile against your mouth.

“i’m not done with you yet,” the boy said when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours. “but we’ve got all night. yeah?”

you smiled, your fingers tracing down his chest, over his stomach, to the waistband of his jeans.

“yeah,” you said. “all night.”

satoru’s grin softened into something warmer, something that made your chest ache in the best way ever.

he kissed you again — slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to pour every word he’d said tonight into the way his lips moved against yours. your fingers found the waistband of his jeans again, fumbling with the button, and for a moment he let you, his breath hitching when your knuckles brushed against the hardness straining beneath the denim.

but then satoru’s hand gently caught yours, his long fingers lacing through yours and pressing your palm flat against his stomach instead.

“wait,” he murmured against your lips. “wait.”

you blinked up at him, confused. “i thought—”

“i know what you thought,” his voice was low, rough, but there was a softness underneath it that made your stomach flip.

satoru brought your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“and i love that you want to. but not tonight.”

“satoru—”

“tonight,” he said, releasing your hand only to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “you’re the one getting taken care of.”

you opened your mouth to protest — you really wanted to touch him, you wanted to make him feel as wrecked as he’d made you — but he simply shook his head, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“let me,” he said, and his voice cracked just slightly on the words. “please. i need to show you. i need to—” he paused, swallowing, his eyes searching yours. “i spent three years pretending i didn’t want this. pretending i didn’t love you. and i can’t—i don’t want to be selfish anymore. not with you.”

your throat tightened. “toru, you’re not—”

“let me do this,” he whispered. “let me love you the way i should’ve been loving you this whole time.”

you couldn’t argue with that; not when satoru was looking at you like that, like you were something so precious, something he was afraid to break. you nodded, your hand coming up to rest over his on your cheek.

“okay,” you breathed. “okay.”

the smile he gave you was radiant — not the cocky, practiced grin he wore for the rest of the world, but something real, something so raw.

and then satoru was kissing you again, and this kiss was different from all the others; it was way slower, and it was way deeper. his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that made your toes curl, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips, your thighs, relearning every curve.

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard. he sat up, kneeling between your legs, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he reached for the button of his jeans.

satoru didn’t rush; his fingers worked the button open, then the zipper, and the sound of it seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of your room. the white haired boy pushed his jeans down his hips, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes dropped, couldn’t help the way your breath caught when you saw him — the thick length of him straining against his boxer briefs, a dark spot already forming at the tip.

“fuck,” you whispered.

you reached out, your fingers brushing against satoru’s, and helped him push them down.

he was — god. you’d seen him before, of course you had, three years of this arrangement meant you knew every single inch of him, but this was different. this was satoru, your satoru, kneeling above you with his heart in his throat and his cock now heavy against his stomach, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that really mattered.

you’d always known that satoru was big, but seeing him right now, flushed and leaking and so hard it had to be painful, made your mouth water.

“you’re staring,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, but there was a tremor underneath it.

“you’re worth staring at.”

satoru’s cheeks flushed — a pretty pink that crept up to the tips of his ears — and something warm unfurled in your chest. you reached for him, wanting to touch, wanting to wrap your hand around him and feel the weight of him, but he caught your wrist again, gentle but firm.

“i told you,” satoru said, lowering himself over you, his forearms bracketing your head, his hips settling between your thighs. “tonight’s about you.”

you could feel him then — the heat of him, the press of his cock against your inner thigh, so close to where you were still slick and sensitive from before.

your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking friction, and he let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours.

“so impatient,” he murmured, but there was no teasing in it, just wonder. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

satoru shifted his hips, and then he was there — the head of his cock sliding against your wet folds, nudging against your sensitive clit before dragging back down, coating himself in the wetness that was still there from when he’d had his mouth on you, and the sensation made you gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“satoru—”

“i know,” he breathed. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.”

he did it again; a slow roll of his hips that had his cock sliding against your entrance, but not entering, just teasing, just feeling. the friction was maddening, the heat of him searing against your most sensitive parts, and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you.

“please,” you gasped. “please, satoru, i need—”

“what do you need?” satoru’s voice was strained, his jaw tight, and you could see the effort it was taking him to hold back; his arms were trembling on either side of you, his abs tense, every line of his body drawn taut. “tell me.”

“you,” you said, and your voice cracked. “toru, i need you inside me. please.”

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a shudder running through him, and when he opened them again, they were dark, pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left.

“yeah?” he reached down between you, his hand wrapping around his cock, and the sight of him — the way his fingers didn’t quite close around the girth of him, the way his knuckles brushed against your wetness — made your thighs tremble. “you want this? want me to fill you up?”

“yes. god—yes.”

satoru guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you, and for a moment he just stayed there, not pushing in, just letting you feel the stretch of him. you were already so wet, already so ready, but he was so big that even the pressure of him made you gasp.

“breathe,” he whispered, and then he was pushing in.

slowly. oh, so slowly you could feel every inch of him; the way your body had to open up to take him, the way he had to pause halfway to let you adjust. his jaw was clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and you could feel him shaking again with the effort of not just slamming into you.

“f-fuck,” satoru gritted out. “fuck, you’re so tight. you feel—” his voice broke, and he pressed his forehead against yours again, his breath coming in ragged pants. “you feel so good. so fucking good.”

he kept going, inch by inch, until finally — finally — his hips were flush against yours, and you were full, so full you could barely breathe, could barely think. satoru was buried inside you to the hilt, and the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he was stretching you so perfectly made your eyes water.

“okay?” he asked, and his voice was wrecked. “are you okay?”

you couldn’t speak properly, so you simply nodded, your hands sliding up into his soft white hair, pulling him down until your foreheads were touching.

“move,” you whispered. “please move.”

satoru pulled back slowly, the drag of him against your walls making you whimper, and then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deliberate; the rhythm he set was unhurried, almost lazy, his hips rolling against yours in a way that made every nerve in your body light up.

“look at me,” he said, and you did, your eyes meeting his.

satoru’s face was flushed, his lips parted, his hair falling into his eyes; he looked so beautiful like this, undone, all his carefully constructed walls stripped away.

“i want to see your face when i make you cum.”

his pace picked up, just slightly, each thrust pressing him deeper inside you, harder, until you could literally feel him in your throat. satoru’s hands slid under your hips, tilting you up, changing the angle, and when he hit that sweet little spot inside you — that spot that made your vision go white — you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“there?” he asked, and there was a desperate edge to his voice. “is that the spot, baby?”

you couldn’t answer, hell, you couldn’t do anything but cling to him as he drove deep into you, each thrust hitting that same spot over and over again. satoru was kissing you everywhere now — your mouth, your jaw, your throat — his lips and teeth leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. “so fucking beautiful. i can’t believe—” he thrust harder, and you moaned, your back arching off the bed. “i can’t believe i almost lost this. almost lost you.”

his mouth found your collarbone, your shoulder, your breast; satoru took your nipple into his hungry mouth, sucking hard, and the combination of that and the way he was deeply fucking you made you sob.

“satoru—satoru, i’m close—”

“i know,” he said, and he sounded drunk, drugged, his words slurring against your skin. “i can feel you, baby. you’re squeezing me so tight. fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

satoru reached down between you, his thumb finding your clit, and the touch, even through the overstimulation from earlier, sent a jolt through you so intense that you nearly screamed.

“cum for me,” he said, his voice breaking. “cum on my cock. let me feel it.”

satoru pressed down on your clit in slow, tight little circles, matching the rhythm of his hips, and the pressure built and built and built until—

you completely shattered.

your orgasm ripped through you like a wave, your body arching off the bed, your walls clenching around him so hard that he groaned, his hips stuttering against yours.

“fuck—fuck, i’m—”

satoru came with a broken cry, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, his hips grinding into you as he emptied himself inside you, hot and thick. you could feel it — the pulse of him, the warmth of him filling you up, and the sensation was so intense, so intimate, that you felt tears slip down your cheeks.

for a moment, neither of you moved.

his weight was heavy on top of you, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid to let go; you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, or maybe it was yours, or maybe it was both of you, tangled together and beating as one.

“toru,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair.

he lifted his head slowly, his eyes dazed, his lips red and swollen; he looked wrecked, completely undone, and when he saw your tears, his expression crumpled.

“hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “hey, what’s wrong? did i—”

you shook your head, pulling him down until your foreheads were touching again.

“nothing’s wrong. i just—” you laughed, the sound watery. “i love you. i’ve loved you for so long.”

satoru’s breath caught, and then he was kissing you again, soft and slow, his lips moving against yours like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

“i love you too,” he said when he finally pulled back. “i love you so much it scares me.”

you smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

satoru pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the spot just below your ear.

“i love you,” he said again, like he was testing the words, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to say them. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

you could feel him still inside you, softening but not fully, and when he shifted his weight, you winced —nsensitive, so sensitive, every nerve in your body still humming.

but satoru didn’t pull out.

instead, he lowered himself onto his elbows, his face hovering above yours, and started moving again; slow, shallow thrusts, barely pulling out before pressing back in, and the drag of him against your overstimulated walls made you gasp.

“satoru,” you whimpered, your hands pushing weakly at his chest. “i can’t—i’m too—”

“shh,” he murmured, and there was a wildness in his eyes, something desperate and hungry. “you can. you can take it. you’re doing so well, baby. so good for me.”

his hips kept moving, that same slow, torturous rhythm, and you could feel yourself growing wetter around him again, your body betraying you, responding to him even when you thought you had nothing left to give.

“i’m not done with you,” satoru said, and his voice was low, reverent. “i told you. all night.”

his hand slid down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again, and you actually sobbed, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.

“you feel that?” satoru asked, his thumb circling, his hips grinding. “you feel how wet you are? you’re dripping, baby. you’re dripping all over my cock.”

and you were. you could feel it, the mix of his cum and yours sliding down your thighs, soaking into the sheets beneath you; the filth of it, the intimacy of it, made your face burn, but you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t do anything but cling to him as he fucked you slow and deep.

“i want to feel you cum again,” he said, and his voice was shaking. “i want to feel you squeeze me again. can you do that for me? can you give me one more?”

you shook your head without even thinking, but satoru just give you that soft, devastating smile.

“you can,” the boy said. “i know you can. you’re so good for me. my good girl.”

the praise washed over you, warm and intoxicating, and you felt something loosen in your chest; your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and satoru groaned, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before picking back up.

“that’s it,” he breathed. “that’s my girl. take it. take all of me.”

satoru was moving faster now, his hips snapping against yours, his thumb still working your oversensitive clit in tight, focused circles, and the pleasure was building again, sharp and bright, and you could feel yourself climbing toward something that felt almost too big to contain.

“satoru—i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he said, and his voice was wrecked, desperate. “cum for me. cum again. let me feel you.”

you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him, your nails raking down his back; satoru followed you a moment later, his hips stuttering, his mouth finding your shoulder to muffle the sound of his own groan as he spilled inside you again, adding to the mess, to the heat, to the overwhelming fullness that had you trembling beneath him.

he collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his face buried in your neck. you could feel his pulse racing against yours, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and for a long moment, neither of you moved.

finally, satoru lifted his head.

his face was flushed, his hair a complete disaster, his lips parted and kiss-swollen; he looked like he’d been thoroughly ruined, and the sight of him made your chest ache.

“i love you,” he whispered again.

he smiled; that soft, real smile that you were starting to think was made only for you, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“this is just the beginning,” satoru said, his voice rough but warm. “i’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

it's spoken with such finality that not even gojo can think of a retort back, pulling a sour face before sliding off the mahogany desk and into the velvet chair across from nanami instead. the taller man just blinks, lets out a frustrated sigh, then resumes his fervent typing on the computer. it only hits gojo now how unnaturally dark the office is, every curtain pulled shut with only peeks of sunlight shining through the miniscule blinds of the office window.

gojo takes the silence as an opportunity to get a proper look at his friend - nanami's face looks more sunken in then usual. his skin color a bit pale, perhaps from the lack of sunlight, the frown on his lips permanent as he re-highlights something on a case bundle. his blazer has been messily disregarded on a sofa nearby alongside his briefcase, where a bento box sits untouched. the cuffs of nanami's white shirt have been rolled up to around his elbows, his tie loosely hanging from his neck (and gojo watches as every few seconds nanami scowls and readjusts his tie, mumbling that the fabric is itchy). his usually perfectly styled blonde curls are sticking out in odd directions, and the office trash can sitting nearby has an array of gum wrappers and take out coffee cups piling up.

gojo lets out a slow breath - yikes. this is worse than i thought.

"you sure about the coffee?" he gestures, pointing vaguely to the steaming flat white still next to nanami. the blonde doesn't even flinch.

"yes. i only drink green tea after 3pm, christ's sake." nanami grumbles, testing even gojo's patience.

"well how the fuck was i supposed to know that?" gojo asks sarcastically, crossing one leg over another. something momentarily shifts in nanami's eyes, before his eyebrows furrow in focus on the document in front of him.

"(y/n) would know."

it's mumbled like a whisper, like a petulant admission of a toddler being denied time to play. gojo thinks back to the voice memo you sent him this morning, promising to bring him back pastries from new york on your way back.

it all clicks for gojo.

a part of him wants to laugh at his friend for how immature nanami's being, for allowing a momentary absence of you to color his decision making and personality at work. but another part of gojo finds it... deeply amusing.

especially when he thinks back to how much he had to nag nanami to finally cave in and ask you out all those years ago, instead of always spending 30 minutes more than necessary at the gym to try and catch a glimpse of you before work.

"i see... all this attitude at work because your wife is halfway across the world for a month?"

that catches nanami's attention, the man's hands dropping down onto his lap as a deep scarlet flush spreads through his cheeks.

"it's not that simple."

the smirk on gojo's face only gets wider.

"mmmm, i think it is just that simple. you were completely fine before she had to fly off-" gojo makes it a point to flex his wrist to stare at his rolex watch. "five hours ago. and you're already withering, loverboy. slowly declining in physical and mental health."

"i'm a fully grown adult. i'm fine." nanami says through gritted teeth, but it has no effect on gojo who is thoroughly enjoying (a) getting to be right and (b) teasing his best friend for being a hopeless romantic. to dig it in, gojo raises his eyebrows and puts on a pouty expression.

"are you sure, pookie? you don't want me to call her right now and tell her it's an emergency, that she needs to fly back to tokyo this instant?" gojo flashes his phone screen, where your contact is open under 'the better nanami'.

nanami practically lunges across the desk to try and get the phone out of gojo's hands, which gojo manages to dodge at the last second by jumping out of his seat. gojo's laughing so hard he doubles over, chest folded to his knees, and nanami's scowl only deepens.

"haha." nanami laughs along drily, clearly not amused. "anyways, it's a really important trip for her, so i don't want to be a bother. now get out, i have a meeting in 5 minutes."

it was going to be a long month without you.

DAY 4

the tension in the office is palpable, given what's at stake.

geto's been working backbreaking hours for the past month straight to pull the proposal together: an ambitious joint venture to combine the legal banking practice of nanami enterprises with the financial expertise of Japan's second biggest bank. everything had to be perfect. audits were rechecked, investment proposals rewritten, every piece of competition law finely tuned and picked over by the entire banking law team.

and nanami's fumbling during the investor pitch meeting.

it starts out small - like mispronouncing the head of the bank's name, which geto subtly corrects (by shaking the man's hand right after and saying it out loud correctly). losing track of where the specific sections of the agreement are. forgetting to bring a pen to the meeting, with shoko having to slide nanami one under the table and shooting geto a worried look.

'is he okay?' her glance seemed to read, to which geto shrugs in response.

truth be told, geto has no idea what's going on with his boss slash friend. he's worked for nanami for three years, and has never seen the blonde be anything less than textbook professional. every detail perfected, suit immaculately pressed, posture straight and elegant.

and now, the man in front of him still has the 'look' of a professional lawyer... but none of the attitude. instead, nanami looks uncomfortable in his expensive suit, adjusting his posture every few minutes and staring off into the vague distance during pitch decks. geto has to call nanami's name three times before the blonde realizes it's his turn to speak to the investors, and it takes every bone in geto's body to suppress a sigh.

"and so if we proceed as planned, i believe we could acquire the high street banks in this area for 4.7 million-"

"sorry for interrupting, but we were told that the valuation was 47 million. not 4.7." one of the investors cuts nanami off, a deepening frown on his face.

nanami's head whipped around to shoko, who nervously adjusts her blazer and adds that the correct figure should be 47 million as well. geto wordlessly slides open the bundle of documents to double check the accounts, then at nanami's pitch deck, and realizes that nanami has somehow managed to delete a zero.

fuck.

maintaining a poker face as nanami lets out a polite apology to the board, geto thumbs through the rest of the presentation whilst cross referencing with the financial accounts. all the figures are off by one zero in nanami's proposal, as if he didn't catch onto some malfunctioning code in his excel sheet.

the fear that runs up geto's spine is like nothing he ever felt before, and geto has to send a discreet text to gojo about the situation.

geto: "nanami somehow messed up all the figures for today's meeting with the investors. all figures are off by one zero."

gojo: "holy shit!"

gojo: "what do we do?"

geto looks at the blinking white screen, then at nanami's flushed face and the investors' clearly unamused expressions, before making a decision for the team.

geto: "idk, fire alarm?"

he's half joking but also half relieved when the fire alarm rings out across the building, and geto smoothly apologises to the investors for the sudden interruption and promises a prompt rescheduling of the meeting.

and the moment they're both outside, geto pulls nanami aware from the crowd of employees gathering outside the building and into a back alleyway that smells that smoke and grilled meat.

"jesus christ, nanami. what happened?" geto swears out loud, heart still pounding with adrenaline and anger.

nanami fists his hair in response, anxious legs pacing back and forth, before he stops and stares at gojo with the sorriest expression he can muster.

"god, i'm so sorry. i know you've been working on this merger for weeks now."

geto's jaw clenches, but it's hard to stay angry when he sees the pained look on nanami's face. the blonde stops pacing and sits down on a nearby bench, head in his hands, and geto feels his anger dissipate into thin air.

"what's going on, kento?" geto's voice drops into a concerned hum, sitting down carefully next to nanami. nanami's fingers brush through his now messy hair, wedding band catching the glint of the sunlight every few seconds, an anxious habit of his.

"i... i just can't seem to concentrate. o-on anything, lately." he admits, sighing. geto raises his eyebrows.

"any particular reason? this isn't like you, and i'm worried."

he places a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing in appreciation to make his support known. he watches as nanami's eyes flicker up to geto's very cautiously, as if debating with himself on whether to say something.

"i miss my wife."

the admission is soft, tender in the way its spoken but firm in the way nanami's face pulls together in tight pain and desperate longing. geto's worry melts away into something more fond, and nanami lets out an empty laugh.

"it's pathetic, i know. she's only been gone for a few days. but damn it, i-i can't sleep, i can't eat properly, i keep misplacing everything in my office-"

"why don't you call her?" geto gently suggests and nanami retracts.

"i don't want to bother her."

geto rolls his eyes playfully, nudging the blonde's shoulder.

"she's your wife. she signed up to being bothered by you for a lifetime."

"it's also a 13 hour time difference between tokyo and new york." nanami weakly reasons, but geto just whips out his phone and presses your number. "hey, what're yo-"

"geto?" your groggy voice rings out from the other side, and a flush of warmth spreads through nanami's body. your voice. he'd almost forgotten what your voice sounded like (he definitely hadn't, but it sure as hell felt like it) - gentle, warm, sweet like daisies in the summer rain. "is everything alright?"

"just peachy. oh, actually, i forgot something- nanami, you don't mind taking over for me do you?" geto expertly lies, passing off the phone to nanami too quickly for any attempts of escape.

"ken?" you mutter from the other side, slightly more awake. nanami cringes internally - knowing that it's 1am there - but can't help his shoulders from melting at the sound of your voice.

"my love. sorry, did we wake you?"

"it's alright. still having trouble adjusting to the timezone here anyways." you yawn on the other side, and he can practically envision your sleepy expression and the glow of your phone illuminating your face. better than any artwork, he believes. "how are you, babe?"

"tired - today was the day of the investor meeting for the merger."

"oh shit, really? how'd it go?"

nanami opens his mouth to answer, as suddenly the crowd of employees are directed to re-enter the building by a grinning gojo and a smug geto who winks at him from afar, forcing nanami to reconsider his answer on the spot.

"had to reschedule. fire alarm went off."

"the fire alarm?"

he can hear the panic in your voice and kicks himself for making you worry.

"false alarm, love. gojo's telling everyone right now that it's safe to re-enter the building."

"oh, that's good. i'm relieved, i don't want anyone to get hurt."

"i know, darling. promise everyone's fine and taken care of."

you hum on the other side, and he can hear you shifting in bed.

"even yourself?"

"hm?"

you giggle on the other side of the line, and nanami wishes he could record that sound to relive it during the day.

"yourself, ken. are you taking care of yourself?"

he straightens up at your question, embarrassed.

"of course i am. w-why wouldn't i be?"

"a little birdie told me my husband was missing me a bit too much."

"damn it, gojo." nanami covers the phone and swears, cursing his friend for ratting him out.

"and i told the birdie that there was no such thing as missing one's wife too much." you add fondly and nanami sighs into the receiver, before pulling away from the phone and noticing geto's phone is at 5%.

"geto's phone is at 5%, so i think i'll have to get going." nanami pauses, wanting to savour your voice one last time. "i miss you a lot, darling. but i'm so proud of you and all you're doing in new york right now. love you."

"love you so much, kenny. good night."

it physically pains nanami to have to end the call and give back the phone to geto, but he's glad he's managed to speak to you (even for a few minutes). geto smiles up at him, smug and satisfied.

"so? was i right or was i right?"

nanami sheepishly shrugs.

"...thank you, geto. i needed that."

"don't worry bout it. and hey, leave the pitch decks to me - go home early and sleep it off, alright? you still got 25 days to go till she's back."

the number sits heavy in nanami's heart - 25 days - as he tries to muster up a brave smile.

DAY 7

it's a sunday.

it would usually be his favorite day, a day reserved for just him and you: his beautiful wife who rises with the sunlight and smells like cinnamon and vanilla by the time he's brewing coffee in the kitchen. but today, when he reluctantly opens his eyes in bed, the spot next to him is empty. and the pillows don't smell like your shampoo anymore.

worst of all, when he pads out to the kitchen, there's no one to hum pop songs and flip pancakes with.

nanami barely registers the bitter black coffee on his tongue as he flicks over the morning newspaper, the information flying by his eyes with no real comprehension. he can feel a slight headache coming on from staring at his phone too late until 3am last night, rewatching videos of you on the honeymoon until exhaustion won over him.

god, is this how people who have military husbands feel like, he wonders? he just feels... beyond awful. like his whole soul has been sucked dry, the dull ache in his heart only worsening when he'd go to the bathroom and see your perfumes lining the counter, or open the fridge to see your favorite jam sitting untouched on the top shelf. the room is quiet save for the humming of the fridge and his breathing, and suddenly the space feeels far too empty.

the silence doesn't last very long when someone then knocks in rapid succession on the front door, followed by an obnoxious voice.

"NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIII IT IS ME, YOUR LOVERRRRRR-"

"shut the fuck up, gojo, it's 9am on a sunday." geto growls from next to him, as shoko chuckles.

"we brought food from the diner you like." shoko offers from the other side of the door, not knowing whether nanami will actually invite them in. a few awkward seconds pass before the door opens, and nanami's unimpressed face greets the three of them.

"we know you've been really down in the dumps for missing (y/n)-" gojo starts, and nanami's cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"i have not-" he starts, but shoko and geto roll their eyes in perfect sync.

"yes you have." all three of them respond simultaneously.

"i think it's cute." shoko offers, and gojo snickers from next to her.

"well, whatever it is, we're NOT letting you mope around in your apartment on such a nice sunday. so we've-"

"you have." shoko corrects, shaking her head sideways. "it was gojo's idea."

"excuse me, it's a team effort because you two eventually caved. anyways, we've planned out a whole fun day to help you distract yourself from your wife's absence!"

"i don't have a choice, do i?" nanami lamely responds as gojo barrels into the apartment past him, not even asking for permission to enter. geto nods in amusement and follows suit, and shoko offers him a half shrug and a small smile.

nanami pinches the gap between his eyebrows with his left hand, massaging the headache starting to form, but can't deny that it's nice to hear laughter and something other than his own thoughts in his apartment.

"fine. just- GOJO DON'T EAT ON THE COUCH!"

true to gojo fashion, nanami learns, the day is packed with an array of activities that stands in stark contrast to the usual slow and domestic day he'd have with you.

after a lavish breakfast (with gojo having ungodly amounts of sugar), gojo insisted on renting two seater bikes and looping around the park. then it was lunch at a soba place, a few hours at an arcade, browsing a bookstore, and then dinner with a movie at gojo's place.

"are you having fun?" shoko had asked quietly at the arcade, as geto and gojo argued over who had the higher score. "don't worry, i won't tell gojo."

nanami had let out a small sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets but couldn't help but hide his smile. it was the most relaxed he'd felt the whole week, and he hadn't felt the need to obsessively check his phone for any updates from you.

"yeah. i think... i really needed this. thank you."

shoko winked.

"you're welcome. we're always here for you, you know that right?"

now it's nearing 11pm and gojo excitedly presses stop play on geto's pick for the night - pulp fiction. geto complains, throwing up his hands, only for gojo to wave his protests off.

"hey, you won the rock paper scissors and picked the first movie! now that we sat through that, we have to sit through my favorite movie."

"god, not 'frozen' again." shoko groans into her hands, and gojo gasps in mock horror.

"it's not! we're actually going to watch 'love actually'."

nanami sits up straighter at the mention of the film. no one noticed the way nanami's face morphs momentarily into one of pain and fondness, geto being too busy arguing with gojo about the semantics of choosing the next film and shoko inspecting the popcorn bucket in her hands. but nanami's heart continues to throb with pain.

"back me up, nanami. it's a good movie, right? you've seen it before?" gojo shouts from across the room, flicking the lights off again. nanami wills himself to stay rock solid, forcing his head to nod in agreement.

"y-yeah. i've seen it. it's good."

it was more than good, in truth.

it was the film that he'd taken you to see as the first date. a local cinema, a shared bucket of popcorn, the sudden rain he had to shield you from with his coat.

alcohol.

nanami needs alcohol to get through this movie.

"gojo, do you have any alcohol in your fridge?"

gojo smirks.

"oh shit, is it a drinking night today? yeah, i got a bit of everything- let me know what you want."

and that is how nanami ends up squished between a bored geto and a mildly amused shoko, nursing his third bottle of beer for the night. the movie sounds muted, as if the actors are speaking under the water, as the memories of the date come rushing at him in full force.

"did you like it?" you'd carefully asked, blinking your eyes in the cinema foyer in an attempt to readjust to the bright lighting. the nearly empty popcorn bucket was hugged hazardously under your right arm, and nanami carefully removed it from your arm before binning it. he wanted to slide his own arm in between the gap, but wanted to respect your space, instead settling with walking side by side with you to the exit.

"of course, it's a classic."

you'd laughed, and it warmed his entire body: melodic, loud, just the right amount of you.

"what is it?" he'd asked, bumping his shoulder with yours. you'd shaken your head sideways, muffling your giggles with your hand.

"nothing, nothing. just the thought of nanami kento, heir and ceo of nanami enterprises, the biggest law firm in Japan.... being a secret rom com lover is a bit funny." you'd smiled at him so blindly, his heart skipped a beat. "guess there's a lot more to learn about you, kenny."

he'd smiled back just as bright.

"i guess there is."

as if on cue, thunder had roared and rain started pelting from the black inky sky. people dodged into nearby stores, dog walkers cursed under their breath, and cars started flipping on their windshield wipers.

"fuck, it didn't say it was going to rain today. did you bring an umbrella?" you'd asked as you opened the door, shielding yourself from the rain by standing under the cinema's roof. nanami's warm body had joined yours a few seconds later, his left hand hovering a few inches from yours.

"no. guessing you got here by train?"

"that's correct. but the station's a ten minute walk from here." you'd sighed, shrugging off your jacket when nanami's calloused hand gently stopped you.

"what're you doing?"

"taking off my jacket so i can shield myself from the rain?" you'd blinked up at him, so adorable and clueless. it was a slightly chilly april day, but he wasted no time in shrugging off his own coat and gently draping it over your head.

"your jacket's too pretty to get wet, sweetheart. use mine instead."

you looked so shy, so unsure of yourself, when your smaller fingers curled themselves around his coat. he'd let you have his coat forever, he decided, if you were to ask.

"but... but then your coat will get wet."

"better that then you."

and he meant it.

and he held your hand whilst the two of you ran through the empty streets, the wet cement illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlamps and the occasional headlights of the cars passing by. both of you were soaking wet by the time you and nanami were standing on the steps of the station, heart pounding and big smiles on your face.

"that was-"

"crazy." he'd finished for you.

"actually, i was gonna say the best day i've ever had." you'd said softly, and his heart thundered louder than the thunderstorm up ahead.

and he'd kissed you then and there.

"nanami, what'd you- oh my god are you okay?"

shoko's concerned voice shakes him out of the memory, and the feeling of something wet sliding down his face registers. the movie's suddenly been paused, and geto kicks gojo under the table for "making nanami cry."

was he really crying? nanami's hand comes up to brush against his cold cheeks, and it confirms to himself that he is crying.

a lot.

"god, i miss her so much." is all nanami can say, the effects of his fifth bottle of beer mixing with his dangerously suppressed emotions of missing you. shoko frowns and geto lightly pats nanami's shoulder, whilst gojo begins to panic.

"shit, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have picked a rom com. uhhh what do you wanna watch instead? howl's moving castle? mission impossible? shrek-"

"not. helping." geto dryly gets out, throwing the white haired man a deadly glare. nanami crumbles like a piece of paper, crying into his hands as he folds over himself, and shoko's hands start rubbing warm soothing circles on his back. she shifts her eyes to the side at geto, gesturing at him to get gojo out of the way, as she attempts to reign in nanami's tears.

"hey, it's gonna be okay. she'll be back in no time."

"no she's not. she's gone for another 3 weeks." nanami complains into his hands, drunk and crying. shoko suppresses a sigh, gently tapping his shoulder.

"i think you're feeling a little off because of all the alcohol and the lack of sleep, yeah? you'll feel much better when you wake up, okay? let's get you to bed."

it's a struggle to get the blonde to fall asleep, given that he refuses to go back to his house - saying it reminds him too much of you - but also as nanami is far taller and heavier than shoko. she struggles to prop him upright as gojo directs them to the guest room, and it takes both geto and gojo's help to gently lay the blonde giant onto the mattress and under the covers.

the moment the door closes behind them, shoko presses herself against the door and slides down onto the floor, exhausted.

"jesus. that man is whipped."

DAY 10

nanami absolutely cannot do this.

the lingering pain of missing your warm body next to him in bed, of seeing your shadows in the corner of his eye every time he walks into the office and passes the sofa where you like to lounge whilst reading files, of obsessively re-organising everything in his office to suppress the memory of you laughing every morning... has bled into a full blown illness.

hence why he's currently locked himself in his office, the blinds drawn completely tight to coat him in darkness, his blazer draped over his shoulders as a makeshift blanket whilst he stares blankly at the computer screen. his head's swimming with equations and dates that don't make any sense, and when his assistant came in half an hour ago to ask for his signature on a set of documents, he'd just grunted in response and honestly, isn't even sure if he'd signed the correct blank spaces before dismissing her.

his limbs feel like heavy weights and his head aches. there's no point to anything, he mopes. no point in answering to emails when you're not there to remind him to fix his posture mid-type. no point in heating up his lunch when it's not one of your meticulously cooked bento boxes, the rice shaped into a heart. no point in dressing properly with cufflinks and a tie and a blazer if you're not there to kiss his forehead, mumbling about how nice the color of his tie looks-

"sir, there's someone here to see you." his assistant's voice rings out from the other side of the door, and it sounds... smug, oddly.

nanami can't bring it in himself to care, dropping his head onto the wooden oak desk and staring at the floor. maybe if he doesn't respond, they'll go away, a childish part of him reasons. but as if sensing his immature response, his assistant just chuckles from the other side.

"i know you're in there, sir. i was just in there thirty minutes ago."

"i don't feel too well, irene. please ask them to come back another time." he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. god, he just wanted to be in your embrace.

a second of silence passes before he hears the door being swung open, illuminating the room with light from the hallway.

"i'm hurt, ken."

no fucking way.

nanami stands up so quickly that his chair tips over, his wild eyes scanning the dark room before landing on your amused smile. you - the actual you, his darling wife - is standing in his office. in a checkered blazer and dress pants accentuating every dip and curve, smelling like roses and sunshine.

he stares, slack jawed, convinced he's gone insane. you aren't supposed to be back in tokyo for another 20 or so days.

he slowly rounds the corner of his desk, walking towards you carefully as your smile only widens.

"thought you'd be excited to see m-"

the rest of your sentence is swallowed by nanami's lips on yours, his hands immediately finding their place on the small of your back to pull you in closer. he kisses you with so much force and fervor that you're practically pushed against the nearest object - his desk - and the mahogany edge bites into your skin as he pushes you further against it, breaking the kiss only for a second to regain his breath before he's gripping you tightly and kissing you all over again. you taste like your cherry chapstick and nanami can't get enough of it, left hand traveling down to squeeze your waist-

"jesus fucking christ, nanami." geto grumbles from the entryway, as gojo covers geto's eyes with a spare folder. it's only then that nanami pulls away from you, cheeks bright red as he attempts to hide himself by tucking his head under the crook of your shoulder.

it also allows him to smell your perfume much better, and enjoy how your chest rumbles with laughter at geto's horrified expression.

"should get you two charged for public indecency." gojo teases, and nanami looks back up at your smiling figure, the confusion now settling in properly.

"wait, how'd you- why- when-"

"gojo called me." you grab nanami's left hand, tracing circles onto his skin and toying with his wedding band. "said you missed me so much it was driving everyone crazy."

nanami blinks at that comment.

"what?"

"apparently someone's been missing me so much they've been snappy at work, mixing up important numbers, and drunkenly crying over 'love actually'."

the murderous look nanami sends at gojo and geto is enough for the men to avert their eyes elsewhere, pretending to stare at a non existent spot on the floor, as your laughter only grows louder.

"it's alright, nami. i thought it was... sweet."

"disgustingly sweet, might i add." shoko pops her head into the office then, waving at you in greeting. "never seen a man deteriorate so fast from his wife being gone for just a week."

"don't you three have work to do? a lot of work, might i add?" nanami weakly adds, practically pleading with his eyes to be left alone with you. his three friends just laugh, before agreeing to give you two space: geto chuckles under his breath, shoko shakes her head sideways in amusement, and gojo winks and obnoxiously yells out that you owe him at least 3 kg worth of pastries from new york.

then the door is slammed shut, leaving him and his wife in silence once more.

"i can't believe you're here." he admits in the dark, not wanting to let go of you yet. his large arms come to wrap around your shoulder as he sits down onto a nearby chair, pulling you onto his lap. when you complain about the lack of lighting he flicks on a button that makes the curtains pull open automatically, and nanami swears there is no more beautiful sight in the world than the way your face is illuminated when the sunlight hits it. "what about your work?"

you sigh contently in his lap, letting your head roll onto his shoulder. you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed nanami's touch, his scent, his everything as well.

"said it was a family emergency and i was needed back in tokyo urgently. i'm sure the associates are equipped enough to handle the case whilst i'm gone." you sit up slightly and caress his jaw. "i'm sorry i couldn't come earlier, ken."

he quiets your comments with a light kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"doesn't matter. you're here now."

"that i am, you soft baby." you joke, poking him in the chest. but all he does is nuzzle into your touch.

"soft for you, darling. thought i was going crazy without you here. i'm not letting you go again, ever." he pouts like a child, and you laugh.

"ever?"

he shakes his head sideways.

"ever."

you raise your eyebrows.

"you know i'll be called overseas more than once, right?"

"doesn't matter. i'm coming with you then." he says it with such simplicity and finality.

"what? you can't do that, you- you're basically the boss of this place." you chuckle, patting his head lovingly.

"then i'll let gojo be interim CEO whilst i'm gone. or sell the company. or fake my own death and come with you to wherever you need to go."

he's joking, of course. but the tenderness in his gaze is real and it squeezes your heart with so much love you can't help but kiss the man silly all over again.

"i love you so much, you know that?"

"impossible." his eyes crinkle when he smiles, unabashed and unrestrained. "i love you more."

you're finally home.

and so is he.

a/n: ahhhhh i got this idea randomly whilst procrastinating on my japanese hw and it came out in like 3 hours! not sure if i'm happy with how it turned out but i love the idea too much not to post,,, sorry for the slight hiatus in posting, my entire life has been consumed by the fbi section chief/hotch!coded nanami fic i've been talking about on my blog for the past 2 weeks (did someone say multi part series??!!!) anyways. hope this came out somewhat okay and was fun to read! i especially love writing the dialogue for this fic because it's very chaotic and funny. alright love you all ty for reading this far if you did ~\(≧▽≦)/~

Yuji stops at the foot of the bed, unzips his pants, and hovers over you.

He hikes up the hem of the shirt to check if you’re wearing any underwear. When your bare cunt greets him, his brows lift. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he pushes the fabric higher, all the way up to your tits. No bra. Nothing.

His gaze flicks to your face, watching you closely.

Your boyfriend drags his fingers over your skin until they find your nipple, trapping it gently between his fingers. He pinches lightly, earning a soft exhale from you. Still, you don’t stir and clearly deep asleep.

A tired smirk tugs at his lips. You’re really giving him everything, and this is Yuji's wet dream come true.

He dips his head, and his mouth closes in around your nipple. His tongue flicks over it again and again, enough to make him hard. He expects a moan, but your breathing stays steady.

His kisses trail downward, from your chest to your stomach, until he’s level with your cunt.

Yuji carefully spreads your legs, taking in the sight of you. Exposed, vulnerable, and all for him. Only for him. His hands move soothingly along your thighs before he presses a soft kiss to your knee.

Then he steps off the bed and kneels in front of you, pooling spit in his mouth before letting it spill slowly onto your cunt. He watches it trail down, coating you, making his cock twitch.

He presses his tongue to your clit, then sucks gently. He laps at you hungrily, making you wetter than you already are.

You squirm against his mouth, but he grabs your hips, holding you in place as he pulls you closer. His low groans are muffled against you as he devours you, slipping one finger inside. Then another.

“Need you nice and stretched out,” he mutters as he pushes in a third finger. “Wanna make sure you can take all of me.”

You’re suddenly a moaning mess beneath his curling fingers. He pumps them at a perfect pace while his tongue abuses your clit. All you can manage are soft whimpers as your orgasm washes over you.

He chuckles darkly, licking your slick from his fingers.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You taste so good.”

Yuji shifts again, lining his cock up with your entrance. He drags the tip over your folds, smearing his precum all over your pussy. When he can’t edge himself any longer, he slowly pushes inside and earns the softest moan from you.

You weren't sure if it's real or still a dream, but you feel his fat cock stretching you out. It's the kind of pain and pleasure that makes you want more.

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, sweat trickling down his forehead. “Letting me toy with your body– shit.”

Once he’s fully bottomed out, he dips his head into the crook of your neck. Something in him decides that locking you in a mating press is a great idea, so he adjusts himself in a way that lets him bury himself deeper.

“…Yuji?” you murmur.

He's always liked how his name rolls off your tongue. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.” he whispers, “It’s just me.”

Your eyes stay closed as you smile sleepily. “M’still sleepy.”

“I got you, baby.” He presses butterfly kisses to your cheek.

"You like it..?"

He smiles against your skin then whispers, “I love it. You’re amazing.”

With your warm breath fanning his neck, he starts thrusting harder, deeper, drawing soft shrieks from you.

“Haa—” you stir faintly. “S’too much.”

Your whimpers go ignored as his swollen cock pushes deeper, deliberate and relentless. Your back arches, walls clenching as he hits your sensitive spot again and again.

“You can do it, baby. I know you can,” he says, snapping his hips at the pace he knows you like. “I’m almost there.”

"...Baby?" You mumble.

"Mhm?"

Your breath hitches before you speak. "I–I love you."

"I love you too, baby." Yuji lets out a quiet chuckle, "Love how you're being a whore for me."

"Mhm." You hum. "Your whore."

He cups your jaw to pry your mouth open before spitting inside, which you immediately swallow.

"Thank– thank you."

Your head spins at his voice, though his words barely registering. You only remember hearing his grunts, his string of curses, and feeling everything.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He thrusts deeper. “That you’re my fucktoy.”

“Mm– Yes..." You gasp. "I'm your– ah– fucktoy."

"Wanna hear more, baby. C'mon."

"Yuji–!" He adjusts his hips just right, and you forget how to speak. "I'm your toy, I– shit, baby– love being your cum slut."

His cock hits your spot over and over, dragging you to the edge.

“I'm— gonna fuck a baby in you,” he grunts. “Say you want my cum.”

“Baby, we can't–”

“Say it.” He pounds harder, faster, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

You whine half-asleep and force the words out. “Want you to fuck it deeper… or— fuck— walk around our house with your cum dripping down my legs.”

At that, Yuji completely loses his mind. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

Your body convulses as your orgasm crashes over you. He holds you tight through it, riding out your high before spilling inside you.

“Don’t… pull out,” you whisper.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs against your skin while trying to steady his breathing. "But I have to clean you up."

Yuji pulls back slightly, studying your face like he’s trying to burn the moment into memory. He doesn’t want to forget how you look so beautiful fucked out and full of his cum.

You reach up and brush a thumb along his arm, urging him sleep beside you.

He chuckles lightly and presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll be quick.”

He slips out of bed and disappears down the hall.

When Yuji returns, he gently wipes you down with a warm towel, but your eyes are too heavy to stay open. When you crack one open to look at him, he nods softly and tells you to rest.