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Stand Alone(s) !
Jujutsu Kaisen
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Only One-Gojo Satoru
Princess-Gojo Satoru
MHA
Another Chance-katsuki bakugo
Scenarios/samu's !
Jujutsu Kaisen
all characters -
JJK men when you leave to hang out with friends!
JJK when they miss you texts
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Satoru Gojo -
when satoru is in love
bf texts
youāre very beautiful
satjo.04 liked your story
satoruās entries
for future me
Suguru Geto -
bf texts
taste it, feel it, love it
suguruās entries
Shoko Ieiri -
falling in love with shoko is slow
Toji Fushiguro -
toji is a bully
toji loves like a cat
Choso Kamo -
choso wants to break you
choso isnāt good with emotions
Kento Nanami -
curly hair reader HC
kentoās entries
Information !
Hi! My user is Lilacxoz, but my name is Eve <3 I enjoy watching gross old romance movies, beach walks, and my pet cat! Currently, I'm a Senior in Highschool. I have dedicated MOST of my page to my writing, but I'm slowly branching further than that!
Please do not repost anything of mine or translate anything and/or claim my work is yours. Minors DNI!
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synopsis : A miscarriage seems to break your marriage apart with Katsuki. From recommendation and pressure from friends, the two of you take a small vacation to try and rekindle what was once there.Ā
TW: angst, fluff, smut, oral sex(f! receving), petnames: baby, blood, descriptions of trauma, unprotected sex, make up sex.
wc: 10k (wow...)
an: This has been on the back burner for a while. I just wanted to write something angsty... anyways, please ignore any misspellings or errors, I just write the stories, not edit them...
Youāve fallen out of rhythm with yourself and others. While the scars stay and remind you of the life you currently live, the reality of it through long nights of phantom pains and tears, you canāt help but feel like youāve taken the backseat; handed the wheel to someone else.Ā
The second bedroom of the apartment remains pink with glow stars on the popcorn ceiling that gave way to scars on your husbands already beaten hands, a sacrifice for comfort of the child you failed to give a home to inside yourself.Ā
It felt like the biggest failure as a woman, unable to house the love you and your husband created with it, a small baby girl not yet done growing delivered too early in a pool of her own blood, or yours, you couldn't differentiate the two when it happened. Neither could Katsuki, a man unfamiliar with his own emotions tending to a broken mother having the title snatched right from her core.Ā
Since that night you hadnāt shared a single word with your husband, Katsuki. Heād surrounded himself with work, missions, anything to carry the burden of failing his wife away from the forefront of his brain because forgetting didnāt hurt as bad as remembering. Battling his own demons alongside it, he closed himself off, almost completely as if the ring on his finger was nothing but a fabricated lie.Ā
Four days after that night he heard a knock against the white heavy door to his office at his agency, nearly an hour away from the apartment, not far enough if you asked him. He didnāt recognize the heavy knock, yours were quieter, hesitant, and his assistants were louder, having caught him with his wife too many times to ignore his need for privacy. He looked up from his stack of files, watching two familiar men walk into the room like theyād done it every friday after patrols.Ā
āHey,ā the blonde one said, hands shoved into his jeans with a look to his face that battled something inside his mind. It almost resembled pity, which pissed Katsuki off because he didnāt need that shit. Especially now that heād failed his wife and child.Ā
āStill working?ā the other started with his wild red hair, someone from his past that heād counted on more times than he could count, and was never disappointed. His best friend, Kirishima. āItās a bit late for more paperwork?ā
Katsuki cleared his throat, realizing now that he hadnāt spoken a word since this morning to his assistant after she read him his schedule. āWas on patrol all day.ā
āYouāve been doing patrols by yourself for a few days now,ā Denki, the blonde one, started, āmaking budget cuts or something?ā
āFuck off,ā Katsuki growled, āI donāt need to because my heroes know exactly what the fuck to do.ā
āSo why are you working late?ā Kirishima prodded, eyes glimmering with something too familiar to him. This had happened once before, right before he proposed to the love of his life. Kirishima came as usual on a friday with Denki, poking and prodding at him all day until Katsuki eventually told them why heād buried himself in work. Feelings are hard for the pro hero, harder than life itself when it comes to his wife, but hers were something precious to him. But that didnāt mean he didnāt take them for granted sometimesā It happens.Ā
āBecause,ā Katsuki answered, quite vaguely as he shuffled a stack of papers to file later. āWhy does it even matter to you two?ā
Silence fills the space as Kirishima takes a seat at the lonely chair across his wooden desk, the same seat you'd occupy whenever you felt like annoying your head strong husband. Denki stands rooted to the floor, like whatever was about to happen wasnāt something he was fully on board with.Ā
āI called your wife yesterday,ā Kirishima starts, ripping the bandaid off quickly before his best friend can react, āIām really sorry for your lossā¦shes worried about you.ā
āYou think I don't know that?!ā Katsuki snaps, like a wire behind his eyes has snapped its connection to reasonability and gone straight to fight or flight. He slams the stack of papers on the desk and only Denki flinches, āYou think I don't know that my wife is probably suffering in silence without me because I can't even bring myself to look at her?! FUCK!ā
He wasnāt physically aggressive with his anger like he used to be in his teens. But there were moments when it seems that is his only vice, the only way to release whatever is melting his bones to his flesh, leaving him unsupported and helpless in his own body. His fist clashes with the wooden desk, leaving two knuckle sized dents and blood gushing from his skin.Ā
This wasnāt the life he chose when he was younger and wanted a life of lavish, using his quirk, making a name for himself. If he had to guess then that had to be why his wife, you, was the most sensitive topic of conversation for him. You came into his life by chance and heād be lying if he said he wasnāt afraid that chance would also be the thing that takes you away from him.Ā
Chance, his biggest fucking problem, the reason he found you on the bathroom floor, broken, a husk of the woman you once were. A miscarige is a chance, that's what the doctor said, and now he was paying the price for thinking he could ever escape those odds.Ā
āThat doesnāt mean you ignore your wife though.ā Denkiās words cut through the tension like a knife, taking a logical approach. āWomen feel more than men, it's like science or something. So imagine, if this is really getting you down like this, how must she be feeling?āĀ
āThank you Denki,ā Kirishima nods, thankful his hesitant friend is finally realizing how important this conversation really is to Katsuki. āIts always been the two of you Katsuki, you told me yourself. Whatās stopping you, or making you hesitant, to speak with her about it?ā
Heād never admit it, but shittyhair had a point. A very big one that he was finally starting to realize, cooling the molten rage and grief into something cold and hard inside his chest.Ā
With defeat, or grief, Katsuki slumps back in his chair, elbow on the arm of the chair, face in his hand. Heād grown a stubble there, unable to look at himself in the mirror since that night when heād truly thought heād failed you as a husband. As a father.Ā
Both men in front of him share a look before metal scratches against wood. Denki slides a key towards the exhausted blonde, hesitancy from before gone, leaving concern for his friend. āHere. I own a beach house on the southern tip of Haiti, bought it years ago and havenāt been for awhile-ā
āGet to the point.ā
ā-its yours. Well, you can use it. I wonāt be going anytime soon, not until I find myself the kind of love you have with her.ā Denki stands to his full height, shoving his hands back into his pockets. āI'd go. It's super chill, the locals make the best coconut cocktail youāll ever taste.āĀ
Katsuki stares at the key like it personally wronged him. He didnāt need a shitty vacation house to make him feel better, he did just fine at work. He liked going on patrols to clear his mind, when he sat on top of buildings and just sat with himself with nothing but the world below him. Isolation, the very thing he craved when he was a teen. Control, the demon he was starting to adopt when he met you.Ā
But why not both? Didnāt he have both with you?Ā
He closed a fist around the metal key, shoving it into his pocket. Heād forgotten how much he loves having both.Ā
-
You knew something was going to come when Katsuki unlocked the front door three hours before usual on a Friday night, and you hoped it was change.Ā
Four days spent in hospital after hospital, bloodwork, vitals, medication, pills, drugs. It became a part of you, the big fat failure sign burned into your womb. Emotions werenāt there, buried in the ground beneath your feet and you can't cradleĀ them. That morning youād started to notice the once built in condo belly your husband once teased was starting to deflate. Your body was finally accepting the fact you lost your baby, something your brain canāt even start to do.Ā
The door closes from the front entrance, sounding through the kitchen into the living room where you sit on the couch, fighting medical tape and a piece of cotton from a previous needle from rounds of bloodwork. You glance once footsteps get heavier, closer. He appears into view, hands busy with his tie, stance wide and you realize heās looking directly at you.Ā
āHey.ā
You lift your eyes, meeting the same ones owned by a man that held you four days ago like he was afraid youād disappear. Yesterday, you spoke with his best friend and knew heād put in a good word for you. āDidnāt think that actually worked.āĀ
āShut up..ā he murmurs, moving closer and taking his usual seat on the coffee table in front of you. You watch him tug the tie free, tossing it on the seat beside you. Itās the first glimpse of normalcy youāve seen in what feels like decades.Ā
His eyes tract the bandage on your arm, instinctively pulling closer to inspect why itās there. āHospital?āĀ
āA few,ā you supply softly, ābloodwork, monitoring, questioningā the whole nine yards.ā
He lifts his eyes, the closeness sparking a familiar warmth you hadnāt felt in awhile. āYou healthy?āĀ
āMhm.ā You shrug small but his expression has you feeling bad for the attempt at distance. āIām okay. Itās an oddly natural process, anatomy freaks me out.āĀ
He lets out a small snort, āthat would be physiology, dumbass.āĀ
āBoth,ā you canāt help but offer a small smile, āI hate both.āĀ
āNeed help with this?ā He asks, changing focus back to the horrificly sticky medical tape on your arm. āThey didnāt need to use such a big fucking piece either, damn near cutting off circulation-ā
āGo get the supplies,ā you offer, hoping to stop a sour mood from forming by protecting his good mood. āDownstairs bathroom.āĀ
It takes him less than two minutes before heās back to nursing the morbidly painful tape on your arm with oil and a cloth. A comfortable silence fills the space, one that you arenāt sure you want to pop. But no matter what you try to focus on you canāt get the elephant out of the room without addressing it.Ā
He beats you to it. āIām sorry I havenāt really been around lately. Iām a dick, I abandoned you when you needed me most-ā
āWhat the fuck?āĀ
He pauses, you do too but just a bit, and the room gets too crowded.Ā
āHuh?āĀ
āYou sound like a written script,ā the words punch out of you like they came from your stomach. āIs that how youāre able to face your wife after what happened?āĀ
āWhat the fuck are you talking about?āĀ
āLook at me!ā You point to the countless needle wounds on your arms from the blood work, the shots, the meds. Youāre a walking pharmacy and heās acting like the miscarriage is the only pain here. āIām full of holes from doctor's visits you didn't want to be a part of.āĀ
His hands pause on your arm, āI wanted to be apart of them-ā
āBut you werenāt.ā Your words have a finality to them that makes his shoulders slump. Keeping his eyes low, he works quietly on the medical tape stuck to your skin, leaving the words hanging in the air like a weight heavier than the loss of a premature baby.Ā
You didnāt know how he was handling it, didnāt know if he felt just as empty and useless as you. Since school where your relationship first bloomed, he had a hard time communicating his emotions. You thought youād worked on it enough through adulthood until marriage, but now youāre starting to see a set back. He wasnāt talking, not sharing his feelings like usual.Ā
It only made you feel worse. If you couldnāt be a good mother did that also mean you were a bad wife? The answer should be obvious, but right now it seems too complicated to make sense of.Ā
It didnāt take long before he massaged the tape off your arm, trashing it in the nearby bin. He cleaned up his mess, quietly without a word to you. Just when you think heās gone back to his cold, distance, he comes back and settles back on the coffee table in front of you, hands clasped between his legs.Ā
Thinking. Thatās all he was doing, you could see it in the slight furrow of his brow and the soft twitch at the corner of his lip. For a moment you start to wonder if this may be the start of a long, dreadful life full of waiting and eggshells.Ā
You watch him reach into his pocket and settle a metal key on the cushion beside you where his discarded tie still lays boneless. You look between him and the key, only solidifying your suspicions.
āIt's for a beach house. In Haiti.ā His eyes meet yours and you canāt make sense of the expression there, a mix of regret and guilt. āIāll take time off work. How long you want to stay, weāll stay.āĀ
āWhy?ā You ask although the answer seems a bit obvious, however, you want to hear him say it.Ā
āBecause I wonāt let this be the end of us. I want to heal us.āĀ
-
After another round of bloodwork and nearly two weeks after you got the key to a beach house in another country, the doctor cleared you for travel, even insisting on it with a sad little smile. Honestly it was a miracle she didnāt prescribe a vacation herself on special treatment.Ā
Two days after you were cleared, Katsuki bought plane tickets and you flew out the next night. The flight was long and excruciating, spending nearly thirty hours in the air before arriving on the southern left arm of the island. You arrived in Les Cayes by bus, passing banana trees with a large mountain range behind you as you touched down on La Tourterelle, a popular beach for tourists during tourist seasons.Ā
The heat carried the weight of a thousand suns, making the hole in your womb seem minuscule to the hot climate that only offers bursts of relief from the ocean breeze.Ā
You felt bad when Katsuki hauled your two suitcases down an old paved road, muttering something under his breath about a rental. You chose to ignore it, setting your eyes on the beach through thick banana trees. The water seemed to glisten with white glitter, every wave sounding as if you were right by the sea with your toes in the sand instead of sneakers on pavement.Ā
The walk wasnāt long along the islandās coastline, meeting a hint of brown within the trees that turn less of bananas and more thick with full leaves and shade. A small cabin rests in the center of it, just at the edge of the old road. Itās small, a good sized porch on thick stumps for potential flooding since the island did see earthquakes almost as often as Japan.Ā
āThis place is beautiful,ā you hum, following behind him up the stairs. Entering the cabin, the air felt colder and stale, like itās been years since the structure last saw a familiar face.Ā
You took the time to explore the cabin while Katsuki found the master and put luggage away. Downstairs was the living room and kitchen, the master room on one side with the bathroom on the other. Upstairs in the loft was a makeshift lounge with a private bar and a pool table. It was obvious this beach house was borrowed, most likely from Denki judging on the WiFi that connected to your phone the second you walked through the door.Ā
You brushed your hand along the length of the pool table. You didnāt know much about it, just that there used to be one back at UA high in the dorms that Katsuki liked to play.Ā
You wonder if he still did, with Kirishima and Denki at the bar every Friday. He never did talk about his Friday nights, always too drunk or horny to finish the conversation every time the topic did arrive.Ā
Like a moth to a flame, you hear footsteps until Katsuki steps on the hardwood planks of the loft. āEverythingās in the closet downstairs, your sandals are by the main entrance and I put the food in the fridge but we should stop somewhere either today or tomorrow.āĀ
āDo you still play?ā You ask, changing topics from meaningless chat. āPool, you used to all the time.āĀ
It takes him a second to register the question, eyes flickering to the green felt and oak trim. āSometimes. Winning every time killed the passion.āĀ
āHumble,ā you tease.Ā
āHave to be,ā he shrugs, flicking the leaf of a nearby houseplant. This place must be managed by someone if thereās thriving houseplants. āI have everything I want.āĀ
āDream job,ā you hum, gently pushing the white ball to a steady roll before it clacks with the triangle of balls in the middle, ādream carā¦dream house.āĀ
āDream wife.ā You barely catch it, his eyes elsewhere before they sense your gaze and meet yours. āDonāt forget that part.āĀ
Your heart flutters anxiously and itās the first thing youāve felt in what feels like forever. The first emotion felt since you buried a piece of your heart and its nerves. Nothing but teenage jitters for a love that seems eternal.Ā
āSmooth.ā You offer a small glimpse of a smile before turning on your heels, heading past him. He stops you before you even get the chance, hand to your waist, pulling you close. Without words, he hugs you tightly to his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.Ā
You want to push him away, voice the anger you know thatās hidden inside the marrow of your bones. Your body betrays you, melting into his touch like itās the first and last time youāll ever get the chance for intimacy this innocent.Ā
āCan we talkā¦about it?āĀ
His chest rumbles against your side at his words and you shake your head before you can even process the words, pulling away from him.Ā
āNo. No, Iām not ready.āĀ
You can feel the tension rise, the pressure of his eyes against your skin like heās tearing right through your flesh with words held back by his tongue. If you had to guess, it was taking every ounce of his self control not to just tie you to a chair and demand answers about how youāre feeling.Ā
Itās hard to talk about emotions you donāt have, so you stay persistent and head back down the stairs.Ā
A few hours go by and Katsuki goes off on his own for the entirety of it before coming back with a rental jeep and groceries for a week or two. Itās refreshing, knowing he wants to stay as long as you want.Ā
You set up camp on the beach, cradled to a water bottle on the beach with a black wool blanket to protect the sand from the ocean on your body. You canāt gauge how long youād been cooking under the sun with the occasional dip in the water, only the warmth of a premature tan on your skin.Ā
You were enjoying the island, the privacy of the beach without a single soul between you and the sea. It was comforting, the most comfort youād found worth relishing in since the miscarriage and full schedule of needles and medicine.Ā
You close the cap on your water bottle, glancing up at the sun that starts to paint the sky pink in a beautiful farewell on the day. It brings peace, the kind of peace youād been looking for between appointments and wondering what your husband was doing at work.Ā
Despite being alone, it wasnāt until now that you felt lonely. With your husband just a few steps inside, you couldnāt help but miss him more than you did for those four days where you two didnāt share a word with each other.Ā
What was he doing? Did he also feel this coldness despite the heat?Ā
You didnāt know if you were ready to know, you couldnāt exactly process your own thoughts so thinking you could make sense of his right now looked foolish. Youād only upset him, furthermore proving your point that you failed at everything you thought you were good at being: a woman.
With a heavy heart, a heated headache, and half the ocean in your lungs, you pack up your things once the sun finally sets over the horizon. The lights inside the cabin guide you back, every step slow and calculated, like you were counting every single step back towards the topic youād been avoiding for nearly two weeks.Ā
You drape the wool blanket over the porch railing, kicking off your sandy sandals outside before walking inside with your water bottle and a black lace pull over Katsuki bought you on your honeymoon almost two years ago.Ā
The smell of something spicy and sweet lingers the air like thick heat, coating your chilly skin as you venture further into the wooded building. The lights are dimmed, Katsuki over a hot stove with a few pots and pans on burners.Ā
This was and will always be your favorite sight of your husband, cooking a meal as if he were putting his soul into it, leaving nothing behind.Ā
You only realize youāve been staring until he lifts his head and nods his head your way. āCmere, try the sauce.āĀ
Such simple demands for a man who carries the weight of a world on his back and makes it look effortless. Your feet carry you closer until you can smell the hint of coconut. āWhat are you making?ā You ask, stopping just a few moments beside him, leaving room for distanceā distance he didnāt like, moving just half an inch closer to you with a wooden spoon held out.Ā
āCoconut shrimp. I think. This old hag gave me a recipe in town when she caught me buying shrimp. Tried to haggle me for it too.ā He holds the spoon closer to your lips, ātry it.ā
You accept the spoon, letting him feed you a small taste. The flavors burst on your palette, coconut, sweet, tangy, everything you didnāt know you needed. Your reaction must show on your face because he cracks a smirk, playing you with those eyes that are too naturally suggestive.Ā
āYou like it.ā Itās not a question, but a statement.Ā
You challenge, āitās not bad.āĀ
āYou like it,ā he restates, āadmit it.āĀ
You shake your head simply for the fun of it, feeling that easy banter fall back into place like the missing puzzle piece of many. The earthquake of your miscarriage had disrupted a few and now it was a matter of when youād find every piece again.Ā
āNever.āĀ
āYou little shit,ā he murmurs, taking a small taste for himself. āItās fucking phenomenal.āĀ
āIt really is,ā you finally admit, albeit under your breath as you steal a fried shrimp from a basket, dipping it into the sauce and popping it straight into your mouth. He chuckles at the action, not surprised by your quickness, only this time heās letting you get away with it.Ā
With a clearer head, you move towards the small kitchen island with enough space for three, sitting down in the middle of the two metal chairs. Youāre starting to realize that this puzzle canāt be fixed if you donāt at least put a bit of effort into it.Ā
āHowās work?ā You start with a conversation. Ease a bit of the tension around steady conversation.Ā
āLike normal bullshit that I donāt have the patience for.ā He stirs the pan of sauce and shrimp, occasionally checking on the rice. āNobody knows how to do shit right and Iām left to clean up messes that were easily preventable.āĀ
āThat sounds challenging,ā you murmur, chin in your hand. āYouāre pretty specific though, in a good way. So it makes sense.āĀ
āIām specific?ā He asks, tossing a glance over his shoulder.Ā
You offer a small nod. āVery. In a good way.āĀ
āHow am I specific?āĀ
āHmm,ā you search your memories for a quick example. āWell, for starters you like to do the cooking-ā
āYouāre a shitty cook.ā Plates clink with utensils. You throw out a small gasp.Ā
āOkayā¦but you also critique my work when I fold the towels-āĀ
āYouāre a shitty folder.āĀ
And a shitty excuse for a woman. But you donāt say that.Ā
āKatsuki.āĀ
A plate of coconut shrimp and rice slides your way along with a spoon. Your eyes lift, meeting his parallel to you as he leans his elbows on the other side of the counter, his own plate in front of him.Ā
āGo on.āĀ
Once out of your momentary pause, a sigh leaves your lungs. āYou always sit on my left.ā
Itās his turn to pause, jaw going still before he swallows. āItās your blind spot.āĀ
āIām not a car.āĀ
āSnore like one-ā
āKatsuki!āĀ
For the first time in a while, you and Katsuki share your first laugh again. Itās light, full of years of pointless arguments back when they still seemed so big and real, now nothing but playful banter between the two of you. And itās so fucking refreshing.Ā
You watch him shake his head, scooping another spoonful of shrimp and rice into his spoon. āI donāt think Iām specific. I think I just like shit done right.āĀ
āWell your right could be someone elseās wrong,ā you point out with your spoon, āyou donāt know what kinds of morals people have and which ones they respect most.āĀ
Your words seem to settle inside his mind because heās silent for awhile, the kind of silence that leaves you wondering how heāll respond.Ā
āHow do I know who will respect me and who wonāt then,ā he murmurs. Heās opening up to you, asking for advice like your words might actually matter.Ā
āYou canāt.ā His furrowed eyebrows egg you on to elaborate. āIf you could gauge or see what kind of person someone is then what would be the point in getting to know someone?āĀ
āIām not trying to make friends with those bastards working under me.āĀ
You shrug, āmaybe you should.āĀ
He seems to have a hard time with your advice because he does that thing where can read the hesitation on his face. Like youād been doing for years, your hand cups the underside of his jaw and silently take in the blonde stubble there. āHey. Iām not trying to say what youāre doing isnāt productive, itās worked this far, right? Iām just giving my own thoughts.ā
āI value your thoughts.ā His hand cups around your wrist but he doesnāt move your hand, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.Ā
āYou do?ā
āDonāt be stupid. You know I do.āĀ
You didnāt until just now, but telling him wouldnāt hold value. Nothing would, not when youāve already shown you arenāt much of a wife than you are a mother.Ā
You pull your hand away like his face burned to touch, feeling yourself retreat back into yourself. No matter what, you couldnāt shake the dread hanging over your head like a corpse. You wish he could see who you really were, it would make things a lot easier for him at least.Ā
The clocks are ticking on your marriage and youāre starting to wonder if maybe itās too late to salvage what it once was.Ā
-
Katsuki slept alone on the couch the first night, feeling like heād taken two steps back rather than forward. Like a stick in the mud, his marriage is still at a stand still and he has no idea how to begin to fix it.Ā
Last night, your words and actions affected him deeper than heād care to admit. Youād grown wiser, harder around the edges. Heād like to think you were finally starting to get your head on straight, but he knew this side of you was too new for him. Too different from the immature woman he fell in love with.Ā
He couldnāt help but feel like he was fighting fate itself. The thought brushed the tip of his head, was this what destroys his marriage?Ā
He didnāt want to think like that. His parents had issues and they worked through them, nothing was unfixable, his mothers motto when it comes to relationships like navigating choppy waters.Ā
He sifted through memories of her relationship advice as he made coffee, the middle of his brain snagging one to replay as he listens to the brew of coffee.Ā
He sat at the table for dinner, already fuming with another shitty emotion he didnāt know how to process in his fucked up brain. Love, the kind of thing his dad always talked about when he was a child.Ā
It was a bunch of bullshit, love. He couldnāt make sense of it, how could something so filled with mindless arguments be anything close to the kind of love his father couldnāt shut the fuck up about?Ā
āYou look like you need to shit.ā He lifts his eyes, meeting the face of his mother where he gets most of his complexion from. Her hands are in a cardboard box, tending to a broken plate that sheās trying to salvage instead of tossing.Ā
āShut up, hag.āĀ
āKatsuki!ā Her anger is only a facade because a soft laughs leaves her, shaking her head in mild affection for her son with the tongue of her father. āJust tell me whatās wrong. I am a mother, I could help.āĀ
āLike you could ever help,ā he mutters, but even the words donāt sound too convincing.Ā
āTry me.āĀ
With a reluctant groan, he rests his chin in his hand. āItās her. It seems like all we ever do now is fight about stupid, little shit that doesnāt even make sense. Fuck, I donāt want this relationship if fighting is all weāre going to do.āĀ
The last part is only half true, he just hopes his mother doesnāt catch on to it.Ā
āAhh,ā a soft smile materializes on her face, āyoung love. I remember those days, hormonal and emotional all in one.ā
āWhat are you talking about?ā
āTake this plate for exampleāā she points to the broken plate now put back together with white grout, āāwhile it might still be broken, Iāve changed it into a cute wall decoration.ā
āI donāt think-ā
āShut up.ā She fires a glare his way and he reluctantly goes quiet. āThink of your relationship with her like this plate. While you may always fight, shattering your relationship with every argument, you also have the power to transform it into something beautiful. Love is about balance, itās going to get hard. You just have to know what to do when it does.āĀ
āSo then what do I do?ā
āI just told you.āĀ
āNo you didnāt-ā
āDo your homework, ungrateful little shit.āĀ
His thoughts end with the sound of the coffee machine shutting off. He remembers being so lost after his mother told him that, it took weeks before he realized he could just talk to you about his annoyances and youād listen.Ā
That was the first time he learned how to resolve issues with you, only now, the issue isnāt as small as the others. Heās battling grief without any knowledge how to handle it. Should he be gentle? Harsh? He wish he knew.Ā
Pouring a cup of coffee, he makes it just how you like and heads for the master. With a soft knock, he opens the door to find the sunrise already making a home on the walls and furniture in the room. Youāre in the middle of the bed, laid on your side with a pillow clutched in your embrace.Ā
The word cute fills his brain but he doesnāt pay attention to it or the blush heating his ears and neck.Ā
As he approaches his eyes catch a plastic pill case on the bedside and he grabs it. He canāt even count how many pills there are, just that there are a lot and something shifts inside of him.Ā
He sits on the edge, placing the mug on the table before putting his full attention on you. He hadnāt realized how little he knew about you, your body, how itās doing after everything. He used to be so in tune with your health, but now he knew absolutely nothing.Ā
He watches you stir awake, soft moans leaving your lips as your eyes flutter against the sun. Force of habit, he finds his hand moving your hair behind your ear. He nearly melts into the bed when you move into his touch, half asleep and still looking for him despite the choppy waters. All he wants is to curl up behind you and hold you like before, but he knows he has a long way before that.Ā
āWake up.ā He says it softly with that usual rasp, giving him that hardness around his edges like rocks. You moan in response, slowly rolling on your back with your arms folded over your eyes.Ā
He knew it was a little early, only an hour after you usually get up, but he wanted to know what the pills were forā learn his wifeās health again.
āCome on baby,ā he murmurs, much softer this time with a small rub to your shoulder, āI even made you coffee.āĀ
The mention of coffee has you sitting right up, messy hair and irritated eyes that still have sleep clinging around your irises. Itās the purest form of yourself, one he hadnāt realized he missed seeing.Ā
āCoffee?āĀ
He hands you the mug and you nearly melt into the cup, warmth seeping into your hands. āThank you.āĀ
He doesnāt respond, instead, he grabs the pill case and places it on the bedding on your lap. āWhat are these?āĀ
You swallow a sip of coffee, feeling it warm you from the inside. āPills.āĀ
āNo shit.ā He grabs the case, opening the small capsule for the day. āBut what kind?āĀ
Another sigh leaves you, softer this time. Heās trying, wants to know about your health, itās obvious in the way he nervously fiddles with the case, ignoring your gaze. You scotch closer, pointing to each pill as you speak. āThese two are vitamins, they were more important when I was losing all the blood but I stopped bleeding two days ago. This tiny one is an antibiotic and this big one is a probiotic so I donāt get a yeast infectionā that would be a nightmare.āĀ
āThese pills could make you worse?ā
āNo no,ā you point to the tiny pill again. āJust the antibiotic. It gets rid of all the good bacteria, which is why I counter it with a probiotic to increase the production of the good bacteria. Your mom taught me that.āĀ
āShe did?āĀ
āMhm.ā After your second year anniversary with Katsuki, spent in bed because of a viral infection, his mother taught you the importance of probiotics when taking antibiotics. It was the first time youād ever heard his mother talk to you like you were her own, like she knew you two shared a deeper connection than what you knew at the time.Ā
The memory, compared to now, leaves you with a newfound sense of hope. His mother was a wise woman, one of the wisest youāve gotten to chance to know. If she saw it then, then maybe this miscarriage wonāt ruin the life youād built around her anxious son.Ā
āI had no idea.āĀ
You snort, āyour moms very informative. I go to her about most health questions I have.ā
āNot that..ā he dumps the pills for the day into his hand, offering them to you gently. āThis. I didnāt know you were taking pills for itā¦you said it was natural.āĀ
āIt is,ā you reassure, accepting the pills and downing them with a sip of coffee.Ā
āThen how was your miscarriage fucking natural?ā You can hear his frustration and confusion in the rawness of every word that leaves his mouth and you wonder if telling the truth is the right thing to do right now. It must be, lying wouldnāt do any better to the truth.Ā
āBecause it was. Our blood types are different, negative and positiveā¦ā you swallow, placing the mug in your lap as his eyes finally meet yours. āMy body killed our child because it saw it as a threatā¦so yeah, the miscarriage was pretty natural.āĀ
The silence that hangs is deafening and it only solidifies the same fact youād been turning over your head since it happened. You werenāt a good mother, no better than a wife, a sorry excuse for a woman if you canāt even protect your husband's child from your own body.Ā
The reality of it makes you dizzy, eyes burning but you close them before your deep rooted pain shows in the form of tears.Ā
You werenāt compatible, biologically, without the help of a medicated pregnancy. Those were the doctors words, the chances of bearing a child with your blood type nearly impossible in chances.Ā
The coffee mug is taken from your hands and in a flash youāre being pulled my big arms, face pressed against a warm chest through a thin tee shirt. You can hear his heart, smell his musky sweetness and you lean into it.Ā
The threshold snaps and the tears come pouring out from your failure to house a child in your defective body. He holds every ounce of it, cradling you close just like he did that night.Ā
āIām so sorry,ā he murmurs against your hair and you can hear the tears in his words as well, āIām so fucking sorry, Y/N.ā
-
A few days go by and itās not stiff and anxious around him anymore. Conversation turned easy, but never too deep. Touches became a thing again, but never too heated. And you let him sleep in the same bed as you again, but never too close.Ā
Things were starting to fall back into place, but not everything. You were still missing that deep rooted connection that was severed the minute he buried himself with work and you got too busy at the doctors.Ā
Intimacy, the most simplest forms of love two people can share.Ā
But now you stand along the beach, holding his hand like you used to, the sun hitting its peak on the day before the clouds take away its power. The waves sound clear, every kiss to shore a mocking one for the situation you find yourself in.Ā
It wasnāt like you didnāt want to be intimate with your husband, you craved his skin every second you didnāt have it. Butā¦you didnāt feel like you could fulfill him like before. Youād shown yourself you couldnāt be a good mother, what else were you bad at without knowing?Ā
āHey, come back to me.ā He gently tugs your hand, pulling you from your inner turmoil. āYouāre thinking. What are you thinking?āĀ
Over the years youād learned itās better to be honest with Katsuki. While the honest truth might upset him more than lying would, heād never have any reason to doubt a lie youād tell. You couldnāt do that to him, knowing he takes your words as rule.Ā
āStupid stuff.āĀ
āYour stuff isnāt stupid.āĀ
āThis stuff is.āĀ
He pauses and pulls you closer which is easy in the sand. You face him, the sea behind you with a breeze that carries a sense of courage.Ā
āItās just..ā he gently squeezes you hand at your hesitation, āwe havenāt kissed in awhile.āHe cracks a natural smile and you shove his chest playfully, ādonāt laugh!āĀ
āIām sorry that was just really fuckinā cute.āĀ
Your face burns and you have to turn away before you burst into flames and do any more damage to his mental health with a dead wife.Ā
āYou want intimacy?ā He pulls you close with his free arm around your waist, his lips close to your ear. āBecause thatās my favorite skill.āĀ
You donāt need to respond, your body language says it all. Your face is hot, your body is stiff, and your hand is shaking gently in his. Itās everything he needs to see before pulling you impossibly close, replacing your hand for your face.Ā
Itās slow at first, the motions of his eyes taking in your face like heād never done it before, and then his lips brush yours. Itās the softest thing ever, the heat of his breath mingling with yours with the coolness of his lips against yours. Without realizing, youāre pushing closer, deepening the kiss.Ā
Itās warmer, thumb tracing the angle of your jaw while his fingers toy with the loose fabric of your sundress behind you. Itās something out of your wildest fantasies, the way his lips, his touch is enough to send off a multitude of fireworks inside your stomach.Ā
Itās exactly the thing youād been missing, the kind of connection you now knew you needed to nurture.Ā
The thing youād been missing without quite realizing it. Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.Ā
He pulls away but you push closer, āhey-ā you pull him closer, āwait.ā Your lips crash against his, pushing every unsaid word against his lips. It's almost instant that he kisses back, wrapping both arms around your waist like this was him finally coming home.Ā
His tongue delves into your mouth, exposing everything all at once and youāre forced to take it. But you canāt stop yourself from moaning against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.Ā
It takes all but a mere minute of pure hunger between your tongues that he finds his self restraint and gives a tug. His hand in your hair tugs you back without enough force to hurt. āFuckā Pauseāā
Heās out of breath, panting like a mutt with a wild look in his eyes like he canāt believe heās letting himself pull away from this and from you after mere eons away from you.Ā
āYou donāt want me?ā Itās meant as a statement but comes out a question, unable to stop the slow gravitational pull to his lips that heās trying so hard to pull away.Ā
āDonāt put those words in my mouthāā
āThatās not denying it.āĀ
He shakes you in his hold. āIf youāre going to argue with me right now over something dumb then Iām telling you itās not going to walk around the very thing weāve both been avoiding.ā Heās got a desperate look in his eyes and it instantly shakes your core, āwe need to talk about how traumatic that mustāve been for you, baby. I canāt shake the feeling you wonāt tell me because I couldnāt protect you from that, the only damn job I have.āĀ
He releases your face, holding his arms around your waist like he canāt ever let go. But his eyes, theyāre the purest theyād ever looked before, like his whole life depended on addressing the elephant in the room.Ā
āYou did the best you could,ā you supply, unable to avoid the sting in your eyes and the tears that quickly follow. āI know it wasnāt easy for you either, Iād never seen you make such a face before when I showed you the small bump. Like you were ready for fatherhood, ready to take a new route in your life.āĀ
āI fucking left you alone to deal with all of it alone,ā another small shake, āIām a goddamn hero yet i couldnāt save you from thisā I shouldāve taken better care of youā i shouldāve taken off more time for you.ā
āStop that,ā you whisper, āyou did everything you could in the moment, that you shouldnāt apologize for. It should be me,ā your voice cracks, āmy only job was to grow a healthy baby and my body rejected it.āĀ
āYou did a perfect job,ā he murmurs, pulling your head to his chest, holding you securely in his embrace under the sun's heat before the clouds take over the sky. āThe miscarriage was a chance we hadnāt realized, but you are not the one to blame. If I could go back in time the only thing Iād change is my ignorance.āĀ
This was it, sharing grief. The very thing your marriage needed for it to be fixed, being able to share it. He holds you tighter once the tears start, holding you as close as possible like the world was closing in around you two.Ā
You could make sense of it and you didnāt need to, not anymore. The only thing you needed was him, all of him, to remind you that the miscarriage was traumatic but you donāt have to battle that demon alone. You donāt have to do anything alone, not with the rings that bind you to him.Ā
-
It felt as if the gates were opening and you couldnāt find your grip to stop it, not when Katsuki carried you back to the cabin and hands, lips, and tongues took the lead. You werenāt sure if you were ready for sex yet after the miscarriage, but your doctor wouldnāt have insisted you go on this vacation with your husband if it was too big of a risk to take, that and you couldnāt care less about anything but him and the way he carries you to the master.Ā
His lips devour yours, taking everything heād been missing from you without remorse. You let him, tightening your thighs around his hips as he places you on the bed, hovering over you like he was about to take his time with you and refund every hour he spent away from you.Ā
Pulling away, his large and calloused hands slide down to your thighs before slowly pushing up the thin fabric of your dress to your hips. āGod damn,ā he groans, eyes taking in every inch of you like heās scared to look away, āstill got those fucking pregnancy curves baby, making my dick hard.āĀ
Scooping your thighs in his arms, he drags you closer to him on the bed until you feel himself right between your thighs, right against your core and it sends shivers down your curved spine. Youād never been this wet before, inner thighs nearly soaked as he slowly rubs his confined erection against your pussy clad in black silk panties.Ā
āJesus, Kats,ā you whimper, staring up at him wildly as if you could deny the overwhelming need curling between your thighs like a horrible ache. āP-Pauseā¦ā
āYou wanna pause?ā He asks, like the idea itself sounds like sin. His hands nearly fist your hips like a small attempt to keep you below him, āwhen your pussyās this wet?āĀ
Shaking his head, he smacks the fat of your hips with a sinister smirk on his lips, straightening his back to get a better view of your vulnerability beneath him. The way he holds your eyes leaves you sure he can also feel it, how hard the lust is hitting like the distance away from one another was its own potent aphrodisiac.Ā
But that smirk on his face, dripping with sin, suggested he was well aware just how hard his dick was starting to strain against his jeans.Ā
āTell me,ā he drops a hand and slowly undoes the metal buckle of his belt, āyou want me to stop?āĀ
You canāt even bring yourself to lie, not when heās doing the zipper like that. He knows the answer already, itās written all over your face, your body.Ā
āSpeak up.ā He growls, tugging himself out of his jeans. You nearly gasp at the weight of his dick against your cunt, unable to look away from his body and every vein or muscle that ripples with a threat to steal your self-restraint.Ā
āNo, I donāt want you to stop.ā You shake your head against the pillows, ādonāt stop.āĀ
He doesnāt need to hear anything else, your breathless undertone is enough to drive him fucking insane. He gets down on his knees and elbows, lips brushing your cheek, your neck, your chest, every inch of you skin heād missed until his face burries between your thighs.Ā
āOh,ā you canāt control your voice as his thumb tugs your panties to the side, āoh, god.ā Heās on you in seconds, tongue delving deeper inside of you as his fingers hold your thighs with a bruising force. He hasnāt eaten you out like this in months, missing how well he knows your body better than you know it yourself.Ā
You fist the pillows behind you when he adds a finger, tonguing your clit like heās clocked in. A moan rips from your throat, eyes rolling back with the curve of his finger inside of you, already adding in another.Ā
His fingers are already drenched inside of you, slipping in and out with ease, accompanying every thrust with a lewd, syrupy noise. It lights your body on fire, shivering against the sheets, feeling his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you that makes you wonder if there really is a cloud nine and if thatās where heās taking you.Ā
His cheek rests against your thigh, both of them on his shoulders as he makes out with your clit like a starved man, devoting everything to you. He kisses your clit with fever, moaning and mumbling nonsense like heās confessing to sin and youāre the only god he wants forgiveness from.Ā
Every touch, taste, it drives you frantic for release, shivering and moaning into the master room, the clouds finally taking dominion over the sky and making everything dark. But even despite the gloomy atmosphere that threatens the island with rain, the only thing you care about is the storm thatās brewing in your abdomen. Itās thickly hot and warm, mending your skin and bones until your frantically reaching for his hair, closing a fist around it.Ā
Your orgasm rips right through before you can give warning, washing over you like a tsunami after an earth shattering quake. It steals your breath and your vision, head filled with fog and unyielding lust that overcomes you with white hot pleasure. Itās the sweetest revenge for a man with the purpose of making up what was once lost.Ā
He devours you until thereās nothing left to feed, lifting his head with a dazed expression that drips with something too intense. You hold his stare through your shallow pants, blinking wildly as if to stay conscious through the aftershocks.Ā
āStill alive?ā He asks, voice still rough and wet from his earlier adventures. You nod with as much energy you can offer, letting your head fall back into the pillows, catching your breath. āNeed a break?āĀ
Your eyes shoot open because the very last thing you want is a break. āNo,ā you shake your head, āno breaks.āĀ
But you feel him pull away and it scares you that this will stop here, will stop like this. In a haze, you flip your bodies until your positioned in a straddle of his hips, hands on his chest for stability as his eyes stare up at you with wicked amusement.Ā
āBaby, was just going to get you water-ā
You shut him up with your lips, crashing yours to his with a kiss to seal the fate of your future. It isnāt when you pull away for breath that you find your words. āI donāt want to stop. Please, I canāt- I need you inside of me.āĀ
You donāt care how desperate you sound, if your voice teeters on the edge of cold desperation, you need him so bad that itās starting to hurt. You hadnāt realized, but sex with Katsuki was the only thing that connected you with him, and right now all you wanted was that burning, golden thread.Ā
His palms find your upper thighs, holding you but never forcing, his own way of tearing down his walls just for you. Your movements are slow, unable to stop the soft tremor in your thighs as you slip off your panties and throw your dress off. He does the same with his shirt before holding your hips, unable to keep his hand off of you even for a second.Ā
You can feel the nerves from before, as if asking you if this was really worth the risk of potentially hurting yourself moreā¦but that didnāt matter when you look down and see the same desperation in his eyes thatās eating you alive from the inside. He looks like he might die if he doesnāt feel you around him in the next minute, like his whole life depends on you, and only you.Ā
You start slow, unable to form words, but he didnāt need them to understand this was going to be slow for start. Wrapping your palm around him, feeling him throb with heat, you align his tip to your entrance and he freezes.Ā
āWait, baby, no condom?ā He gives you a concerned look, like maybe this wasnāt a good idea, āare you sure- oh fuckkkk!āĀ
You slide down on him slowly until your clit brushes against his blonde hairs, hands tightening against his chest at the stretch. Itās almost like the first time, feeling him so deep that it hurts so good. Your head falls back, fighting a mix between a moan and a cry. He watches you just the same, biting down on his lip, fighting his primal urges to just flip you over and fuck weeks worth of celibacy into you.Ā
Youāre going fucking dumb from just the fullness of his dick so deep inside of you, like his dick has a motive to penetrate your soul. It steals everything from your lungs, body rolling forward by your hips like muscle memory, remembering exactly how good sex with Katsuki Bakugo is.Ā
āLook at me.ā Your eyes immediately follow his voice downward, meeting crimson eyes that penetrate you just like his cock. āHanging in there?ā It comes out rough, matching his intensity. āNo pain?āĀ
Heās checking in on you, making sure youāre not pushing your limits despite those primal urges bubbling beneath his tanned skin. You nod, slowly gliding your hands up and down his chest. āNo pain,ā you confirm. āJust..slow, itās been awhile.āĀ
He grunts with a small nod, sliding his hands to your waist, helping you move your hips back and forth until you both find the rhythm. It feels too good to be real, his gentle touches against his primal grunts, those eyes that watch every single movement you make like he just canāt get enough, itās euphoric.Ā
Itās not long before you find that equilibrium between the slow movements and the pressure between your thighs before youāre picking up speed. His grunts grow rougher and more clipped with every thrust, watching you sit up to get a better angleā using him like itās what heās built for.Ā
āHah- fu-fuck me- ngh, like that, just like thattt,ā he groans, jaw hardening with every bounce like hes holding himself back. āDonāt stop dontstopdont- fuck~ youāre so tight-ā
āBaby, oh s-shittt~ā you donāt even recognize your voice, your desperate moans with every squelching thrust, and heās damn near putty because of it. Itās almost pathetic, seeing a man so well respected among those around the worldā a hero who saves all and turns to a moaning mess when his wife rides him. But heās yours, for now, and itās so good.Ā
You ride him like you owe it to yourself and he moans like itās sin. Taking a leap into the devils pit, your world tilts and youāre tossed on your back. Heās on you in seconds, hips thrusting like he needs it, lips devouring yours.Ā
Your orgasm comes fast and he can feel it, thighs clenching around his hips, moans slipping past lips. He canāt pull away, canāt stop.Ā
You moan against his lips like it hurts, fisting his hair as every thrust breaks you into a million pieces. Itās never been this intense, tears cooling the corners of your eyes.Ā
You pull away from his lips, head lolling back as you try to catch a breath. But heās not wasting a single moment, giving your ass a small smack as he rolls your body, leaving you perched on your stomach with your ass in the air. He slides himself back inside and you have to moan into the pillow, his chest pressed against your back, his lips right by your ear.Ā
Itās so intimate, his grunts in your ear, his sharp thrusts of his hips against your ass, reminding you exactly who he isā your husband.Ā
āIāve missed this,ā he whispers against your heated ear, āmakinā love to you.āĀ
āMe too,ā itās soft, vulnerable. āWe do it so good.āĀ
He laughs softly, brushing his lips against your hair. āGood girl.āĀ
He changes his pace, giving you slow grinds against your hips like heās putting all of his attention on you. The heat from his body against your back eases all your tension, letting yourself drown in the feeling of him. Itās the most intimate way youāve ever felt pleasure.Ā
āI still want a baby.ā He slides his hand up your side, thumb brushing your ribs. āThat wonāt ever change. But I donāt want to risk your health because of it.āĀ
He presses a kiss to your shoulder, nearly forgetting to respond because he just feels so good. āWe just need to be carefulā¦ā
He presses another kiss to your shoulder, āIāll be there more often,ā another to your jaw, ātake better care of you.āĀ
His words hit a spot deep inside you, melting your heart to your flesh. You want that, another try, a gamble with chance. You wanted to give him fatherhood, a tiny version of himself to love just as much as he loves you, but never more.Ā
āCum inside,ā you manage to open your eyes, glancing over your shoulder, eyes holding his. āAnother try. Please.āĀ
Something snaps inside of him and you take the brunt of it. His hips quicken, his lips find yours with a hunger like no other.Ā
Your moans get louder, his grow rougher. Fisting the pillows, your eyes roll back and you wonder if this is how the religious know there is a heaven.Ā
He cums inside shortly after you do, kissing you over and over until his lips go numb.Ā
You couldnāt explain it, the clarity that overcomes you like the first warm morning in spring when even the birds sing in joy.Ā
You didnāt want to stop, you couldnāt stop. Without a time limit on your stay, you find yourself pulling him closer, ready for another round.Ā
Because itās now or never and neither of you can wait any longer.Ā
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possessive Megumi who hides in your shadow after an argument before a night out with the girls. it seems every girl with a secure relationship finds themselves in a text war with their boyfriends before a night at the club, especially if their man knows their girl is pretty.
however, Megumi is willing the spend the entire night in the shadows, watching you turn your phone off and take one more free drink from a guy at the bar if it meant keeping you safe. he might grit his teeth, fighting that urge to beat every man that glances at you into bloody pulps, after all, he was never one to empathize for others like his best friend did. jesus, just watching you dance like he hadnāt sent you a whole paragraph just makes his blood boil beneath his skin. yet, he remains hidden in your shadow that smells so deliciously of your shampoo and perfume.
he might be mad at you, but your safety is of higher priority to him right now. even if it also fuels his guilty pleasure of watching you while you stay blissfully unaware of him.
In which popular girl!reader lets Nerd!Gojo hit it ;)
āOh, f-fuck,ā he stammers, nerves on fire as he fucks his throbbing cock inside with little rhythm or finesse, āyouāre tighter than the -ngh!- tolerances on a quantum vacuum chamber.ā
With your back arched and manicured nails ripping holes in his Star Wars themed sheets, you scold him. āUgh, donāt talk about my pussy like that.ā
Why you ever gave the lanky nerd in the Theoretical Physics department a chance, who can say?
Satoru is clumsy and a bumbling mess who uses cheesy jokes to hide his crippling social anxiety. When you first met, he didnāt even have the tact to hide how blatantly he was ogling your tits behind his glasses, far too busy guessing your bra size, youāre sure, to even answer your question regarding the direction of the RAās office.Ā
Well, heās kinda cute, you guess ā if you squint or imagine him with a different hair cut or clothes.Ā
He says whatās on his mind, blushes when you get too close or when your voice warps into a sultry tone just to mess with him, and builds you flowers out of LEGO because he thinks the amount of time spent on a gift adds more value than a designer label could. And itās a little embarrassing that he thinks just because you let him eat you out in the janitorās closet, finger you under the table in the library, and fuck your brains out on his bed, that youāre dating or something.Ā
God, he can be so fucking clinging too: getting his computer science nerds to hack a guy who asked for your number and frame him for fraud, telling anyone and everyone whoāll listen that youāre in love, and begging to go on dates all the damn time.Ā
If he wasnāt so damn good at giving you mind-melting orgasms, youād have ditched his loser ass ages ago.Ā
Glasses fogging up, he rams his cock over and over again, intoxicated by the overwhelming bliss heād never felt before you. Heās relentless. He doesnāt even realise youāve cummed twice since he buried himself balls deep inside your poor, puffy cunt. āSogoodsogoodsogoood. I-I think I -hah fuck- love you.ā
Fed up, you flip him over, slapping a hand over his swollen lips and fixing him a glare. āYou know I hate when you say the L word. I like my orgasms given to me in relative silence, Satoru. If you canāt follow my rules, weāre going to have to stop thisā¦arrangement of ours.ā
His eyes are wide, panicked hands gripping your hips to keep you from leaving. You let him speak. āIām sorry! Iām sorry, I wonāt do it again.ā Rutting his cock inside, eyes rolling back at the tightness and the obscene squelches he pulls out, he continues with desperation, āP-please stay. Fuck me. Use me. Iām yours. Do whatever you want with me, I can take it. I want to take it so bad.ā
Sharp lips curl into sharper points. Your hips begin grinding in circles, pulsing clit grateful for the stimulation against his pelvis.Ā
āThatās better.ā
Think this is my first nerd!jo attempt. Dunno why I took so long, but hey ho. You know I love me a pathetic man heh. Reader's mean and lying to herself but that's just how he likes it.
this is honestly so dumb. my daughters, as amazing as they are, have suggested i write in this notebook about the things im grateful for. i said yes because saying no to them is as impossible as playing pool with rope. and i only wish to make my daughters feel so seen and loved that they donāt even think about the life they were given before me.
as of right now, though, i am only grateful for my children, wife, and job. in that order particularlyāi love my wife dearly but i was a father before a husband.
march 7
i am writing again, this time about my feelings. mimiko, my quietest, told me the importance of being true to oneself. she then asked me if i was ever like that to my wife, to which i nodded. so she asked me to write about it, how it felt when i realized i had found someone i could truly be myself with. not a father or a leader, just me.
i smile as i write this because i hadnāt realized i have been my authentic self around my wife until now. she sees the man i practice to be, strong willed and stable. and then she sees the man iāve always been, an asshole. iāve layed out every single personality and every single flaw to a woman who seems to embody everything that is perfect, and she still loves me unconditionally.
i truly am the luckiest man alive in that aspect. i surround myself with my loving daughters and wife, provide every little thing their gentle hearts desire.
and if given the chance, iād do it all over again; for them.
april 1
this might be the worst holiday in existence for a man living with three women. honestly, itās a surprise i havenāt asked my wife for a son yet to even the playing field.
it started when i woke up, finding my wife laid out like usual. she isnāt aware, but her snores lull me back to sleep if i wake up in the middle of the night, a bad dream or poor posture usually at fault. but upon further inspection, i find a mass of those craft store eyes stuck to my body and hers.
my first thought was the girls, this was the kind of prank that had their name written all over it. that is, until my wifeās snores started to melt into soft giggles. she had been awake the entire time, a half full sheet of stickers hidden beneath her thigh.
twenty minutes later, iām shuffling into the kitchen where the girls are fixing breakfast. a sign i shouldnāt have overlooked.
Nanako, my chattiest, starts filling me in on the latest. she explains a new trend where fathers give their daughters a certain number and they try to get a post with that many views for a reward. and while i was busy trying to provide her with a number, i shouldāve been paying attention to the glass Mimiko was sliding in front of me.
orange juice was what i assumed, taking a sip without suspicion. and what coated my mouth was nothing but cheese water.
their laughter still fills my head as i write this, horrified at such a prank. but i got my revenge, while only on my wife by kissing her with said cheese mouth, i still got it.
june 17
to my wife,
my daughters have shamed me for not addressing my entires to someone. i hadnāt realized when they told me i should start every entry with ādear diaryā. while i appreciate their suggestion, i would rather address every thought and emotion to the woman iāve dedicated my life toāmy wife.
last night, i burn the memory of you showing off your new swimsuits in the back of my mind. watching you smile like the happiest girl on earth, prancing around in different colors and patterns, some for your summer parties with your friends and others for our beach days with the girls.
you are a wonderful woman, inside and out, full of more love than your heart can contain. and i plan to give you just the same amount, everyday, until our girls leave the nest, we move away for retirement, and spend our days reading and drinking tea while our nights are spent in each otherās arms.
but until then, keep being yourself, my love. and iāll keep giving you everything you want.
september 7
to my wife,
while our summer together with the girls was nothing short of memorable, i find myself enjoying our time together now that the girls are back in school. or lack of a better word, i enjoy the sex. itās in the kitchen, over the coffee table, in the shower, in the backyardā¦itās everywhere. i cannot get enough of you, my beloved wife, the sexiest woman alive.
before monday, it had been three weeks since. and now? i need to have you every single second that weāre alone.
itās the moment that my eyes land on yours and your lashes flutter like wings, when i slide inside and we both gasp, the way your nails dig into my back and you hold me like iām going to disappear, that reminds me just how lucky i am to have you.
i love you, my wife. forever. and iām starting to imagine how mortified iāll be if you ever actually read this.
i wrote a pretty lengthy fic for Gojo yearssss ago and posted it on ao3 (lilacxoz). granted, i wouldnāt say itās my best work of fiction, but itās the first story i ever finished start to finish without wanting to quit, lol.
bc i am a quitter if i lose inspo.
i got this idea to rewrite it into an actual story with its own characters and iām already obsesseddddd. iām loving every aspect of giving life to my own characters while still keeping the original vibe.
idk, just wanted to share bc it made me happy :ā).
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āBaby,ā his voice sounds near your ear from behind, raspy and desperate, not holding back a single goddamn thing about the need burning his nerves. āYou turn me on.ā
A glance, a small rotation of your head to see those eyes of onyx, pools of desire so strong it melted the purple hue in them black.
And then he was on you like a dog with a bone, shoving you against the arm rest in his chambers where he conducts business. What was supposed to be a little joke, a game that was supposed to brighten his day turned into heated desire and elicited a hunger within him that was all too familiar.
The soft velvet stool met your elbows and his nails dug into your thighs that it threatened your skins barrier. And then he was moving you, forcing you into a straddle over his face, soft black locks tickling the insides of your thighs as thick arms hooked over your thighs.
āSugu-ā a gasp cuts off your voice, his tongue wasting no time as it delves so deep inside your core you wonder if you were really getting fucked by his tongue.
Your head was a syrupy mess of heat and humidity, parallel to the wetness between your thighs that glossed his tongue, lips, and face in liquid pleasure.
āBaby,ā the words are wet, mixed with sticky desire and saliva that formed every word just as dirty as the position you have over his face. āYour pussy is so wetttt.ā
āNgh~ā your brows furrow, head falls between your arms, and your back arches so sweetly but he tugs on your thighs, bringing your sensitive skin back to his lips. Gods, it feels so fuckinā right, so good it leaves your moans and cries almost anomalistically.
Your eyes roll back and a hand falls flat against his scalp before it curls, fisting silky strands so tight. He moans, nails digging into the fatty flesh of your thighsā bone.
Gods, it felt as if death was beyond you, as if a tidal wave or tsunami was brewing beyond a mushy sea. Pleasure clawed at your spine and you arched into it, toes curing into tatami, nails scripting the velvet below your elbows.
āOh god! Sugu-ā you jaw unhinged, āthere; there; there!ā
āSing it,ā he growled below, lips curling around that sensitive lilā bundle of nerves. āScream it baby. Tell them all whoās eatinā this pretty pussy.ā
Oh god. His words melted the cohesive thoughts you could materialize, made your thighs tremble with fear and joy all at once.
And then it hit harder than ever and you were high, leaning back in a swing fifty stories high.
He took you there, leading you back down with every soft flick and kiss against that pulsing nub between your thighs.
Jesus Christ, you could feel the air chill your throat as every sense cleared. Was this what good head felt like?
Nevermind, for your husband was already gearing up for round two.
tw: i donāt even know? :ā), itās pure filth in here. #satoruisafreak
the video starts with a clear view of satoruās face, flushed from his ears to his swollen lips, a faint view of deep purple hickeys on his neck that resemble tiny bruises.
his pupils are dialed and hooded with an expression that makes the context of the video easily recognizableāheās recording a sextape.
with cheeky confidence, the camera pans out to get a full view of his face and bare chest as he lays against a large white pillow. he lifts his arm, flexing his bicep with his free hand as his tongue wiggles out of his lips. the look on his face can only be described as giddy. too giddy for a man making a sextape.
the camera flips, revealing you straddling his bare hips, the only thing saving your innocence being his white shirt that seems like a dress on your body. your face is flushed, hand covering your mouth as your second holds down the fabric to cover where you connect with him.
his hand comes into view as the flash makes your skin appear like itās glowing, grabbing onto your hip with fever while effortlessly rocking your hips against him.
his phone only picks up the sound of his heavy breaths and the moans and groans of the bed below, supporting your activities like a soldier at war.
the camera flips again, revealing that same stupid grin on his face that seems to threaten to split his face in half.
āgotta switch, the lady is getting tired,ā he offers the camera a wink before setting it down somewhere, a plain white ceiling coming into view. āone second!ā
the sheets rustle with movement that the camera cannot view. a couple seconds later, he picks up the phone with the same grin. he sticks out his tongue again, this time shaking it as his hand moves his hair out of his sweaty and flushed face.
āiām fucking her soooo good,ā he damn near moans, āwanna see?ā
he flips the camera around, revealing you below him. this time the shirt is bunched up by the fat of your hips, his hand placed firmly on your thigh as if the pudge there is where it belongs. the flash does no good job of hiding the flush in your face as you do your best to cover it with your hand.
within frame, satoru grinds his hips forward and then back, revealing a creamy white ring around the base of him. from the new angle, his phone catches that soft moan from your lips. he damn near grunts at the sound of it, hand tightening on your thigh before the camera flips again.
he doesnāt say anything as he pauses, propping up the camera on what could only be the bedside table. it renders a full view of the missionary position, your thighs on either side of his hips while his hands hold down your hips.
with the new freedom, his hips start a brutal pace that mimics a piston broken from the crank case. itās fast and loud, the phone picking up every thrust, moan, and heavy sigh.
it seems to last minutes before he slows, putting his attention back on the camera. he pulls back from your weak embrace, flexing the muscles in his chest and arms as if he wasnāt deep inside you.
the angle causes his body to pivot, and in response, you let out a yelp that was neither encouraging or discouraging. his surprise and concern immediately changes the cheeky expression he held since the beginning of the recording.
his head quickly whips to face you, āwhat was that? are you okay?ā
you nod slowly, face hidden by your hair and the quite large white pillow. āw-weird spotā¦ā
his eyes flicker over to the camera, that smirk making another appearance. āweird?ā
he moves his hips again. you let out another yelp, nails digging into his back.
the grin on his face only describes that of a man who might have found the secret to his very happiness, itās infectious. he grabs the phone, bringing the camera back on his flushed face while his hand pushes his hair back again.
his voice comes out as a whisper, āhateeeee to cut this video short for future me, heh, but i just found her sweet spot and i think iād rather focus on cumming on it. byeeee.ā
an: a little suggestiveness (itās satoru :3), and some baby talk in the final entry.
november 1.
my girl,
as the weather gets colder, i wonder where the year went. i donāt mean to sound sentimental or anything, but it feels as if just yesterday you were forcing grapes down my throat under your parents dinner table. it was our first New Years together as a couple, fresh adults falling for superstitious traditions. i remember how your fingers tasted like sparkling cider and grapes, a combination i couldnāt get off my tongue for weeks.
to think that was almost ten years ago makes me feel old. a whole decade iāve spent knowing and loving youāand i hope i get many more.
always,
yours.
december 6.
my girl,
i have a feeling youāre planning something extravagant for my birthday. i visited shoko today and she was acting strange, like she knew something i didnāt. although i donāt like being out of the loop, i find it endearing how well youāve managed to hide your plans for tomorrow.
i feel like i should mention this thoughāi donāt need anything but you for my birthday. your presence alone is the best gift i could ever receive, that pretty face you make when i piss you off and that nervous smile when i make you blush is a priceless gift.
however, if i told you that youād just blow it off. why do you find birthdays to be so important? iām starting to realize that iāve never asked you that when itās something iāve wondered for a long time.
whatever youāre planning, iām excited for it. you always know how to keep me on my toes.
always,
yours.
january 15.
my girl,
iāve reread every entry iāve written in this notebook and iāve realized something. from the very beginning, all iāve ever done is express how much i love you, yet iāve never explained why. how stupid of me, right?
but thatās also my dilemmaāi love every single part of you. your hair, your smile, your laugh, the way you always choke on soda, the way you caress my hair in the morningāall of it. within your eyes lies my soul, and iāll leave it there along with every part of myself. for you hold the key to my being.
as teens, Suguru mentioned something to me: are you Gojo Satoru because youāre the strongest, or are you the strongest because youāre Gojo Satoru?
my girl, i fear around you i donāt need to be any of those things. because of you, iām Satoru. just Satoru. when iām with you i donāt need to be strong or my family name, all i need is you. all of you.
so thank you for that. how you make me feel will always be my number one reason for loving you.
always,
yours.
february 14.
my girl,
this morning i woke up to find you wearing something absolutely breathtaking. since then, i havenāt been able to get it off my mind. i hope, that by writing about it, i can find some mental space to focus on work. of course, i know it wonāt. however, i wanna remember this feeling.
i wont get too graphic (no matter how badly i want to..) so iāll keep my descriptions light.
the dress was silk, light pink with small white floral print. honestly, it curved your body like a pretty glove. you wore your hair down, natural, and no makeup; just how i like it. and fuck baby, that perfume? just from a whiff i felt my hormones go crazy. if i could see him, i know my hormone monster was going absolutely feral. (haha, we should rewatch big mouth again.)
now i sit at my desk, trying to hide an obvious boner, as i come up with ideas how to return your gesture. every valentines day you do this, you end up outshining me. itās no wonder i gave you my last name, you show off like a true gojo.
fuck, now iām thinking about your last name matching mine.
i knew writing about it wouldnāt help since now iām going to text you about my little situation, but i know future me will thank me.
watch out baby, you have no idea what youāve done.
always,
yours.
july 2.
my girl,
have i ever told you how much i love spending my summers with you? sounds silly when i realize weāve been married for most of themāsemantics.
two nights ago, though, iāve had what Shoko likes to call an āepiphanyā. what if we spent some summers together and another? i never thought the idea of children would ever cross my mind, iāve never wanted to continue the gojo clan like the elders kept drilling into my head as a kid. yet, i know deep in my heart that i want to have something of you. i want to create something with you, show it the beauty of you.
maybe this is stemming from the fact that Shoko has had enough of my rants about you. but iām certain that this feeling wonāt just fizzle if i find someone else to talk to.
baby, just the idea of a tiny you is making me giddy. i hope youāll feel the same way if i bring it up, i know youāll make an excellent mother.
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(an! if you havenāt read the scenario{which is fine btw, in short itās a few letters to reader from Nanami Kento}, be sure to check it out in my master list!)
should i make the ākentoās entiresā for other jjk characters or just continue his?
(pov; you find a notebook on kentoās side of the closet.)
june 14.
my love,
we got married yesterday, and as i write this, youāre laying in bed with wild yet beautiful hair. my first morning as your husband and i can not imagine a life without this; without you.
after the wedding, you whispered something in my ear that i cannot forget. do you remember? i doubt it, you always are an unfiltered drunk. but, nonetheless, a very amusing one.
you sat on the edge of the bed, that silky number still cradled around your curves in ways that made me jealous. i helped you out of your heels, brushing the sand off your feet, and you sat up. i did not think much of it until i felt your hair brush my cheek, your breath hot on my ear, and my world stopped for a second.
āhow did i get so lucky?ā is what you whispered in my ear. six words strung together in a sentence that flipped my axis because how did i get so lucky? how did i manage to wife the most beautiful woman iāve ever laid my eyes on, get to have you in a bed and witness your natural beauty?
i fear iām rambling here; yet i have no regrets.
forever,
yours.
july 25.
my love,
we have had our first fight as newlyweds. i do not like when we fightāi do not like making you upset with me. however, somehow, i still find beauty in the arguments that seem so intense now but will fizzle into something stupid later; they always do.
this time i am at fault, i know that now that i have had time to reflect on it.
i came home late last nightāthird night this week. you awaited me in bed, lamp on, nestled in bed with a look i could not read. even when upset, i find your beauty to be absolutely breathtaking. you looked at me with such sadness, i could hear the skin around my heart crack under your cold gaze.
āagain?ā you had said, voice chillingly cold; opposite of that soft dewy voice i am used to hearing. nonetheless, i hadnāt understood where that ice had formed from. i now realize it was because of me.
i am sorry, my love. i see now that my presence is worth more than i thought. itās humorous, how your presence to me is worth more than life itself, but i did not see how mine is worth moons in your eyes.
i will apologize tonight, if youāll let me back in.
forever,
yours.
august 19.
my love,
the woman you are.
i cannot think for the words of your attention; of your heart and soul. simply, there are none that capture the beauty of you.
forever,
yours.
october 5.
my love,
the way you worship this month like a holy trinity will always amaze me. everywhere i go, i smell your perfume that holds a hint of spice and love. i know it is never purposeful that your scent clings to my suits like water and cloth, and i would never complain. my love for you is limitless, i have fallen for you every day i wake and you are there beside me. i would trade a kingdom for just a kiss to your cheek; wreck empires for a minute alone with your heart.
this morning you awaited my consciousness with a warm embrace of your smile. dare i say, you looked as though a tear fallen from heaven to earth. and when you spoke of my name, your first word of the day, i nearly melted into the egyptian cotton.
you make me worry for my sanity, my loveāi wouldnāt have it any other way, though.